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Chapter Text

Izuku wakes up to a familiar white ceiling and Katsuki glaring down at him with a pair of murder eyes. He gulps, wetting his dry lips and feels that his imminent demise is close at hand despite only escaping death’s grip previously. “Oh hi, Kacchan,” he says warily, pulling himself up into a sitting position on the hospital bed.

His bones creak and everything aches, but he’s alive. Painfully so, but alive nonetheless.

“Hi my fucking ass,” Katsuki snaps from his seat next to the bed, but Izuku can see his left knuckles are white from gripping the bar of Izuku’s bed too tightly.

“My mother?” he asks, looking around and is surprised to see that she isn’t here. He remembers waking up in this same room three times already in the last month with his mother’s concern face hovering above him and felt the sharp edge of guilt cut into his heart every time. He’d apologized for making her worry but he still ends back up here anyway. 

“I wasn’t going to let her cry over your dumbass again,” Katsuki says because he’s kind and Izuku is a terrible son.

“Thank you, Kacchan,” Izuku says, smiling softly. “And I’m sorry.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it if you keep doing the same shit over and over again.”

Izuku’s smile falls off. “I, I’m trying my best here,” he says, looking down at his lap helplessly.

Katsuki runs a hand over his hair. “I’m so fucking tired of this,” he says, frustration clear in his voice. “You told me we’re partners and that we’re in this together, yet why am I always the one being left behind and picking up your broken body, huh? Something got to change because I can’t fucking keep doing this.”

Izuku’s eyes jerk up and his heart is in his throat. If Katsuki says he’ll give up on them, then, then—“Kacchan, don’t—I’ll do better, I promise!” he begs. “I’ll be more careful from now on, so don’t quit on me yet!”

“You always fucking say that but you know what your real problem is?” Katsuki spits out, and his emotion wrung raw because of Izuku. “It isn’t that you don’t fucking think, but you think too much and you get overwhelmed with it so you just charge right in to shut out all the noise in your head at risk of yourself and everybody around you.” 

Izuku swallows, wrapping his bandaged arms around his waist. “What I should I do then, Kacchan?” he asks quietly. “How do I fix this?"

Katsuki eyes are dark and full of intent. “Don’t think, let me do it for you,” he says, as though it’s simple as that and maybe it is. “From now on, I’m the one who is going make the hard decisions for you and you’re going to fucking listen.” 

Izuku turns Katsuki’s statement over and over in his head, considering the words carefully, and that’s perhaps the problem right there. “Okay, Kacchan,” he says cautiously. “I’m handing the reins over to you then.”

Izuku thinks he should be scare, that he had fought for control all his life, to choose his own path and walk it without letting anyone dictate his choices, so the thought of relinquishing any sort of control should be the hardest thing for him to do, but he wonders why it is suddenly so much easier to breathe.

Maybe, it’s because he has been chasing after Katsuki so long since they were children that this just feels like another step in their relationship. He’d always go wherever Katsuki leads and this is just another part of it. 

Chapter Text

“I know I should have said this sooner,” Ochako starts as Izuku shifts in his seat uncomfortably across from her, “but you’d seem so preoccupied the last few weeks that I didn’t want to make your stress worsen.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Ochako-chan,” he says, looking helplessly his hands clutched together tightly on the table.

“I just don’t want you to be hung up on Todoroki-kun forever,” she says with a weary sigh. “Your happiness doesn’t end here just because you guys broke up. I’m sure you’ll find another love again.”

Izuku winces. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he haven’t actually thought about Shouto since that fateful night and that what has been plaguing him is something—someone else entirely.

“I—“ Izuku stops, shaking his head as he tries to find the right word to begin his story but the crowd of bargoers around them suddenly burst into a loud scream that defean all thought from Izuku’s head.

“Crows! Crows! Crows!” they chant in unison as one of the servers turn on the volume of several panels of TV across the bar.

Finding themselves momentarily distracted, Ochako and Izuku’s trail toward the one of the TV that hang several feet above their table as the nightly music show introduce the next performer with an elegant cursive preface that appear on screen: A MURDER OF CROWS.

“Oh, it’s that’s the band that Tsuyu has recently been into!” Ochako says, flapping her hand at him excitedly. “I have listened to some of their songs and they’re actually pretty good. I love their drummer, Mina so much! She’s so cute and kick ass! You’ll like her Izuku-kun.” She glances back at him elatedly as Izuku smiles through a growing unease that he doesn’t know where it’s coming from.  

“—presenting their new song to the world here is A Murder of Crows’ ‘Emerald City’,” the host of the music show says on the TV.

The camera quickly pans over to a stage and Izuku’s eyes nearly drop out of it sockets as he spots a familiar face standing at the center of it, the face that haunted his dream every night and whose voice wreck Izuku’s world with just a word.

That person takes the mic from the stand and looks out into the crowd with an arrogant grin, his eyes are heated and captivating as though he is staring right into Izuku’s soul and seeing all his bare parts. He did, he did, and Izuku had let him.

The music begins to roll in and that person’s lips part and Izuku falls all over again, thinking of that night when that pair of eyes and those lips had undo him completely. Izuku thought he was already done for with that image and memory alone but when that person starts sings about a green eyed lover with freckles as constellations dotted across their cheek and the voice of an angel rolling around in his bed of depravity—Izuku wants to die.

“I seek salvation between your thighs,” the singer croons, “but your wanton moans are the trumpets of angel calling me to my doom. Oh sweetheart, you’re a sin away from falling and I’m right there catch you.”

With one last verse, the singer raises his forefinger to his lips for a chaste kiss as though he’s kissing the lover in his song before the lights of the stage dim and the camera pans away to a deafening scream of the crowd. The song had ended before Izuku knew it and Izuku felt like somewhere along the way he’d forgotten how to breathe.

Ochako whistles appreciatively. “Wow, I did not expect that at all. I though the Crows’ don’t do that kind of songs because something about them not being into ‘mainstream bullshit’,” she roll her eyes as she airquotes it, “whatever that mean but that definitely sounds almost like a love song. And hey, the person he’s referencing kinda remind me of you Izuku, isn’t that funny?” She grins at him as though trying to let him in her joke.  

Izuku drops his face into his hands in a voiceless scream, because it’s no joke at all.

“Izuku?” Ochako asks, concern thick in her voice. “Are you alright?”

“That—that’s me,” Izuku says, mumbling the words into his hands in helpless desperation. “He’s singing about me.”

“What?!” she demands, nearly jumping out of her seat.  “Say that again because I swear you’d just told me you slept with the Crows’ Bakugou Katsuki.”

Izuku slowly raises his head from his hand and he could feel his face burning as he says, “It was only one night and I didn’t know who he was at first but, one thing led to another and I—well yea.” He grimaces as he tries hard to hide the rising panic at the thought of how many people must have heard the song and now knows what Izuku is like in bed.

Ochako squeals, hands clasping over her mouth as her screams threw some looks. She leans over their table and drops a furious whisper in his ears, “Ohmygod, Izuku-kun! You sly dog.”

Chapter Text

“Uh, could you repeat that again because I think I must have misheard you,” Eijirou says, scratching his cheek.

Mina elbows him right the ribs. “Don’t piss him off anymore,” she hisses.

Eijirou roll his eyes, rubbing the sore spot on his chest that Mina had jabbed him. “I just wanted to sure I didn’t misunderstand.”

Eijirou knows the legend, the story of how the Lord of the Underworld stole the Divine Flower, locking him away deep in his kingdom. The land soon became dried and barren afterward, and the plants were dying without the Divine Flower’s renewing power blessing the land once more. So an army of gods had stormed the entrance of the underworld and the one hundred days battle was waged in order bring the Divine Flower back to the god’s realm again.

This Eijirou had heard it so many times before. It’s an aged old story of Death and the Flower and punishment Death had received for coveting what is not his. Forbidden to ever meet the Divine Flower again, the Lord of the Underworld can only watch him from afar now as the two are to never cross path.

It’s not a love story. It’s a cautionary tale of one person’s greed and how the world had suffered for it, but it seems that even after all these centuries, the Lord still hasn’t forgotten the Divine Flower.

“Are you fucking deaf,” Lord Enma snaps, red eyes flashing furiously as he grips the arm of his throne tightly. “Do I need to have your ears clean or should I just rip out your old useless ones and give you better ones instead?

Eijirou winces lowering his head in apology. “I’m sorry, milord. I just want to make sure I can follow your instructions without fail.”

The story definitely never said anything about how incredibly crude and ill-tempered the Lord is. He’d never expected the venerable Lord of the Underworld to be throwing curses and vitriol around like his mouth hasn’t been clean in millenniums.

Enma shakes his head in annoyance like Eijirou is the one being difficult on purpose. “Fine, one more time but listen the fuck up because if I have to repeat myself again I will fucking rip your ears out myself, are we clear?”

Eijirou nods his head quickly as Mina giggles next to him because she always been mean and heartless since they were kids.

“Now, I want you to go to the far east where the sun is never set and the grass is always green. Head toward the Garden of Life and hand this box to Deku. Give it to nobody else but him.” He gestures for a small girl with two pair of horns on her head to step forward and in her hands is a large jewelry box. “Do not fuck this part up because if you mess up, Mina’s soul,” he says, opening his palm up where a pink ball of fairy light shines before he crushes it his hand and it disappears with a pop, “will be stuck in my land forever.”

Eijirou grimaces at the thinly veiled menace in his words but preserves on anyway. “Anything else, sir?” he asks just in case because this is way too easy. He doesn’t believe there isn't some hidden meaning to it.

The Lord gives a moment of consideration before smiling ruthlessly, all teeth and sharp edges. “And don’t let him cry,” he orders.

Eijirou furrow his brows in puzzlement. “What,” he says, because really what the fuck.

“He’s going to cry because he’s a stupid bleeding heart but.” Red eyes glare at Eijirou with all the significant of a life or death situation. “You. Will. Not. Let. Him. If a fucking tear drop from him, I will know and you will pay for it.”

It’s not so much as order as it is a threat. Eijirou swallows. “Y-Yes, sir,” he says, his head thick with confusion and bewilderedness at this entire situation. These are definitely the words of a smitten obsessed god as the story suggest but the way it was phrased with care and vehemence, it spoke of a relationship between the two that goes deeper than a kidnapper and his stolen charge.

Eijirou immediately thinks back to the patch of flowers outside the Bone Castle, the array of colors that poke out of bleak desolate landscape of the underworld like an oasis in the desert. No life should have been grown in the harsh brutal land of the dead yet these flowers didn’t just grow here but they flourished. Only at the careful and tender hands of the Hana no Kami, the Divine Flower, could this happened, then that meant it was the Divine Flower’s last gift to the Lord here and the Lord has kept these flowers alive for the sake of his beloved.  

Perhaps there’s something else to this story that wasn’t told.

Chapter Text

“I can’t let you go any further, sir,” the guard says. His arm held out in front of Izuku, acting as a barrier to prevent Izuku from getting past the reception area.

“Just for a moment, please let me speak to Bakugou Katsuki,” Izuku begs. “I have something very important to talk to him. This is a life and death situation.”

The guard looks at him intently and then look passes Izuku’s head to a huge crowd of screaming fans right outside the building waiting for a chance to get a glimpse of Crows through the glass wall that lines the entrance.

“If I let in every one of his fans that just want to see him go, I’ll be out of a job,” the guard explains carefully like Izuku is dumb and desperately needs help. “I’m sorry but without an appointment directly signed off by their manager I can’t let anyone meet Crows.”

“I don’t want to meet Crows! I just want to talk to Bakugou!” Izuku insists, trying to sidestep the guard but the guard quickly moves in front of him and blocks him off once more.

The guard raises a brow. “Then I will give you the exact same answer. I can’t let you meet him unless you have an appointment signed off by his manager.”

“I—alright fine. You clearly don’t get how dire this is.” Izuku sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s going to have to do this. He doesn’t want to but he got little choice left. “It’s not your fault ofcourse but you know that new song of Crows that’s making the airway?“ he asks and when the guard stares at him for a moment before giving a wary nod Izuku quickly looks around, making sure there’s nobody else nearby before leaning inclose to the guard. His voice drops to a whisper as he says, “That song is about me. I’m Bakugou’s ‘Emerald City’.”

Izuku steps back, appearing hopeful as his face grows increasingly hot at the confession he had made.

“Ah, I see,” the guard says, nodding sagely like he’s finally getting it, “and I’m the pope, right.”

Izuku’s hope immediately dies with the guard’s scathing words. “I’m not lying though!”

“What, you thought you’re the first one to make that kind of claim here? Half of the population of this goddamn country flooded this building as soon as the words had gotten out about Bakugou’s mystery lover,”the guard replies with an eye roll. “You’re not anything that I haven’t seen before. Just another delusional fan who think they have a chance with the Crows’ Bakugou.” He makes a derisive snort at Izuku and Izuku wants to set himself on fire because this is already embarrassing enough.

“I’m not a fan! I just want him—“ Izuku’s next words are swallowed up by the roar of the crowd outside getting so loud that it nearly shake the entire building.

Countless screaming fans chanting “Crows,” can be heard through the building and Izuku turns around to see they’re screaming for a group coming off one of those private VIP elevator’s and right then is when Izuku spots him.  

Even in a group made up of vibrant and colorful personality in the likes of Ashido Mina and Kaminari Denki, he is still the only thing Izuku sees. With unruly pale blond hair peeking through the hood of his jacket and wearing the most bored expression on his face, Bakugou silently hangs on the outskirt of the group as his friends jostle each other and laugh at the other’s joke. He appears unengaging and cold but Izuku recalls the sharp edge of his smile, the kind that you could easily hurt yourself on and then later thank him for it, as he relentlessly teased Izuku and he keenly knows the feel of Bakugou’s touch against his own and how it can even coax the harshest stone to bleed for him; Bakugou lit a fire in Izuku that night and Izuku hadn’t been able to put it out since then.

Another thunderous scream escapes the crowd as the group gets closer to the entrance and Izuku uses that momentarily distraction to ram passes the guard. He sprints toward the group with breakneck speed that would have made his former PE teacher proud.

“Hey, hey, you get back here right now—!” the guard shouts at his back but it’s already too late because Izuku is pushing his way through with his hand clench hard at his side.  

Giving the group no time to react at all, Izuku draws back his fist back and launches himself at Bakugou, throwing a mean punch to the side of his head. Bakugou stumbles back from the impact and his friend manage to catch before he collided with the ground.

“Oh my god.”

“Bakugou, are you okay?!”

“What the hell—”

Their outcry barely registers in Izuku’s ears as the adrenaline that had propelled him forward takes it time to settle.

Someone roughly seizes him by the shoulder and is pulling him back, but Izuku plants his feet on the ground. He won’t be move. Not until he finishes what he came here for. “Stop singing about my ass in front of the entire country,” Izuku hisses, glaring at Bakugou who is now sporting a distinct discoloration high on his cheekbone as his own friends hold him back and then because Izuku momma raised him right he belated tacks on a, “Please.”

He doesn’t also say, please stop making me relive that night over and over again because I want to die every time I hear about how my wanton ways seduced you into sinning played through the airway.

“You’re going to come with me now,” Izuku hears and he turns his head around to see the glowering face of the same guard at his back, tugging at his arm.

“It’s you,” Bakugou says, eyes widen in recognition before a vicious grin makes it way to his face and he brushes off his friends’ insistence help. He steps forward and reaches out to take hold of Izuku’s arm. “Let him go,” he tells to the guard standing behind Izuku.

Hesitation clear in his voice as the guard asks, “Sir?”

“Katsuki?” Ashido asks, looking furtively between Izuku’s now flushed face and Bakugou’s smirk. “You know this person?”

Bakugou’s bandmates simultaneous confusion marked an even stranger turn of events as the guard abruptly let Izuku go upon his order. Izuku barely has any time to react as Bakugou hauls Izuku right into his arms then, bracing him against Bakugou’s shoulder and hands wrap around Izuku’s waist to a hysteric crowd screaming off in the distant.

“Hey, Cinderella,” Bakugou says, low and sweet in Izuku’s ear just like that night when he stripped Izuku down to a helpless writhing mess with nothing but a crooked tongue dipped in saccharine lies. “I have been looking all over for you.”

Chapter Text

“Kacchan,” Izuku says, lips wobbling precariously like it’s going to spill over at any moment. “I’m so, so sorry. Even though you’d warned and told me–”

“Fucking hell,” Katsuki says with growing trepidation as he stares down at Izuku’s guilty expression and his tiny figure cradled between Katsuki’s hands.

Izuku right now is a fragile and small thing and a fucking bullet to his heart. Not even close to a foot tall, he sits in the palm of Katsuki’s hands like some dumb miniature doll too delicate and breakable that Katsuki has to physically restrained himself to do something about it, even though every fiber of his body wants to tuck Izuku away and hide him between his rib cage so nothing can touch or hurt him.

Fuck. This is what Izuku does to him, making him this pathetically weak and sentimental over such ridiculous thing and Katsuki hates him for it.

“It wasn’t us!” Denki has the fucking nerve to protest even though he’s the one who brought Izuku to him, tucked between his arm like a child and not a de-sized fellow classmate and friend. “There was a villain, Tiny Tim you know who can enlarge and miniaturize things with his quirk, and Midoriya,” he scratches his cheek sheepishly, “well, there was a blast and he jumped in front of it to protect a civilian. It was a very heroic thing to do of course but uh, the doctor that had looked him over said his current form is temporary and he’ll be back to his old self in a few days! So you don’t need to worry!”

“A few days, huh,” Katsuki says thinly, narrowing his eyes. He turns his glare back to Izuku once more and Izuku flinches under it ruthlessness. “And I’m not fucking worry about this dumbass since he’d never listen anyway or use his head that he might as well empty it because how many times has something like this happened?”

Izuku abruptly stands up, trying to walk on the unsteady flesh underneath him as he steps over to Katsuki’s thumb, wrapping his arms around it like he’s hugging Katsuki. “Please forgive me, Kacchan,” he begs, large eyes staring up at Katsuki beseechingly. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Midoriya Izuku at his normal height can be a deadly enemy to come across and Katsuki has exerted his dominance over him plenty of times already but this tiny thing that Katsuki can easily squish between pinched fingers is completely defenseless and helpless in his palm is the most deadly thing that Katsuki has ever held. And it’s all fucking ridiculous and absurd.

The alarm bell that has been blaring in his head since Denki had placed Izuku in his hand is giving him all the indications of Defcon 5 and that he's not prepared to handle Izuku like this but his heart, a malleable thing molded under the relentless smiles and adoration that Izuku had thrown his way over the years, is quaking. He brings his hands closer to himself and letting his thumb brush Izuku’s cheek, nearly pushing Izuku over from the force of it but his touch is gentle and careful like Izuku is something rare and precious and Katsuki knows he’s being undone.

Midoriya Izuku, tiny and frail like this, will be the death of him and Katsuki has no way stop it.

Chapter Text

“You don’t have to do this,” Uraraka insists beside him, strolling through the hallway of the Music Bank Studio with Izuku. “I can just apologize and tell them you’re sick and can’t perform tonight.”

Izuku shakes his head and holds his tongue even as they walk past a poster promoting this week program on Music Bank, featuring an array of artists like newly debuted soloist like Izuku and of course the long-standing ultra-popular megaband Hellraizer. This week program was highly publicized and scrutinized in the past days by the public for featuring the scandalized story of the former lead singer of Hellraizer will compete against the current Hellraizer in a head to head battle for the top of the music chart; it’s ‘Roar’ vs ‘Infernal’ and Izuku is equally anticipating and dreading their inevitable collision.

Uraraka narrow her eyes as she stares at the copy of the same promotional poster that he was looking at, pasted to the wall again several feet ahead of the previous one. “I just can’t believe Hellraizer would brazenly release their new single in the same promotion week as us. Their agency was set to release it next month after we were done with our ‘Roar’ run but of course, they want to challenge you and ‘Roar’,” Uraraka says, furious on his behalf. “God, what bag of dicks.”

“S’okay,” Izuku replies. Hellraizer’s releasing their new single ahead of schedule hadn’t surprised him as much as it did for his team, not when he knows that Katsuki has a hand in it somehow. Katsuki never met a challenge he doesn’t rise to and the thought that he could kick Izuku out of his number one spot on the chart would tide over Katsuki’s competitive spirit especially when he got personal vendetta in this. “Don-don’t worry Uraraka-san.”

“I’m your manager, Deku-kun so your career and wellbeing is my life,” Uraraka says, determination lines her face. “If something upset you, of course, I’m going to do my best to put a stop to it.” 

“It’s f-fine,” Izuku says, clenching his fist in his hand and his heart palpitates the closer they get to their waiting room and what awaits Izuku afterward when all the performers will be on stage.  “And b-besides I want to see K… want to see K-Kacchan and them.”

Ochako reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Hey, calm down now Izuku you’re stuttering again,” she says, concern thick in her voice as she frowns. “Remember what your therapist says, breathe and don’t try to shove the words out if you can’t say it. Just leave the talking to me, okay?”

Izuku reluctantly nods. He’d thought he has gotten better with his stuttering after working with his speech therapist for two months now in the tail end of his solo debut but his disfluency has been getting worst since he’d found out about Hellraizer’s obvious declaration of war on him and ‘Roar’. He knows the anxiety is getting to him and is affecting his speech pattern again but Izuku can’t help the furl of thrill that is in his stomach as he thinks of the chance of seeing Katsuki in person again after all these months of only catching glimpses of Katsuki in pictures and video clips in his cell phone’s screen or laptop.

Izuku misses him like a phantom limb, even knowing that Katsuki would sooner jump off a cliff than be stuck in the same space with him again, but he’s going to be fine. Absolutely fine. They won’t be able to see each other till three more hours when they are supposed to have their first taping and that’s amble enough time for Izuku to practice what to say and mentally and emotionally prepare himself for their long-awaited reunion.

It will be absolutely o—

Izuku loses his train of thought immediately when they are at a T-intersection and around a corner, Bakugou Katsuki of Hellraizer suddenly appears before them, dressed in a mesh black top and low hanging skinny jeans that cling to his waist in all the wrong ways. His ears are decorated with silver metal and black nails adorned his hands; he is the personification of sin and he looks even more beautiful than all the still fan images that Izuku combed over every day and Izuku is once again struck breathless.

His red eyes widen as he spots Izuku and Uraraka right in front of him, but it quickly tides over by a fierce and haunted look.

“K… K-Kacchan, hi, you’re heh-heh-here,” Izuku starts, all form of preparation and speech goes out of the window. “I heard your new s-song! It sounds really a… a…” Izuku makes a face as the word amazing is stuck in his mouth but he quickly changes it out for another, “g-good. I’m so g-glad to be p… p…” he swallows, “p-playing with you and the rest of the H-h-hellraizer tonight. I wish y-you and the band luh-luh-luck and—” He bites down on his tongue, stumbling over the next word. He winces as the sharp tang of blood hits his taste bud and curses his disfluency for ruin this reunion that he has been waiting for so long.

“Deku-kun!” Uraraka says, frantic as Izuku covers his bleeding mouth. She pulls out a handkerchief out of her bag and gives it to Izuku, who carefully daps at his tongue with it.

Katsuki levels Izuku an unimpressed look. “Try not to open your mouth too much unless you’re singing or your fans will find out that their darling Deku can’t even say a full sentence without tripping over his own tongue,” he says blandly.

Izuku flinches, pulling the blood stained hankerchief back down to his side.

“Hey,” Uraraka yells, standing between them as though she can act as a barrier against Katsuki’s weaponize words and glaring at Katsuki furiously. “What you say?!”

Katsuki tsks in annoyance and rolls his eyes. “You’re going to let your guard dog fight your battle here, Deku? Always hiding behind others and letting them speak for you. You may have a fucking stutter but you’re not mute so try not to be completely useless out there yea?”

Izuku opens his mouth but no words come out and it’s one of those times that he wishes he would trade his singing for the ability to actually talk like a normal person. The stiff silence that hangs before them is nearly suffocating but it soon gets broken by a loud noise:

“Katsuki, what is the holdup?!” Izuku hears from behind them and he turns around to see Kirishima Eijirou running up to them. “You said you were going to the restroom and it has been fifteen minutes already. Geez, you’re taking a dump or something?” Eijirou says, scowling.

“No, you fuck,” Katsuki says, making a face of total disgust.

Eijirou laughs la he finally closes in on them but as soon as he realizes who else is next to Katsuki, his expression clouds over and shuts down.

Eijirou looks over at Izuku with cold indifference and Izuku tries not to feel hurt by it. Eijirou and the rest of the band may have been his friends and bandmates once and had adopted Izuku as one of their own but their loyalty to Katsuki trumps any amiable feeling they still have left for Izuku when he’d chose his solo career over the future of their band.

It’s fine if Katsuki and his friends hate him now because as long as Izuku is allowed to stand on the same stage as them Izuku will even be their worst enemy and number one rival. Izuku never wants to go back to the time when Katsuki didn’t even know who he is and Izuku was just some starstruck fan who is enamored with his voice and the band.

“Let’s go,” Katsuki orders and walks pass Izuku and Uraraka without another word, joining Eijirou as they head back to their waiting room probably.

“What was that all about?” Eijirou demands as Izuku watches their departing back.

“Nothing,” Katsuki answers and then almost to himself, “It’s nothing important.”

Izuku doesn’t regret walking out on the band and turning away from Katsuki at all. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s debut and entry to the hedonistic and pleasure-seeking world of Yoshiwara’s red light district is marked by a celebratory promotion from a trainee furisode shinzou, trailing after his older brother oiran’s heels, to a low-ranking hashi-joro who can finally takes his own customer for the first time and the auction of his virginity to the highest bidder; his red night, they’d called it.

The months before his red night, his older brother had given him books and drawings, delving into the carnal pleasure of the flesh for him to study from. The words were incinerating and the drawings were lewd like they were going to come off the pages and commit sins right in front of him. Izuku was so red in the face afterward that he couldn’t even look at his older brother in the face for several days, but his older brother was relentless in his teaching. He’d instructed Izuku how to prep himself before seeing a customer, to play coy and to charm with the right words and the curved of his lips, and to avoid explicitly saying no and redirect their attention elsewhere because in their line of work they can only afford so many no’s.

Izuku had avidly listened and learned everything he needed to know for his red night, but he was haunted by the images and expectations of the man who would buy him for the night. He thought of the faceless man who would touch Izuku’s bare skin, stripping Izuku to nothing but a wanton mess, and to marked Izuku’s body up as he pleased as though it was his own. Izuku’s pleasure and desire would not be his but the customer who paid good money for it.

This, he knows. This, he understands well enough. It was a lesson he was taught early on in his years a young kamuro at his older brother oiran’s side. The higher rank a courtesan is the more choice they’ll have, they can be more selective in whom they serve and sleep with, but for the rest of the courtesans that slaved in teahouses, sat behind the lattice front room of their brothel house, and are purchased at the discretion of the customers, there is very little to no choice at all.

On this night that Izuku is supposed to give away his first bleed, he is ushered into a private room where he had seen previous courtesans go to entertain their customer for the duration of their visit. He waits and waits there for the stranger who had bought Izuku’s red night.

Across the room, there is a small vanity and a rounded mirror that greets him. Izuku looks at himself for a moment and sees a pale column of skin, a dolled up face, and red painted lips; it’s both obscene and ethereal. This strange and sensuous creature that stares right back at him, surely can’t be him right? It wears his face but doesn’t resemble him at all, Izuku can’t help but think yet, all the same, it’s him.

Earlier on in that day with the help of his older brother and his two kamuros, Izuku had thick white powder on his face and rouge painted across his lips. His green curls were pinned up in an elaborate bun and decorated with a series of flower hair ornaments. He was dressed in the finest kimono he had ever worn—a string of red camellias pressed against black silk, making something otherworldly of Izuku.

Izuku is almost unrecognizable.

He jerks his gaze away and lets it drift across the room as his hand twists anxiously in front of him. The candles burn ever so slowly around him and Izuku watches them avidly, hoping that when the last of it goes out Izuku will be the only one left alone in the dark, but his hope is cut short when he hears approaching footsteps, coming ever closer to him.

Izuku holds his breath as a shadow casts against the screen paper door in front of him and when the door is slid open he immediately drops down to the floor. The tail end of his kimono and his long sleeves pool around him as though he was drowning in a sea of fabric as he folds his arms under his head.

“My lord,” Izuku begs urgently, face pressed against his folded arms, “please forgives this poor servant but I can’t serve you to tonight. I will pay back your all money plus interest if you let me go. Please remove me from your consideration, I am not worthy of your time or money.”

Silence. Izuku’s heart beats and beats against his ribcage as the second stretch into minutes and the cloud of anxiety get thicker and thicker.

Finally after several tense minutes: “I’ve paid a fortune to buy your red night before anyone and you won’t even look at me in the eyes to reject me? What fucking nerve,” the man says dryly. “Are all courtesans this stupidly brazen or is it you just you, Deku?”

Startled by the familiar voice, Izuku jerks his head up and meets the annoyed red eyes of his former childhood friend staring down at his form. “K-Kacchan,” Izuku says, shocked by Katsuki’s sudden appearance here.  “What are you doing here?!” As the only son of the most powerful daimyo that rules this area, second only to the Shogun himself, Bakugou Katsuki should not be found in the pleasure quarter let alone in the private room with a lowly courtesan like him.

“To make sure you didn’t sell yourself some crusty old man,” Katsuki says with a glower on his handsome face. “Are you a fucking idiot?! Why didn’t you tell me you were going to debut? I could have saved you from ridiculous farce.”

“I—“ Izuku shakes his head, heart heavy and weighed down by guilt, “I didn’t want to bother you and you shouldn’t get involved with me. Your reputation will be damaged.”

Katsuki scoffs as he glares at Izuku. “The fuck do I care about what others think of me? I bought you, the most useless courtesan in the entire pleasure quarter, and you’re mine now. So are you going to tell me no?”

For a courtesan, no’s are meaningless and yes are empty words, but in front of him is the only boy who makes him want to say yes and mean it with all his heart. The answer to Katsuki’s question is written all over his face, full of love and open affection and undeniable since Katsuki had found him again after all these years.

“Only if you kiss me first,” Izuku breathes.

Chapter Text

“Captain, why the fuck are they saying you’re pimping out my partner to fucking vice?!” Katsuki demands, storming his way into the Captain’s office without a single notice.

“Language, Bakugou,” Aizawa scolds and gestures toward the chair in front of his desk. “And sit down. I hate to have to look up to yell at you.”

Katsuki grits his teeth but obediently complies anyway. He pulls the chair out and sits himself down like a stone dropped in water.

“Captain,” Katsuki starts slowly and carefully, left eye twitching, “why are flinthead and his partner telling me you’re giving Deku to vice?!”

“Not that it is any of your business,” Aizawa says, looking pointedly at Katsuki, “but Midoriya had volunteered to assist vice and the sex crime unit in an important sting operation that is six months in the making. He’s going to go undercover as a sex slave of a wealthy collector who is planning to auction him off to the biggest sex trafficking ring in Tokyo.”

Katsuki stops breathing. “What the fuck,” he hisses.

Aizawa sighs like Katsuki’s exists to pain him. “Need I remind you that Midoriya was a vice cop before I poached him for our major crime unit?” he says dryly. “He’d walked the streets among prostitutes, drug dealers, and addicts before you even got your detective badge. He’s a seasoned UC pro and vice wouldn’t ask to borrow him if they didn’t think Midoriya can handle it since the entire op and a lot of innocent lives are hinged on his shoulders. Midoriya is good at what he does so have faith in your partner at least.”

“It’s the rest of the situation I don’t trust.” Katsuki clicks his tongue in frustration and balls his hand into a fist underneath the table. “You’re sending him alone with no back up into Club Nightingale that has its hand in every corner of politic and governmental seat in this country and I’m supposed to sit around and just wait for him to come back unscathed?!”

Aizawa lifts a brow. “Yes,” he answers simply. 

Katsuki abruptly gets up and slams both hands against the desk. “I want in on this op, sir,” he demands. “Deku may be good but he’s also recklessly stupid and I may not be a train UC but I know Deku the best out of everyone and I’ll make sure to see this op through to its completion if you let me in.”

“Your concern and offer are duly noted, Bakugou,” Aizawa says, leaning back against his chair. His expression is carefully neutral as he raises another brow at Katsuki. “But what can you even do for this op that vice or the sex crime unit haven’t already done?”

“I’ll go in and buy him from you,” Katsuki insists as a plan starts to form in his head. He’s already running through different scenarios, entry points, and exits that can guarantee his and Izuku’s success in this op. “What better way to have two people on the ground in this trafficking ring than to have Deku deal with the low-level scums that move the bodies around while I’ll get my foot into the circle of key individuals that are buying and selling these men and women like they’re things.”

Aizawa hums thoughtfully for a moment. “So what you’re suggesting is that when we sell Midoriya to the ring, you’re going to buy him from them which will give you a direct ticket into their exclusive club where you will get chummy with their VIP client and get the name of the big players in this ring,” he says humorlessly. “Yes, I’m sure that will go well with Midoriya to not only pretend to be someone’s sex slave but also his partner.”

Katsuki opens his mouth to counter that but Aizawa cuts off his prepared speech with a glare. “And you’re doing this solely out of the kindness of your bleeding heart, right? And not because you have unmentionable feelings for your partner that break departmental code about interpersonal romance,” he continues, leveling Katsuki a loaded look full of meanings.

“Yes, sir.” Katsuki swallows. “Bleeding heart right here.”

Chapter Text

Midoriya, with his bento in hand, walks up to Bakugou’s desk and without a single exchange pass between them, he slides down to the floor next to Bakugou with a casual ease that sends a shiver down Kaito’s back. He lifts open the cover of his bento and starts to eat at Bakugou’s feet nonchalantly while Bakugou continues to quietly devour his own packed lunch as his fellow classmates chatter aimlessly around him, utterly unsurprised and unbothered by Midoriya’s sudden intrusion into their circle.

It is so bizarre to Kaito that his jaw had dropped open as soon as he saw Midoriya getting on his knees so publicly and blatantly in front of the class for Bakugou like he has no shame at all, because from the start Midoriya was supposed to be an unassuming null—normal, boring, and predictable. But, Kaito narrowing his eyes in thought, recalls his initial and brief interaction with Midoriya when they had bumped into each other in passing two hours ago, Midoriya had apologized profusely for that even though it was Kaito’s fault.

Kaito had quickly brushed it off as nothing but looking back at it now he realizes with a belated horror that throughout the entire exchange between them not once had Midoriya’s eyes stray from Kaito. He had held Kaito’s gaze the entire time in their full twenty-second exchange and didn’t even lower his head at all. There was not even a drop of submission in his manners. Not toward Kaito.

But now as he stares at the scene before him, Bakugou’s hand slyly drifting down under the table to ruffle Midoriya’s hair almost fondly and Midoriya looks so happy and even preens under that gentle ministration that there is no doubt that Midoriya is a sub to the bone and that Bakugou is the only dom he will submit to.

"If Midoriya is Bakugou's sub then why doesn't he have a collar on him," Kaito asks, gesturing to his neck pointedly.

Ito shrugs. "That's because it's on his ring finger," she reveals.

Kaito's eyes widen and he opens his mouth, closes it, and stops for a moment. Then with much consideration, he says, "Traditionalist, I see."

Ito rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "No, possessive," she says instead, echoing the earlier thought that he couldn't say aloud.

Chapter Text

“Dance with me,” Katsuki demands gruffly. His hand held out toward Izuku like the alluring pull of a siren and Izuku is stupid enough that he might just answer the call.

Izuku’s eyes widen. He can’t remember a time when Katsuki has ever willingly partake in dancing at these soirees and dinner parties, even when Mitsuki-sama had tried forced Katsuki’s hand so he can dance with all the available omega and beta debutantes. Katsuki had planted his feet on the ground and adamantly balked at it—he wasn’t the type to succumb to the fancy whims and the polished veneer of the high society.

“Kacchan?” Izuku says warily before he can catch himself in time. It’s Bakugou-sama now; Izuku had lost that privilege to call him anything but that since he’d chosen to turn away from Katsuki. “I, I, can’t.” He stares down at Katsuki’s offered hand with a growing sense of trepidation and then his eyes dart back to Katsuki’s determined face, jaw set and ready for war.

Katsuki’s lips thin out. “You can’t or you won’t,” he says sharply.

Izuku’s breath hitches and the side of his neck hurts. “That’s not fair, Kacchan.” He rubs his arm furiously like he can scrub himself clean of the ugly feelings that overtake him whenever he’s around Katsuki, but a touch on his shoulder shakes him free of the guilt.

He looks to the side and meets the warm gaze of Shouto. “It’s okay, Izuku,” he says graciously beside him, kinder than he has any right to be. “Go ahead dance with him. I’ll wait for you here.”

“But,” Izuku starts, stomach weighs like lead at the thought of being close to Katsuki again. In fear or anticipation, he doesn’t want to know or think about it too much because the answer is not something he’s ready for, “what about--" He halts, unable to finish it as Katsuki’s bonding bite throbs sharply under his choker.

Shouto smiles at him, his arms reaching behind Izuku’s back to wrap around his shoulders. “I trust you,” he replies as he squeezes Izuku’s shoulder encouragingly and that’s perhaps the worst thing he could say to Izuku.

Shouto turns his attention back to Katsuki, eyes narrowed. “Bakugou, do kindly remember to return my fiance when you’re done,” he says, and it’s not a request. It’s a threat and warning all at once.

Izuku can’t help the shiver that slips pass his guard. Shouto has always been kind and gentle with him even when Izuku’s world had spiraled out and he was just a former page boy from the Bakugou Clan that didn’t deserve the attention and affection of the emperor’s youngest son. Izuku had first known him as Katsuki’s rival, his master’s enemy, but somewhere along the way, Shouto had carved himself a place in Izuku’s heart that had always been solely ruled by Katsuki.

Katsuki bares his teeth at Shouto, a vicious and crude grin smeared across his handsome face. “I’ll take it into consideration,” he snaps, and grabs hold of Izuku’s arm. He forcibly yanks Izuku forward, away from Shouto with no prompting, and Shouto lets him go reluctantly.

Izuku is ashamed to admit of how he easily he fell into Katsuki’s arms like his universe is finally realigning itself once more. In the eyes of the law and the high society, Izuku may belong to Shouto and their marriage is set in stone now but his body had long surrendered itself to Katsuki way before he knew what destined mate even mean, way before Katsuki had bitten him, and way before Shouto entered his life.

Izuku’s heart is a battlefield, two armies waging a war of attrition over a prized territory, and there is no winner.

Chapter Text

“Before you go in, just a warning but don’t freak out,” Uraraka advises, staring up at him with keen eyes but that doesn’t stop him from noticing the way her hands are trembling at her side.  

His eyes quickly dart across the VIP waiting room of Musutafu General Hospital where the entire student body of the former class A of U.A. is all congregated in here like packed sardines as though it’s a goddamn class reunion and Katsuki is the last to arrive. Huddling together, with their heads low as they quietly whisper to each other, nobody will meet his eyes but from their strain of their shoulders and the spooked expression on their face, he knows this is some serious shit.

Upon getting flooded with their group chat notification, he half expected one of them had gotten gravely injured or, fuck, drop dead because how many close calls all of them have in this line of work anyway, but all heads are accounted for and this isn’t grief strung across their tense shoulders but shocked and… hope?

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki snaps reflexively, attention turning back to Uraraka once more. “I’ve been on this job as long as you have, so nothing can fucking phased me anymore.”

“I know,” Uraraka roll her eyes, “but this isn’t something I think anyone is prepared for,” she says tightly.

“Either tell me what the hell got you fuck all riled up or move it so I can see it for myself,” Katsuki says dryly, already tired of this theatrical. It’s his fucking day off, one he had purposely avoid taking for the last ten years even though everyone from his friends, parents, and even his boss had begged him to take a leave of absence because today is the day he’d disappeared from Katsuki’s life; today is Midoriya Izuku’s death anniversary and Katsuki is not ready to deal with the world and its bullshit on this important day.

Uraraka looks at him intently for a second longer before she bites down on her lip and finally steps aside for him to move forward into the private patient’s room. Sucking in a deep breath, Katsuki turns the handle of the door and pushes open with no prompting.

The moment Katsuki steps inside and lets the door close behind him, his eyes quickly zeroes in on the boy sitting on the hospital bed, idly twiddling his thumbs in distraction.

The boy suddenly stops at the sound of Katsuki’s intrusion and looks up, his eyes immediately lighting up in recognition. “Kacchan!” Midoriya Izuku shouts, looking whole and intact like he hasn’t aged at all since that fateful day.

The last time Izuku was in front of him, Katsuki had to watch him disintegrate into the thin air by a villain’s quirk and thought he had lost him forever. He’d spent the decade after that hoping and yearning for a boy whose entire existence was erased from the world and he didn’t even have fucking a body to properly mourn over. It took Katsuki eight fucking years and intensive grief counseling before he was ready to admit that Izuku wasn’t ever coming back again.

And just when he thought he finally exorcised Izuku’s ghost out of his system of course fate decides to drop the boy who haunted him for over a decade back into his lap again. Fate has always been a vindicated bitch and Katsuki is her perpetual whipping dog.

Izuku hops off the hospital bed and hurries over to Katsuki, colliding with him in a forceful hug. Katsuki freezes in his spot as Izuku tilts his head up to get a look up at him. Fuck, Izuku looks so fucking young and wide eyes like this that it even hurt to look at him. He’s so small and fragile in Katsuki’s arms now it’s jarring when they used to stand equal with each other. The Izuku before him right now is exactly the same person that had left Katsuki and the rest of the world behind on this day ten years ago, but it has been ten years and Katsuki and everyone had moved on and grown up but Izuku is the one unchanging and stuck in the past.

“Oh gosh, it’s really is you, Kacchan!” Izuku cries out, words tumbling out of his mouth in an excited rush. “I know it’s only been a couple of hours since I last saw you-you, but that Ochako-chan said it has been ten years and I didn’t believe it at first but everyone looks so different yet so familiar that it‘s is so weird which I guess made a lot of sense now and-and—”

Ten years of dealing with Izuku’s absent, seven years of therapy, and a year of learning to say death in conjunction with Izuku’s name didn’t fucking break him, but this? Is how Midoriya Izuku ends Bakugou Katsuki.

“--hi,” Izuku finishes shyly, cheeks flushed and as beautiful as Katsuki remembers and it’s suddenly all too fucking much for him to take.

Katsuki roughly shoves Izuku away, catching the startle and hurt look on his face before he runs right back out, chasing the memories of the boy he had love and still fucking love after all these years.

“I-I’ll just heads off to bed then,” Izuku blurts, unable to take the strange stifling silent that has settles between them. 

He can’t help thinking if this is all too much for Katsuki if having Izuku here in his home after more than years thinking Izuku was dead and gone for good but here is Izuku coming back to disrupt his perfectly good life like Katsuki owe him anything at all. Izuku has never felt more out place and out of sync with Katsuki now; it’s like they were back to junior high again and Katsuki couldn’t stand to even share the same space with him anymore. He swallows around the bitter truth that despite how for Izuku it may have been only hours since he had last seen Katsuki but for Katsuki and the rest of his friends; it had been over ten years and ten years is a lot to ask for someone to wait for him. “Good night, Kacchan.”  

He leaves it at that and turns around, blinking back the wetness brewing behind his eyes. He takes a hasty and clumsy step forward toward the guest room, but he barely gets another step in before Katsuki grabs hold of his arm and yanks him back.

Katsuki hauls Izuku into his arms in a fierce embrace, pressing Izuku’s back against his front as Izuku stands there frozen in his spot. Stunned and dazed, Izuku becomes uncomfortably aware of the hard plane of Katsuki’s chest behind him and the difference in their height and size now as large callous hands wrapped around him, caging him in a forcible deadlocked like Izuku even want to break free from it. 

When did Katsuki’s hands get so big and his shoulders so wide like it could carry the weight of the world and Izuku’s ghost? 

“Deku,” Katsuki says quietly and fervently into Izuku’s ear. “You’re here. Fuck, you’re really back.” 

Izuku shivers against those binding words. It’s strange to hear his name spoken like that, like a curse and benediction all at once coming from Katsuki’s mouth and he wonders how many times Katsuki said his name this past decade as though that word alone could bring Izuku back into his arms again. 

Chapter Text

“Isn’t it time for you to reconsider your career, Midoriya?” asks Kando, brows furrowing curiously. “Your mother was an exemplary officer of the law before her… unfortunate murder and we could always use someone of your particular skill set down at TMPD. You always wanted to help people just like your mother, so don’t you think you could well with us than babysitting these monsters at the Public Safety Bureau?” He frowns as his eyes dart pass Izuku’s shoulder to where Katsuki and Shouto should be apprehending and tagging their latest criminal to the bureau. “The government may be willing to turn a blind eye to what the Enforcers truly are but the leash around them can only hold them for so long and I don’t want to see you fall to their level and become a latent criminal yourself.”

“Thanks for the concern, Kando-san,” Izuku smiles, and he knows it’s a little too sharp and a whole lot of bite to it by the way Kando flinches back as though struck, “but don’t you know I go to bed with those same monsters every night?” he says, his smile widening further.

“Midoriya,” Kando shouts, his face twists in obvious disgust, “watch your tongue.”

“Oh, I only meant I have nightmares, you know,” he flaps his hand dramatically, “being that I’m still traumatized from watching my father murdered my mother after all these years,” Izuku says easily, brushing the invisible lint off his coat. “Kacchan and Shouto-kun are there with me to keep the nightmares at bay because, after all, here in PSB we fight monsters with monsters, isn’t that right?”

“You--!” Kando flushes a bright red and clenches his teeth. “Clearly, I didn’t have to worry about you falling with these degenerates when you’re already there yourself.”

Izuku‘s next carefully chosen words are bitten off when a familiar arm slip around his waist and holds him back against a firm chest. He tilts his head back enough to see Katsuki hooking his chin over Izuku’s right shoulder. “Old man,” Katsuki says in greeting, and there’s particularly vicious grin on his face that he only gets when he’s hunting down criminals. “I hope you aren’t harassing our master too much because we still need him to keep us sane so we don’t start killing off model citizens like you.” 

Kando’s face pales and he takes a hasty step back from them. “Is that a threat, Enforcer Bakugou?! I will have you arrested for intimidating a superior officer!”

Narrowing his eyes, Izuku opens his mouth to snap back at Kando but a hand slip into his right palm and holds him back from further rebuttal. Shouto steps forward and takes his place right beside Izuku, squeezing Izuku’s hand in comfort.

“Bakugou, please consider your words or disciplinary action will be taken against you again,” Shouto scolds at Katsuki, who only bares his teeth at him and tightens his hold on Izuku like an overgrown wolf clinging to his back, before turning his attention to Kando. “Forgive us, Sergeant Kando, but we’re very tired from working the graveyard shift and solving this brutal case so we’re not all in our right mind to associate normally with other people at the moment. So if you excuse us, we’ll just head back to the bureau and be out of your hair now.”

Katsuki lets go of Izuku enough to take his other free hand and drags Izuku back to the Iron Cage, where the rest of their unit is already waiting for them.

Shouto, though, remains there for a second with Kando and Izuku can hear him lowering his voice almost to a whisper but the words are clear and precise as it cuts through the air like the fine edge of a knife:  “And sergeant, don’t let us see you trying to recruit Izuku to your department again or we’ll show you exactly how we earned our spot as Enforcers here.”

He leaves Kando frozen in his spot as he quickly joins Izuku and Katsuki again, his hand catching hold of Izuku’s again. It’s October and Tokyo’s nights are cold and wet but Izuku doesn’t feel a thing because both his hands are occupied and they’re startlingly warm.

Izuku’s dreams are haunted by monsters every night but the scariest ones he found are the monsters that exist in reality and wear the suit of a man. Yet, isn’t it strange that Izuku finds himself most comfortable surrounded in darkness by them? Perhaps, they’re all cut from the same cloth in the end.

Chapter Text

The bodies of Izuku’s escorting detail are strung all over the deck like a bunch of discarded goods put out on display. The few that had immediately gave up when the pirates had boarded their airship were rounded up, their guns taken from them, and thrown in the brig with the rest crewmen and captain of the Gallant.

Izuku and the rest of the passengers are pushed upward toward the main deck and they watch helplessly as more and more pirates board their civilian transport airship with nobody to stop them. The fear is palpable in the air and everyone is terrified that their next breath is to be their last as they hunched over and crowded into several tight circles around each other as though that can protect them from the ruthlessness of the pirates.

Izuku is the only one who remains standing and apart, head held high and shoulders tense as the man he has been waiting finally steps on board.

The pirates immediately freeze up and stop what they’re doing to silently part way for the man in a fine black tailcoat as he strides forward with a strange golden weapon attached to his back.

He completely walks pass a crowd of wealthy and elite nobles from the capital and toward Izuku instead.

“Lord Midoriya,” the man greets Izuku icily, and the words sound foreign and cutting from his mouth. “Or should I say Prince Consort to-be? I wonder how much Prince Tomura would pay to for the body of his fiance to be delivered to him?” he muses.

Izuku doesn’t step back, remain rooted in his spot as he stares down at the man. He flicks the dagger hidden in his right sleeve out and raise it toward the man with the clockwork heart and golden gunblade strapped to his back. On his face, the man wears the fame brass mask that covers his mouth like the muzzle of a wild animal as the defining trait that marked him as Zero.

The Dread Pirate Zero of the Azure Sky.

Izuku can’t hold back the chills that run up his spine at Zero’s appearance before him now but he stands his ground despite it. “Call me whatever,” he says lowly, holding the dagger precariously between them, “but I won’t let you take me alive, Zero.”

Ten years. Nearly ten years since Izuku had lost his heart to Zero and his crew. Izuku won’t be another casualty to be fall under Zero’s hand. 

Something dark and heated flash across Zero’s pitched black eyes. “You brought a sword to a gunfight?” he says, and Izuku can hear the apparent sneer in his voice. “Stupid and suicidal, aren’t you?”

Izuku’s chest prickles in irritation but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “I’m very good with my hands so why don’t you give me a try and see how it’ll go for you?” he says instead and smiles, all teeth and sharp edges.

Zero’s narrow his eyes contemplatively before abruptly moving right into Izuku’s space. In response Izuku lunges forward, dagger cutting through the air to stab right into Zero’s chest but Zero sidesteps it and grabs Izuku’s elbow with one hand and with the other knocks Izuku’s dagger out of his grasps. It falls to the floor in a deafening clang and Izuku is momentarily stunned at being completely disarmed so quickly.

Zero twists Izuku’s arm behind his back and pulls Izuku up against his chest till that cold mask is close enough to Izuku’s face that he feels the lack of a heartbeat and warmth from Zero’s body. “You may be good but I’m better,” he whispers into Izuku’s ears and it’s a scathing criticism that reddens Izuku’s ears in humiliation. “Fool. Even if a hundred year pass, you’ll never beat me.”

The familiar words struck him down like lightning.

In Izuku’s memory there lives a boy glowing like the fire of a burning sun and with a pair of defiant red eyes who had taunted and teased Izuku relentlessly, ripping him apart with each word: “Deku, you fool, even if a hundred year pass, you’ll never beat me!” Before pulling Izuku up and gently put Izuku back together again. “That’s why I will always be with you because you can’t do anything without me!”

Chapter Text

“Where is he?!” Bakugou demands, storming into the room with the all the flair and drama of someone beholden of his station. Truly an ill-mannered brute.

“Behind this door,” Shouto answers him calmly, putting down his fifth cup of tea so far for the night on the table.

“Should have fucking send for me sooner,” Katsuki snaps, eyes flashing with contempt.

Shouto frowns and sighs, exhaling deeply like he can rid the annoyance that is taking root there whenever he’s in the vicinity of Bakugou’s space. “I wanted to but Izuku had specifically requested that I don’t,” he explains.

Bakugou snarls, a frustrated cry that echoes in the hollow chamber of Shouto and Izuku’s bedroom. “That’s because he’s a fucking idiot with a martyr complex so huge that I’m surprised he can even fucking stand with all that weight on him,” he spits out.

Shouto wouldn’t have put it like that but he knows Izuku would rather chop his arm off that ever ask for help if he thinks it would inconvenience anyone. It’s an endearing but frustrating trait of Izuku.

“Nonetheless,” he shakes his head, “thank you for coming here so quickly and at this late. Izuku and I are grateful for your assistance at this… trying time of his.”

“Ha,” Bakugou says, with a sneer on his face, “don’t speak like I’m doing you a favor. This is my fucking right as Deku’s alpha to deal with him in his heat.”

Shouto flinches. Bakugou always knew where to strike the hardest. He’ll find the tiniest of cracks and digs his hand in to get what he’ll want from it. It’s why he’s one of the best young warriors of the empire and Shouto hates him in times like this.

Izuku’s heat had come earlier than expected and they were wholly unprepared for it. It’s the first heat since they had gotten married and Izuku, who had never spent a heat away from Bakugou, was hurting because of it.

Izuku suffering in pain was not something Shouto had been ready for. He wishes he could have been of use to Izuku, to ease his discomfort and mend his hurt but he wasn’t the answer and person Izuku’s body was looking for.

He shoots Bakugou a glare and flattens his lips. “Do not overstep my patience, Bakugou,” he says lowly. “You’re only here is because I wish for you and nothing else. You have no right to Izuku and by the empire’s law he’s mine.”

Bakugou steps forward and bangs his hand against the table, sloshing the tea in Shouto’s cup so hard that it spills outward. “I don’t fucking care what you are to him but Deku has been mine since the day he was born. He’s maybe your husband now, but he has always been my omega,” he insists.

The Bakugou Clan is ancient and powerful family, heavily rooted in traditions and archaic beliefs but they’re one of the last bastions of the empire and their ambition is only curved by the wealth and power that the royal family, Shouto’s father, have given them. But now that Shouto has claimed a member of that clan as his, it’s a near blood feud brewing in the empire and even by the laws of the land that keep Izuku away from Katsuki, the baser instinct call Izuku will only have Bakugou answer him.

Shouto remains silent, his hands curling tightly at his side. There’s no rebuke he can offer against that truth.

Izuku spoke of Shouto as though he was a saint, kinder and gentler than Izuku deserves like Shouto was some hero who had saved him but Shouto knows that is a lie. He’s no hero. No hero at all.

He had scooped Izuku right out of Bakugou’s hand the moment that Bakugou and Izuku had a falling out. Quickly taking advantage of the situation, he’d married Izuku before Izuku would come to later regret it. It was selfish and greedy of him to prey on Izuku’s weakness and the fractured relationship of his and Bakugou, but Shouto knew there was no other way for him to have Izuku not when Izuku and Bakugou seem to be bound together by some cosmic destiny that Shouto can’t even hope to understand.

Izuku had belonged to Bakugou long before Shouto had met him in that garden and inexplicitly fell so hard for that bright smile and evergreen eyes. Izuku was the first to broke down the steel wall of his heart and had looked at him not as a black sheep of the royal family but as himself and before he knew it, he wanted Izuku’s smiles and eyes all to himself.

It was the first time he wanted something so much that he had begged his father for help.

“I fucking thought so,” Bakugou says, pulling back with a victorious and manic grin on his face. He steps away from Shouto and heads off toward the direction where all that Shouto covets and Bakugou’s most prized treasure was stolen from him, lay beyond that door.

Bakugou stops right in front of the sliding doors and looks back at Shouto with a haughty look on his face. “Are you going to fucking come in with me or not?” he demands.

Shouto’s brows shoot up in surprise. “You want me to go in there with you?”

“You’re going to be a cagey fuck about it all night long and it’s going to bother Deku if he thinks you have a problem with it. Besides,” he says with a smirk on his face that makes Shouto’s hand a little too twitchy for a fight, “you’re masochistic bastard that had dared to marry an omega that is already bonded to somebody else, so clearly you’ll enjoy watching me fuck your husband too.”

Shouto narrows his eyes but doesn’t rise to the bait. Bakugou is annoyingly aggravating but purposeful.

He stands up from his seat on the tatami and meets Bakugou at the door. They don’t look at each other and doesn’t say another word as Bakugou slides the door open and the smell and feverish heat hit them like a tidal wave.

Bakugou lets out a defeated groan as he forcibly marches in with Shouto in tow and the sound of Izuku’s moans welcome with every shaky step that they take.

They step behind the partition that divided the room and the moment they lay eyes on Izuku, a writhing mess on the futon, they both crumble to the floor to meet him.

Izuku’s eyes are glassy and his cheeks are flushed with exertion but he recognizes them straight away as Bakugou leans in close and reaches for Izuku with clumsy hands.

“Fuck, Deku, you shithead,” he mutters under his breath, and it’s so fond and heavy with love that Shouto almost can’t look away from the image of Izuku and Bakugou clinging to each other with desperation even as his heart squeezes tightly in his chest.

“K-kacchan, wha-what are you do-doing here?” Izuku asks, the words coming out of him in choked gasps.  

Katsuki snorts. “To make you sure you don’t fucking die of your heat,” he says.

“Oh,” he says, eyes startlingly big against the candlelight that surround the room and then he smiles, bright and so beautiful it hurt to even look at him. Then, he looks over Bakugou’s shoulder and his smile widens even more at the sight of Shouto. He drops one of his hand away from Bakugou and extends it toward Shouto. “I’m so glad you’re here, Shouto,” he says, and it’s warm and sweet just like that summer when they first met.

“Me too,” Shouto says, gripping Izuku’s hand like a lifeline.

Chapter Text

“Good morning to Katsuki and Katsuki’s new husband,” Denki shouts, bursting through Katsuki’s door like an ill-manner dumbass who thinks he owns the place. 

Trailing in after Denki’s sudden intrusion, Eijirou sheepishly waves at him as he sports a grin. “Hiya, Katsuki,” he says, approaching Katsuki’s table with interest. “Please don’t mind us. We’re just here to see your husband.”

Katsuki stops and lifts his gaze up from reading the morning news on his holopad to glare at them. “Get the fuck out,” he demands, putting his holopad down on the table. “It’s still too early for me to deal with your annoying ass. Don’t make me get my blaster out and shoot you both.”

Denki, choosing to ignore Katsuki’s colorful choice of words and very real threat completely, looks around Katsuki’s barren kitchen and frowns. “So where is he?” he asks.

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose and truly consider taking his gun out but decides against it in the end. Waste of time and energy at this point, he thinks bitterly. “Doing chores,” he grumbles instead.

“What?!” Denki says, pushing his face right up against Katsuki’s. “You do know he’s a gift from the emperor and as a prized imperial courtesan from the core worlds, he probably has never lifted a finger to do anything in his life and you’re making him do your housework?” He makes a face. “Oh boy, he’s going to cry. It’s not even a day and you’re already earning points for being the worst husband ever.”

Katsuki sneers and shoves Denki’s ugly mug away. “He’s not going to die from a little chore,” he retorts viciously. “If he’s that fucking frail and can’t even handle the simple task I have given him then I’ll just send him back. I don’t need a useless freeloader in my home, husband or no husband.”

Denki bites down on his lower lip before shaking his head. “So where did you send him off to?”

“I told him to get some eggs from the peeks so I can make breakfast,” Katsuki answers.

Denki and Eijirou’s eyes go startlingly wide before they share a look of concern on their face. “Um, is that wise?” Eijirou asks, trying for diplomacy as he scratches his chin.

“Katsuki, are you insane?!” Denki says instead, who had barely passed their Xenobiology Diplomacy 101 at the Imperial Space Academy if it wasn’t for Katsuki. “You only had him no less than three days and you just sent your new husband to your nest of killer birds!”

Peekkaasee are large predatory birds with a sharp beak and overly thick scale wings, making them too heavy to fly but what they lost from the sky they gained on the ground instead; they are one of the fattest ground runners in the outer rim and are often used a mean of transport to get around the vast landscape of Nelfir VI.

Also, their eggs are arguably one of the most delicious nutrients in the galaxy and Katsuki’s peeks produce the best eggs. There’s just no argument about it.

“They don’t eat humans,” Katsuki says flatly as if Denki doesn’t know already.

Denki heaves a sigh. “But does he know that?” he asks, raising a brow.  “And eating a human is not even the worst your peeks can do.”

Katsuki frowns.

His farm bred peeks are less aggressive and lacking the killer instinct of their wild counterpart but they’re not exactly docile either. The last time some dumbass had sneaked into his peek’s enclosure to steal one of his prized hen, Fierce, the alpha female of his flock, broke both of the thief’s legs and rip out his left arm for it.  

The guy somehow managed to survive the ordeal and got a new cybernetic arm for his trouble as he sits in the town’s jail for eight cycles. Katsuki wasn’t liable for the injuries his peek had caused defending her territory but when words got around town about Katsuki’s ferocious peeks, there were fewer intruders to his ranch ever since.

Not that it stops Denki and the rest of Katsuki’s former fleet squadron from dropping by every time to bother him about the dumbest shit ever, like this.

“He’ll be fine,” Katsuki says firmly, gripping the edge of the table forcibly. His peeks aren’t killers, he knows that well enough. Nothing will happen to Izuku and that’s the truth—

A familiar scream cuts through the air and Katsuki jumps up from his seat. “Fuck,” he hisses as he shoves pass Denki and Eijirou’s stunned body.

Chapter Text

At the age of twenty-five, Izuku died on an ordinary boring Tuesday in spring. It wasn’t anything spectacular. He always did have a weak heart and one day it gave out. He didn’t even have time to cry foul and at the unfairness of it all, but Izuku’s story didn’t end there. No, it didn’t because Katsuki wouldn’t let it.

Three months later, Izuku is now living with Katsuki–his former childhood friend and the one who brought Izuku back to life. Katsuki calls it a ‘shitty fucking curse’, a thing that had dogged his every step since childhood, but Izuku thinks of Katsuki’s gift as a wonder. After all, it did gave him a new lease in life.

But no power is without its drawback and Izuku lives with it every day. The first touch from Katsuki had breathed renewed life back into him but there will never be a second, a third, or fourth because the next time Katsuki touch Izuku, he’ll drop dead and will stay permanently ten feet under. Just as much as Katsuki’s touch had created miracle within Izuku, it can also take and for that Izuku understands is why Katsuki had called it a curse.

Since the day Izuku had started to live with Katsuki, he has always been extremely careful around Izuku that it borders on paranoia. In their first month of living together, Katsuki refused to be within five feet of him. They’d shared many meals together with Katsuki glued to one side of the room and Izuku on the other, when they walk Izuku always walk in front while Katsuki follows several steps behind him, and Katsuki is never without his gloves around Izuku. These extreme measures, though annoying, was all for Izuku’s sake.

Katsuki never explains why he‘d chosen to revived Izuku of all people, but his actions spoke enough for him. For someone who hates using his power for his own mean, Katsuki had no regrets using it on someone he insisted he doesn’t care about.

“Kacchan,” Izuku says, wiggling his fingers out in front of Katsuki. “Your hand, please.”

Katsuki scoffs, staring down at Izuku’s extended hand in annoyance. “This is fucking stupid,” he points out.

Izuku doesn’t hold back an eye roll. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard you the last twelve times you said it, but I don’t care. So, hand please,” he repeats.

Katsuki drags out a long heavy sigh before placing his black-gloved hand in Izuku’s palm. “You’re such a sentimental nerd,” he retorts.

“We’re going on a date and I want to hold hands with my boyfriend. What’s wrong what that?” Izuku insists, tangling their fingers together like intertwine branches and though he can’t feel Katsuki’s skin against his own, he likes to imagine it’s just as warm as he feels right now.

“Then you’re not only a fool but a fool who is going to die if you accidentally touch me,” Katsuki says, eyes narrow as he lets Izuku tug him forward for a walk around the park.

“Well, I already died once so what’s one more time right?” Izuku chirps back, swinging their held hands between them, but that’s clearly the wrong thing to say.

Katsuki abruptly pulls to a stop, his expression shutting down as he tries to yank his hand back from Izuku, but Izuku holds fast. “Wait–sorry, sorry, sorry!” he says, scrambling for an excuse. “I didn’t mean it like that. I, I just want to do some normal couple-y stuff with you like everybody else.”

Katsuki’s sullen expression doesn’t lighten up. “Whatever,” he says, but he stops trying to pull away. “We’re not like normal people so what does it even matter.”

Izuku frowns, his heart tightens uncomfortably in his chest. “Sometimes, I can’t help wanting to be selfish and greedy when it comes to you, Kacchan,” he confesses.

Katsuki stares at him, expression undecipherable as Izuku nervously shuffles his feet under that intense gaze. He doesn’t say a single word as he lifts their clasped hand up toward his lips and leans down to kiss the back of his gloved hand.

Izuku’s breath hitches and his eyes widen as the sight. He knows it’s dumb. It’s stupid really because Katsuki is right. He’s a sentimental fool, but at that moment he can almost feel the heat sets in his own skin as though it was his hand that Katsuki had kissed even though the idea of it would be insane and a death sentence for him.

Katsuki drops their held hand between them once more and flicks a gloved finger between Izuku’s brows. “Shut the fuck up,” he says, but there’s no bite to it. “You’re seriously the worst zombie ever.”

Izuku’s lip stretches out in a sulky pout. “Hey, I thought we agreed not to call me that!”

Chapter Text

“How many times is it now?” Asui grumbles, watching from the sideline as a Sschnel high priestess performs a bonding ritual with a lot of hand waving in front of their surly captain and their sheepish looking first officer.

Standing next to her, Ochako roll her eyes. “I don’t know. I lost count after their ninth one on Cerrus IV,” she says as Izuku lowers his head and the high priestess puts what appears like a crown of glowing blue flowers on top.

“Do you think—” Asui makes a face and sucks in a deep breath. “Do you think,” she starts again, “since they are married, however many times it is now, on, like, several different planets that they finally get through their thick skull that the entire is the galaxy is telling them to get their shit together already?” She frowns. “I don’t think I can field another series of inquiry about the captain and commander’s relationship status again after having to calm Starfleet HQ that, ‘yes, our two highest ranking officers are married to each other. Again. But it’s all ceremonial, I swear. There is no actual fraternization here.’”  

Ochako chokes out a laugh. “I seriously do not want your job.” And she thought being the Communication Officer on the All Might was enough of a headache, having to tactfully convince an obstinate Bakugou and a reserved Izuku that sorry, these sentient beings think you’re, like, soulmates and are living in sins by not laying claiming to your bond so now you got to get some sort of quasi married to each other in their culture before they start discussing any actual diplomacy with you guys.

It isn’t that all the civilizations they had a first encountered with think like that, but apparently there are quite a number of cultures across the galaxy that put an emphasis on ‘soulmate’ and ‘lifebond’, that their captain and first officer’s half form bond in their childhood was a bright pulsar that can be seen several hundred light years away and have to be addressed right away. By marriage, or their version of it at least.

That conversation never goes well with Bakugou. While Izuku always appear to put a halfhearted fight about it everytime, but he quickly get engrossed in the ceremonial aspect of it and tries very hard to contain his joy of having to marry his captain for, like, the twelve times already. Or is it twenty. Who even knows at this point. Izuku may be a quarter Vulcan, but having been raised on Earth and solely by a human mother, he wears his emotion all over his face and can never mask his true happiness for long.

It’s romantic, Ochako thinks, if it wasn’t so redundant and stupid because they could have just gotten married for real and put all these pseudo marriage to rest finally.

The Sschnel high priestess turns to Katsuki with another ring of flowers for him, her lips stretching over elongated fangs as she, maybe, sort of smile at him. Hard to tell with those sharp teeth, really. Bakugou scrunches up his face and doesn’t move until Izuku unsubtly jabs him in the side for it. Bakugou winces and scowls at Izuku before he, too, soon lowers his head and lets the high priestess put the flower crown on it.

“I’m just surprised Bakugou even let you put their fake marriages on file,” Ochako drawls, arching a brow. “I thought he would rather we all pretend it never happened.”

Asui smirks. “Personally, I think the Captain likes the idea of being marry to Midoriya as much as Midoriya does. Or even more so,” she says, eyes twinkling. “He just doesn’t want to admit that he wants to bind Midoriya down one every planet we visit so Midoriya can’t ever leave him.”

Ochako’s jaw drops and she sobers up enough to pick it back up in time to frown. “Really,” she demands, barely able to contain the skepticism in her voice.

Asui shrugs and smiles. “Why else would he make sure that I put it down on my report to Starfleet every time they’d gotten married. Again,” she says cheerfully. “Even though he knows he could get in trouble for breaking Starfleet’s protocol for marrying a subordinate however fake it is." 

Chapter Text

“When I placed first in the midterms,” Tatsuya says, “I want to take Izuku out on a date afterward.” 

Katsuki stiffens, his shoulders squaring him as though he’s ready to fight. “The fuck you telling me that for?” he bites out in a near growl, bristling with intent. “Are you trying to ask my permission if you can date the damn nerd or not?!” 

The surrounding air is rancid and charge with an underlying tension, crackling under the surface of their conversation as the two brothers stare at each other. 

A beat, and then, “No, I’m not asking,” Tatsuya says quietly, but his voice is steady and firm as crimson eyes collides with crimson eyes across the room. “More than anything, this time I don’t want to lose to you, Katsuki.” 

Their entire life has been one large competition against each other from their parents’ attention to the number one seat in their class. They had made it a game to constantly show each other up and fought hard to climb out on top of the other, but it has never gotten to the point where it‘d became less of a game but a battle of attrition where one side takes all. This is good as any declaration of war. 

Tatsuya is his brother, his twin, and his other half and there will never be anyone like him to Katsuki in this world, but right now Katsuki wants nothing more than pummel Tatsuya into the fucking ground and make him eat the dirt beneath his shoes. 

Katsuki’s lips curl into a vicious sneer. “Good, because you won’t have to worry about losing since it has never been yours to lose in the fucking first place.” 

Chapter Text

“Kacchan,” Izuku starts off, trying for casual which in itself is suspicious enough, “are you free on the 7th?”

Katsuki grunts, feeling a large headache incoming. “What do you want?” he demands with narrowed suspicious eyes.

“Well,” Izuku smiles brightly, enough to ring the alarm bells in Katsuki’s head, “Papa wants you to come over for dinner.”

Immediately, “No,” he answers.

Izuku’s eyes widen like’s he honestly dumbfounded at Katsuki’s sudden rejection. His lips stretch out in sulky pout. “Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know maybe because he’s the head of the largest yakuza organization in Japan and I’m a goddamn cop, tasked to throw people like him in prison,” Katsuki says dryly and then, looking down pointedly at his left arm that still gives him phantom pain into the night. “And he’d nearly killed me last time we met.”

Izuku winces. “He promised me he’d only roughen you up a little.”

“Tell that to my broken arm and two fracture ribs,” Katsuki says wryly. “I was out of commission for two whole weeks while your old man didn’t even get charged with pointing a gun at my head.”

“Papa had just mistakenly assumed you were the one who kidnapped me!” Izuku insists, bristling with defense. “He didn’t know that you were actually the one who’d rescued me the first place.” He looks chagrin now. “That was his fault for jumping to the conclusion so quickly, but he’d realized he was in the wrong and he’s very sorry about that. That’s why he wants to meet up with you to properly apologize over dinner with my family.”

Katsuki thinks of the last time he’d faced Midoriya Hisashi in a head-to-head confrontation: Katsuki’s eyes were hazy with blood dripping from his head and his arms bound tight behind him as Midoriya had all but threaten to chop him into pieces and throw him into the river for getting within ten feet of Izuku, his precious and only son. “I don’t think that’s all what he wants to do to me,” Katsuki drawls, with the full knowledge it isn’t Midoriya Hisashi who will be the death of him but his son instead. It will be Izuku, calling to him from the bottom of the Sumida River and Katsuki will walk right into it with eyes wide open because he’s a fucking idiot.

Izuku’s entire being deflates and expression is wrought with concern and hurt. “Sorry if I asked too much of you. I know you don’t like Papa and what he does,” he looks forlornly down at his lap, “but he’s my Papa and you can’t choose your family.”

Katsuki sighs like its pains him. It most definitely does.  “Fine,” he grits out, “but if your father pull a gun on me again don’t be surprise if I actually shoot him back.”

Izuku’s jerks his head up, face lighting up and he launches himself at Katsuki. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you will have a great time there!” he says, squeezing the life out of Katsuki.

“Fuck, get off,” Katsuki protests, but doesn’t even bother to fight Izuku’s forceful hug.

Love is such a fucking bullshit.

Also, a bullet to the head, but whatever Katsuki was already mad from the start to think he can fall in love with the crown prince of the underworld without consequence while Izuku’s father, the most notorious criminal in history, is watching Katsuki with sharp bloody teeth ready to devour him at any time.

Someone is going to die soon and he gets the feeling it’s going to be him.

The Midoriya residence is a sprawling estate that stretches across an entire city block. It styled itself in the memories of the architecture masterpieces of the Edo period with raised wooden pathways that lead through a maze of smaller buildings and teahouses, koi and water lilies ponds run around it, and elaborate gardens of green surround them in all direction. 

It’s grand, complex, and so rooted in history for a second Katsuki almost forgot where he is. Almost. The moment he’d stepped in the Midoriya’s compound, he’d noticed the numerous security cameras tucked away in every corners and crevasses, the armed guards that are station all over the grounds, and the sharp edges to the servants’ smiles that greeted him. 

He knows the Midoriya Clan is old. Ancient by some standards. Blood begets blood and no blood run as deep as Midoriyas who’d once served as a retainer of the Imperial Royal Family before they found out it was more profitable to rule from the shadow and built their criminal empire, the Jaaku-gumi, from the ashes of their enemies. 

The Jaaku-gumi is neither the largest nor the most famous. Despite being one of the oldest syndicates to exist, they are shrouded in secrecy and their current head, the Godaime, is even more mysterious and confounding as the group, but their power and influence reaches beyond the border of Japan and they are the silent hand that dictates the pace of this country. 

And here in the private chambers of the Jaaku-gumi’s tightly secured fortress veiled in normalcy, Katsuki ironically finds himself caught right in the center of it all because of one person. Fuck. 

“Come on, Kacchan! Papa is waiting for us,” Izuku says, smiling brightly as he tugs Katsuki forward through the winding hallways of the Midoriya grounds. 

This here is Izuku’s home, but it’s also the base of the Jaaku-gumi and as the treasured son of the Godaime, Izuku is the pulsing heartbeat of the group. And Katsuki is a dead man walking. 

Katsuki frowns, keeping pace with him despite the hesitance in his own steps. “You’re twenty-three and not a damn kid anymore. Cut it with the papa bullcrap.” 

Izuku grins, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I would if I could,” he explains, “but Papa would sulk for days if I don’t call him that.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Something about missing out on my childhood ever since he’d sent my mom and I away.” 

Katsuki makes a face, twisting up in disgust. He can’t imagine Midoriya Hisashi, the fifth generation head of the largest yakuza organization in Japan, would ever settle for such a childish, sickenly sweet title, but Katsuki recalls in his memory the way Hisashi had gently cradled Izuku’s bloody body up in his arms and how he’d quietly murmured soothing words to calm Izuku’s painful whimpers. That singular moment had said more than any a hundred page thick report could ever hope to say about the crime lord; he’s a father first. 

They stop right in front of a fusumu door and Izuku slides the panel open. The first thing that reaches Katsuki right away is the array of enticing smell hitting him in the face. The sweet and intoxicating aroma of the various dishes laid out on the large table is enough to make his mouth’s water. 

“Mom and Papa, I’ve brought Kacchan,” Izuku says, stepping in as Katsuki trails after him. 

“Katsuki-kun, hello! I’m so glad you can join us,” Inko greets him from her seat. Her face lights up at his appearance. There’s no edge to that smile and Katsuki warms up instantly under her presence. 

“Inko-san,” Katsuki replies, lowering his head in return. He has little respect for those that haven’t earn it yet, but the Inko is his memory is dyed in the color of sunset. She was the image of strength for him with her dutiful care of her son and the shoulders that bared the burdens of raising Izuku through hell and fire, knowing that one day his father will come back and claim him. 

The person right beside her doesn’t say a word, but his eyes track every one of Katsuki’s movements with careful consideration and Katsuki’s lips thins as he approaches the pair with Izuku. 

Izuku plops down on the seat opposite of his parents and gestures for Katsuki to do the same thing. Katsuki drops down on the cushion next to Izuku, crossing his legs underneath the table. Trying to get himself comfortable, he lets himself take it all in for a second, the grand décor of the room that reminds him of a museum exhibition with old stylized paintings and furnishings littered about and the food generous pile all in front of him. From the chicken katsu and curry crab, he quickly counts at least over ten dishes right in front of him and immediately this feels less like a dining room, but more like a banquet hall with an enormous table that could easily seat twelve people and more.

And right in front of him is Katsuki‘s worst enemy. Midoriya Hisashi is—deceptively young and handsome in the way that he looks like someone who isn’t marred in darkness and whose hands had stay cleaned despite the bloody massacre he had made of the sub-group from Toja-kai who had stolen Izuku away just a few months ago. 

Suddenly, it’s all too suffocating. The four of them alone in this large room with no others nearby and Katsuki is already looking at all the exits he can find. It’s dangerous to assume that this is only dinner with his not-boyfriend‘s parents.

Noticing Katsuki’s discomfort, Izuku gives him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, we usually have more people joining us for dinner, but since I was afraid that might be a little too overwhelming for you so it’ll be just us four tonight.”  

Izuku had said that the Jaaku-gumi‘s members are like family to him. Katsuki doesn’t know how that could be when Izuku’s personal bodyguard is the Red Queen, Toga Himiko, who has a rap sheet as long as his arm and her reported bodies count are numbered in the hundreds, but the charges never stick long enough for them to put her away permanently. She’s a fucking psycho, but she looks at Izuku with a deep fondness that had ended more than one life who’d tried to take Izuku away from her. Her devotion for him is beyond a fanatical and while Katsuki doesn’t trust her enough to even turn his back to her, but he’ll trust her with Izuku‘s life.

Izuku was born here and though he spent most of his childhood away from this place out of his father’s concern for his safety, Izuku seems to have very little qualm about the fact that the people he is surrounded by on a daily basis all have blood-stained hands.  

Family, sure. A crazy, murderous family that Izuku is at the center of and Katsuki can’t even drag him out. 

Katsuki grimaces. He hates to admit it, but he wouldn’t be able to eat comfortably in front of murderers and career criminals. Not that eating with Hisashi will be any better. 

And at that moment, Hisashi smiles coolly at him. It’s thin and razor-sharp. “Katsuki-kun, it’s so good for you to finally joined us,” he says, and his voice is just as icy cold as Katsuki remembers. “I thought I would be rolling in my grave before Izuku would let me meet you.” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Katsuki shoots back. “And I don’t think you would ever die that easily, sir.” He pauses. “Though it would make our job at the Keishicho much easier if you do.” 

Silence kicks in as Izuku squirms next to him. Inko hums as she piles on rice in Hisashi’s bowl. 

Hisashi laughs. It’s not funny. “You surely have a way with words, Katsuki-kun. No wonder you made Detective at such a young age,” he says unsmilingly. 

Katsuki grins just as sharp as his. “You and your compatriots made it hard, but,” he shrugs easily, “thanks to their own incompetence I was able to climb the rank pretty easily.” 

Hisashi’s eyes go dark. “Indeed,” he says, voice dripping in venom. “I’ll take that under advisement then.”  

How someone as kind and generous person as Inko had managed to snatch the heart of the underworld king? The question alone is enough to give Katsuki a headache.  

Appearance-wise, Izuku takes after Inko and his personality is much like his humble mother. Katsuki fervently hopes Izuku keeps it that way. If Katsuki has a say in it, and he’ll make sure of it too, Izuku will never follow in his father’s footstep. The Midoriya line will end here with him. 

“Papa woke up early this morning to prepare dinner for us,” Izuku pipes up, quickly trying to defuse the growing tension between Katsuki and his father.  He gestures excitedly too the various dishes on the table. 

“It was hardly any effort,” Hisashi says dismissively from across the table, but his eyes are warm when they fall upon his son.  

“He even made some of spicy curry to your liking!” Izuku adds in, scooping a bowl of curry for him. “Try it, I think you like it.” 

Katsuki tries not to grimace as he stares at the nefarious bowl of yellow curry in front of him. Anything from Hisashi‘s hand can never be good.

“It’s not poison, Katsuki-kun,” Hisashi says disinterestly. He lifts a brow thoughtfully. “Not for the lack of trying though, I promise you.” 

“Papa!” Izuku shouts, aghast. “You’re being rude to Kacchan!” 

Hisashi shrugs. “I’m just stating facts.” 

“Well, I don’t appreciate it,” Izuku retorts, not backing down one bit. 

Hisashi raises a palm up and gestures for Izuku to go ahead. “Do tell then,” he says dryly. 

Inko, unruffled by the father and son bickering in front of her, smiles wholesomely at Katsuki. “Would you like try some of my chicken katsu instead, Katsuki-kun?” 

Katsuki can feel he’s in for a rough ride tonight.   

Chapter Text

For a group of highly trained soldiers and specialists in their particular field, who have to deal with giant ass monsters destroying their city on a near weekly basis, Katsuki’s handlers all have various and insistent opinion on what shirt color would accentuate Katsuki’s eyes and where he should be taking Izuku on their date. They’re more invested in Katsuki’s date going well than even Katsuki’s parents and Katsuki’s parents had woke up early this morning just to try to catch him before he leaves so they can extract his date plans out of him and be the judge of it.

Which, quite frankly, is annoying as fuck.

He already got twenty pair of eyes on him at all times and now they’re just shoving their unwanted opinions on him like they’re reliving their wasted youth all over again through him.

“This is a good time to compliment him!” Imada encourages through the hidden earpiece in his left stud earring. “Tell him he looks nice or that he smells good. You want to make a good impression on this date, so there will be more dates to come.”

“That can be kind of creepy, Imada,” Hashimoto says dryly, his voice popping in Katsuki’s ear. “No, instead you want to pay close attention to his body language and read his micro-expressions carefully, because sometimes people don’t say what they mean or say what they want at all! So it’s good to know when you’re unnerving him out without having to say anything at all.”  

“Also, it would help greatly if you smile a little more, Katsuki. You scowl so much as it is that when I’d first met you I thought it was permanently stuck on your face. It makes you look like you were constipated all the damn time, too,” Kono chimes in, because apparently everyone else on this fucking frequency channel had been quietly listening into his date through the audio transmitter and decides at this moment to be an active contribution to it.  

Damn noisy bastards. All of them, really.

If Izuku isn’t here, he would be cursing them out and tell them to get off this channel already. It’s only to be use for emergency and not a fucking love counseling session.

Katsuki doesn’t need their help. He’s going to ace this dumb date. Sweep Izuku right of his fucking feet, throw him right over his fucking shoulder, and carry him off into the sunset. There’s no way for him to fuck this up.

“Kacchan, look!” Izuku says, practically hoping in place as he points to a small building sandwiched between a bakery and a bookstore. “It’s a kaiju’s gift shop!” His eyes light up, excitement radiating out of him in waves. “Can we go in there and check it out?”

Apparently, he discounted Izuku and his ability to still have his hardon for rampaging monsters, poking its enormous head out even on a date. The itinerary list Katsuki had had spent three days creating it sits heavy and hot in his pants pocket, the weight of it is enough to scorch through his pants.

Yea, Katsuki is not the one who is going to fucking derail this entire date for giant ass monsters. Even though he is one himself.

Sometimes, Katsuki thinks soberly, humanity is not even worth saving.

The sign outside of the store says, “Love Monster,” with each of the letter O replaces by a heart and outside the storefront standing guard is a giant figure of Oryx, the worm kaiju, whom Katsuki’s mother had battle against numerous times before.

Katsuki’s left eye twitches. “No.”

“Please,” Izuku says, clasping his hands together in prayer. “Just for little bit, I want to look around. Ten minutes and we’ll leave!”  

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots two women hovering near a window display of the bookstore, their arm interweaved, and the blonde one turns around. A familiar faces meet him for a split second to give him an encouraging thumbs up before returning to her earlier position like she hasn’t cue Katsuki in and Katsuki considers homicide just a for a second.

Of fucking course, the CCTV surveillance and sound transmitter wasn’t enough, M.STR would have their people undercover to trail after Katsuki and Izuku’s date.

Katsuki rakes a hand through his hair in frustration and lets out a resigned sigh. “Fine,” he snaps. “Geek your heart out, nerd.”

Izuku lets out an excited squeal and that’s almost enough to mollified Katsuki’s over. He reaches out grab hold of Katsuki’s arm in his enthusiasm, but Katsuki’s eyes flare up and he steps aside just enough to slip pass Izuku’s touch.

Katsuki’s heart rams against his ribcage. It was too close.

Hurt flashes across Izuku’s face, but it’s gone too quickly for Katsuki to even feel bad about it.

“Let’s go in, then,” Izuku says, keeping the smile carefully plastered on his face.

Even Katsuki know he’d fucked up right there, the various snorts of disbelief and tired sighs in his left are unnecessary, but he can’t stay fix it now. Izuku speed-walks into the shop with Katsuki in toll behind him and as soon as they’re in Izuku breaks away to rush toward a Mythras stone statue, sitting behind a glass box.

The shop is filled to the brim, from cover to cover, with weird kaiju merchandises from stationary, beddings, clothes, figurines, plush animals, and so more that it make Katsuki’s head spin. Kaiju aren’t a popular commodity normally with how the majority of the species are set out to destroy the human race, but the younger generation like Izuku seems fond of them for some strange reason. They don’t look at kaiju with the same fear and hatred as their parents or their grandparents had anymore.  

There are few other people mingling about—some kids and adults going over the display and a single shopkeeper keeping an eye on all of them—and Izuku frantically bounces between each fixture, eyes darting across each merchandise piece like he’s going to make a grab at them and haul them to the cashier to be rung up.  

Katsuki stands awkwardly in the middle of shop, feeling out of sort as he’s not part of the target audience nor has any particular interest in the subject matter. It’s hard to be interest when Katsuki is the subject in the first place as everyone in the shop coos and hollers at faces that Katsuki had either fought against or with before.

“Kacchan!” Izuku suddeny rushes back toward him.  “It’s Mittan,” he says elatedly, holding up a cap with five large black and red horns protruding out of the top. The original Defender of the Humanity, the Queen of the Monsters, The Blood Traitor, the Oathkeeper, and coincidently, also, Katsuki’s mother; she is Mi’tawuatski, or Mittan as her legion of devoted fans fondly called her.

His mother’s iconic horns are more than the size of a grown man. Even the smallest ones are taller than Izuku. They’re enormous, grand, beautifully curved bones with a pointed end, and are a source of proud for his family.

This dumb cheaply made version of it, with it weird discoloration and plastic material, is so offensive that Katsuki wants to rip it out of Izuku’s hand and throw it in the trash, but Izuku pulls the cap over his head and smiles bashfully at him, eyes bright and grin infectious.

“What do you think?” Izuku asks, shinning with the full force of the sun and Katsuki can’t even bare to look at him.

“Ugly,” Katsuki retorts with an eye roll, his races wildly in his chest like it wants to crawl out of there and throw itself at Izuku. “You’re not a kid anymore. Take it off.” 

“You idiot,” Kono hisses, making her presence known once again in his ear.

Izuku’s lips stretches out in a sulky pout and it’s almost enough to hide the dark cloud behind his eyes. “Oh alright,” he says, deflating. He leaves Katsuki’s side once more, distracted by something else in the shop's corner.

Katsuki lets out a sigh of relief. Just a few more second of it and Katsuki would have blown this entire gift shop apart. 

“Katsuki,” Commander Tamaki says into his ear, “are you alright? We noticed your heartrate had just sped up to 387BMP.” A beat. “Most people would be dead by now. Should I send out an extraction team for you?”

Katsuki watches from a distance as Izuku peers at a pile of stuffed kaiju plushs, his green eyes lighting up in childlike wonder and he smiles at it. It’s bright, earnest, and so fucking cute. It physically hurts to even look at him.

“If you or any of your jarheads storm in and ruin my date right now, the next time there’s another kaiju attack I’ll let it roast all your fucking asses and make Tokyo its playground,” Katsuki says, low and menacingly into the mic hidden in the collar of his shirt. 

A long heavy pause passes between them. “Copy,” he answers finally. “We’ll keep on closely monitoring you just in case then.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance, making his disapproval known but doesn’t argue. The fact that they had even agreed to him going on a date Izuku was a surprise in itself, not that their refusal would have change Katsuki’s gameplan anyway, was miracle despite for years they had been insisting Katsuki wasn’t ready for real world interaction with other humans outside of the M.STR organization.  

“Bakushinchi!” Izuku practically screams across the room.

“Ugh,” Katsuki says, rubbing his ears.

Izuku rushes back to him with something huge and black in his arms. “Kacchan! Kacchan! They got a Bakushinchi’s plushy!” he says, nearly barreling him right over in his excitement. “And he’s huge! Well,” Izuku cocks his head to take enormous plush that nearly half the size of him, “not as huge as the real thing but look,” he presses his face into its plush belly and squeezes, “he’s so soft and squishy.” Izuku sighs warmly into it. “I want him on my bed.”

Katsuki chokes.

“Oh my god,” Sakurai says, sounding hysterical through the earpiece,  “does that kid know he’s a total tease?!”

Katsuki stares the large and deformed version of himself—red eyes, two small soft horns, its glittery body, and a pair of tiny black wings that look nothing like his majestic own— held in Izuku’s arms like it’s the most precious thing ever and he wants to punch something. Destroy. Kill. Mostly himself. Or the plush version of his other self.

He can’t even get close to Izuku without reaching human level of a heart attack and every time Izuku even fucking smile at him Katsuki wants to slam him against the wall and claims him.

Katsuki’s teeth throbs, he can feel it’s growing with the blood-thirst humming underneath his skin. His other want  break out of his frail human shell and takes Izuku in front of everyone, paints the wall with the flood of their audience and bathe Izuku in his conquest.

It’s terrifying. He has never been more out of control. More monster than human than when he’s with Izuku.

Katsuki violently shoves Izuku away and Izuku crashes to the floor with a yelp of surprise.

The beast in him is crawling out into the surface; he can hear the bones in his right arm cracking through his human skin, black scales peeking through under it and Katsuki quickly tucks it behind him. But the commotion he had caused is attracting an audience among the shop attendance and some guy reaches down to help Izuku up from the floor

“Don’t touch him!” Katsuki yells, growling with so much force that the place nearly shakes from it.

The man’s eyes widen with unadulterated fear and he quickly drops Izuku’s hand, but Izuku doesn’t seem concern at all as worry lines his features and he tries to take a step forward.

Katsuki backs away, he can’t stop the bloodlust anymore. He wants to trip into the man for touching Izuku, wants to pull out his entrails and paint the wall with it. He wants. He wants—

“Katsuki!” Commander Tamaki cuts in, sounding extremely remorseful. “Sorry to interrupt your date again, but there’s a Type-O Class Nova Kaiju that just appeared in Ward C and we need you.”  

Katsuki grins now, the taste of an upcoming battle and blood of his enemy wetting his hunger for more. This is enough to quell his appetite for Izuku. This is something he can handle. This is something he can fight. “I—I got to go,” he says to Izuku, swiveling around and heads right of out of the door without any further explanation.

“Kacchan, wait!” Izuku’s screams follows him with every step, but Katsuki pushes forward and runs out into the street where a black undisclosed van is waiting or him.

It’s not like he’s running away. It’s just that—did Deku have to be so fucking cute?! Katsuki can fight kaiju that are as ancient as the earth and pull a victory out of nothing, but give him this helpless ordinary human boy and he’s just undone.

Chapter Text

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🌸Dekuchu🌸 @deku • 4h
Thank you so much for the amazing work as always, Zero-san! Fighting 👊!

5.6k Replies               78.4k Retweets              284k Likes

tune @tunerane • 41m
replying to @deku
waaaah, i can't believe you're also a fan of zero! you're my fav idol and he's my fav pro hero so this is a dream come true for me QQ!!

St Mana @manalama • 2h
replying to @deku 
... wait were all those previous tweets all about zero?? OMFG, DEKU YOU DISASTER GAY. 

Deku + Zero @z_dgodt • 3h
replying to @deku 
im so glad ur feeling ok enough to show ur a true zero fiend to millions of your fans 😂😂😂. never change deku. 

Phu Phu @furomon • 1h
replying to @deku 
Ohmygod, Deku! Did you meet Zero last night because of the attack? And he'd saved you?! This is such bullshit romantic trope. My heart is dokidoki over this. 

Yala💜 @glitzflamor• 12m 
replying to @deku 
💥 = Ground Zero. I FUCKING KNEW IT. 

Phu Phu @furomon • 32m
replying to @deku 
Horny on main, I see. 

Stimmy @stimmstimm • 3h
replying to @deku 
i just wanna know if this is a deku's official twitter page or a zero's thirst acc... 

Korn @kornicups • 3h
replying to @deku @stimmstimm
Why can't it be both? 

Jazz @jazzyme • 4h
replying to @redrioter
lol why is everyone acting like deku having the biggest hard-on for zero is anything new??? for us old fans it's widely known in the underground idol scene before deku blew up big that he has a thing for zero. hell, even his tumblr url is dedicated to zero. wake up ppl, that boy is a zero fiend through and through. 

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Red Riot @redrioter • 9h
Bro, my best bro, my pal, my right hand man, I have known you for years and literally almost died for you and yet you won't even follow me?! I'm hurt. HURT. The biased here is ridiculous. Didn't take you for being into idols, though. 

1.3k Replies               7.8k Retweets              29.1 Likes

Lara @animatic • 9m
replying to @redrioter
HE'S TOO BUSY FOLLOWING DEKU. which ya know ain't wrong. 

Orangehead @carotcot • 7m
replying to @redrioter
Zero and I are scarily the similar because I, too, would betrayed my friends and family for Deku<3.  

Dee Dee @delighter • 3h
replying to @redrioter
Deku is going to die!!! He's such a huuuuuge zero fiend. I'm so happy for him T_T. 

Fruitbasket @kiwishaper • 21m
replying to @redrioter
Zero had avoided having a social media account like the plague but today suddenly he created one and followed some idol on twitter? Not suspicious at all, js. 

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Ground Zero @groundzero • 13h
Yo, social media trash! Yea, I finally got my ass on here but this site is still fucking pointless. 
9.2k Replies               94k Retweets              592k Likes

Shanty @sshantyy • 8h
replying to @groundzero
DUDE. my dude. did you create a twitter acc just so you can follow deku? WTFFFFFFFFFFFF. he's not even a pro hero. just some stupid singing and dancing doll. 

Fierce-chan @dekuya • 3h
replying to @groundzero
I guess Pro-Heroes are humans and can be fans of idols too? Weird, I know right. 

Kona @ Zero Fiend @zerobreaker • 30m
replying to @groundzero
I can't believe I waited all these years for you to finally get on twitter like the rest of the world and the first thing you tweet is an insult to us. No, wait I can believe it. 

FLO @flomsters • 6h
replying to @groundzero
If you hate this so much why you even get a twitter in the first place? 🤔 Is it because of a certain someone? 

shine bright like💠  @shinnydeku• 11h
replying to @groundzero
I guess Pro-Heroes can like idols too? Weird. 

Centa @centapac • 13h
replying to @groundzero
The Nation's Sweetheart, Deku, and the vitriol throwing powerkeg, Ground Zero? Never thought that would ever be possible. Wow, this is going to be a hilarious trainwreck. 

SangSang @sangsang • 12m 
replying to @groundzero
🌸💥

Momoichi @moshane • 1h
replying to @groundzero
It's not even a day yet and he already got 1) verified in matter hours 2) at least 3 trending tags about him and 3) nearly a million followers. The power of Zero 😍😍😍!

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🌸Dekuchu🌸 @deku • 1h
Hi there, @groundzero! Thanks for the follow! Haha, weird to see you on here though. I didn't think you even know how to use twitter. 
63 Replies               292 Retweets              832 Likes

Ella Enchanted @greatella • 37m
replying to @deku 
is this what the saying go 'put your foot in your mouth' look like live?

O2 @oxist • 13m
replying to @deku 
Okay, but did you follow him back though????

get ur weird ontimmy @weiweird • 16m
replying to @deku 
ur game is so weak deku 🙄. come on, thats not how you get on his dick. 

lFan @mudgazelle • 22m
replying to @deku 
LMAO. Why hasn't anyone taken his phone away from him already? Save Deku from himself please. This is so embarrassing /o\ and I'm not even involve. 

🌈Rainy @rawrainbow • 41m
replying to @deku 
i love you, deku but i can't watch this trainwreck（／_＼）

Mama Bear Deku-chan @dekubabe • 41m
replying to @deku 
LOOK STOP ROASTING DEKU!!! LEAVE MY BOY ALONE. even gods are human sometimes. he can't help if he's such an bumbling fool in front of his crush okaaay. 

Chapter Text

The blood hasn’t dry from his sword yet when he comes for Izuku’s head next.

Izuku doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even hesitate as he looks up and meets the gaze of the man who is called the Scourge of the West. Blond hair spun from gold, red eyes akin to the most precious rubies, defined cheekbones that cut across his face and a tall well-built physique framed by several scars of past battles; he is a magnificent figure to behold.

His towering and ominous figure is dyed in color of those he had killed on his way here like pigs to a slaughterhouse but the holy flames of Zcar that surround him is nearly blinding. Blessed by the Light, but forsaken their grace, Bakugou is a godless heathen who had sinned enough for even the gods had abandoned him.

He’s a monster. What a beautiful wretched creature, he is. He has absolutely no right to look like that and commit such atrocities. Even the staunchest heart might fall into temptation for him.  

“You won’t kill me,” Izuku states, his words are grounded in an unshakable certainty that even heaven couldn’t move.

Bakugou’s footsteps falter right in front of Izuku as he cocks his head in interest. “I won’t?” he muses. “Do you want to test my blade then, priest?” His tone is mocking and full of derision. “I already drew enough blood on this holy ground so why would you be the sole exception?”

“Because I saw it,” Izuku answers him dutifully from the floor. “You were in my dreams. The northern campaign, the siege of Llamus, the subjugation of Florine. I saw it all as though I was there myself when you laid waste to those places. So, I know you, milord, more than I know anyone else.”

Bakugou’s eyes darken to a muted red that reminds Izuku of dried blood. “You’re an oracle,” he says flatly, the tip of his sword is raised toward Izuku’s neck. “The Voice of the Nines. Child of the Gods.”

Izuku lowers his head. “I am but their servant and messenger in this mortal realm,” he says solemnly.

“And what did they tell you about me, Oracle?” Bakugou smirks. “Do you think your measly gods can do anything to stop me?”

Izuku smiles and it’s a brittle one. “I do not wish to harm you.”

Bakugou snorts in disbelief. “You--? Harm me?! Ha!” Shaking his head ruefully, he glares at Izuku. “You’re not the one with a blade pointed toward your throat, Oracle,” he says heatedly. “So chose your next words carefully. I bow to no man, no kings, and especially to no fucking annoying deities who are all absolutely useless.”

Izuku doesn’t flinch, but it’s a near thing. “You won’t kill me,” he says again, voice steady and even as his heart rattles behind his ribcage, “because you need me. I see all, not just you, my lord. The world is laid bare to me.”

For a brief second something too quick for Izuku to catch in time flashes in those fiery eyes. “You’re offering your service to me,” Bakugou says, and it’s not a question.

Izuku’s eyes drop to the floor as he takes a long shuddering breath. His head jerks up once more and he touches the cold bloody blade in front of him.

The sword doesn’t sing. It screams at him. Voices of so many lost souls who were all cut down by this blade are warped into an amalgamation of resentment, anger, and sorrow lashing out at him. Touching it alone hurts Izuku like several thousand needle pressed against every inch of his flesh.

But Izuku perseveres on anyway, holding the tip of the blade between his fingers. “I know you want to unite this continent under your rule and I can make it happen,” he says.

Bakugou raises a brow, lips pursing in displeasure. “You think I can’t do it on my own?!” he demands.

“I think,” Izuku pauses briefly, catching his breath as the sting from the sword resonates deep inside him, “you will conquered this continent in your lifetime and by the time you’re done all that the sun rests on will be yours. But your journey there will be arduous. Dangerous. Wrought with many hardships.”

“There will be many deaths. It may not be yours,” he continues, keeping his voice steady, “but death will come for your people. For your closest friends and allies. While many will fall under your blade, many more will lose their life trying to make your dream come true. Death stalks you, my lord. It won’t come for you personally, but everyone else in your inner circle is fair game.”

Bakugou rips the sword away from Izuku’s grip and he stomps forward, grabbing Izuku’s wrist with his free hand. “Is that a threat?!” he roars.

“It’s your future,” Izuku explains, holding his gaze even as Bakugou’s grip on him turns painful. “I see all and the path you walk is bloody and filled with corpses. Many of them are your enemies, but there are also your friends and allies among them.”

Izuku doesn’t struggle against Bakugou’s hold. “You may be the scourge of this land, but to your beloved people you’re their god and king and they would die for you,” he tells Bakugou. “Let me help you and there will be fewer deaths in your future.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow. “With my army, I’d stormed your sacred temple, killed your Divine, and spit on the shrine of your gods so why do you want to help me?” he asks, suspicious clear in his voice. “What do you get out of all this?”

Izuku drops his gaze for a moment, breathing in every drop of confident he doesn’t quit feel. “Because I believe I can change you,” he breathes. “That I can salvage your wretched soul from damnation and that alone may save the world.”

Bakugou leans his head back, his entire body trembling. It’s not from anger. It’s laughter. “Save me?!” he demands incredulously. “You think you can save me? Fix me up like I’m one of your broken dolls?” He sneers, squeezing Izuku’s wrist for good measure. “Oracle, you have too much faith in your gods. Or is it because you think too highly of yourself?”

“No,” Izuku shakes his head, “I have faith in you. In your capacity to love.”

Bakugou’s lips twist as his eyes glow with something akin to fire, but Izuku cuts in before he can open his mouth. “I know, without a doubt, of your deep love for your people and your homeland,” he asserts, holding back a grimace as his wrist starts to bruise under Bakugou’s forceful grip, “so if you can even spare a drop of it to the world then there will be fewer deaths in the future.”

“You--“ He drops his hold on Izuku, turning his crimson eyes on Izuku with a burning intent, but somewhere there is also a curious interest. “You’re fucking crazy. But.” He pauses, considering. “I don’t want to kill you, yet, just so I can see you fail and fail.”

“Let me tell you this, Oracle,” he continues, stepping forward right into Izuku’s space, “you can try but all your efforts will amount to nothing. You will live and breathe beside me as you watch everything you love and know burn to the ground. Not even your gods can help you then.”

He extends a hand out and touches Izuku’s cheek. It’s hot. Searing to the touch as if flames are licking his skin in a mockery of a caress. “Know this, by giving yourself to me you’re mine now, Oracle. I will have you until you breathe your last breath.”

Izuku covers Bakugou’s hand with his own, pressing both their hands to his cheek as though he can brand Bakugou’s touch on his skin. “Then, I will make sure I live a long and prosperous life,” he says, staring right into Bakugou’s unforgiving gaze.

A smile is wrung from Bakugou’s face, softening the severity of his looks. It makes him young. Wholesome even like someone Izuku would pass on the street and stop for a moment to look back. It’s the first smile Izuku had seen from him and just for a breathless moment, Izuku’s heart waver ever so slightly.

Tonight, the temple had bled and fell to a man who the gods had long forsaken but to Izuku, Bakugou meant redemption. He knew that this day would come since the first time he had first dreamt of a boy spun from fire and brimstone many years ago. Their path was destined to cross.

But it is Izuku who chosen not to raise a sword against him. Blood begets blood. Death will only bring more death. Izuku’s choice is not pure or kind. His heart is too soft and malleable to cut a man down. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone even if that mean he have made a deal with the devil.

Perhaps he is making a worser choice in the end by not taking the dagger hidden in his sleeve and stab it right into Bakugou’s heart right now in order to end his march of tyranny, but Izuku had took his chance and hope to the gods that this is the right choice for him and the world.

When is a monster not a monster? Oh, they never are.

Five thousands faceless people all gone up in flames. No mercy was given to his enemies as the entire city was razed to the ground under Katsuki’s relentless hunger for more. More lands, more resources, more and more. I could have stop it, Izuku thinks, I should have stopped it.

There were numerous women, children, and the elderly among the casualties, but they’re just numbers now and exist as a footnote in history amongst the Crimson King’s many conquests. Izuku’s heart hurts over so many lives had lost in the fire that had engulfed the entire city.

Their futile effort to resist the onslaught with their paltry swords and shields weren’t a match against large scales beast who can level building with their roar and breathes fire that burn hotter than the flames of the netherworld.

And the only man who can wield these dragons’ leash is quietly resting his head on Izuku’s lap, looking at peace with the world even though he hadn’t given it any peace in the last five years. It would be easy to take the dagger hidden in his sleeve and cut down this man.

This tyrant, this mad king, this oathbreaker, and godslayer. Izuku would be saving the world and the future from Katsuki’s absolute reign of terror that he would unleash onto the world. His action would not be consider a sin. A crime. Or a murder. It would be justice.

It would be mercy. He knows what he has to do. One man’s life isn’t worth the weight of the entire world... but what if that man is Izuku’s world? What should he do then? Katsuki stirs in Izuku’s lap, his head rolling over to bury his face in Izuku’s stomach like he’s hiding.

One of his hand grips the front of Izuku’s shirt as his face scrunches up in pain like he’s caught in the web of the Dreamweaver’s nightmarish spells. Izuku lifts his hand and brushes the sweat from Katsuki’s face. With his other one he covers over Katsuki’s tightly fisted hand.

He says nothing, just let silence reigns and his presence as Katsuki’s sole guide to crawl back from his nightmares. Even though he knows Katsuki has no right to it. not with all the things he had done, but Izuku’s heart quivers with every shaky breath Katsuki takes.

He’d cried for all that who were lost in the fire and hurt for what he could have done, but the only one who can unmoor his heart is the very same man who committed all these atrocities and still be able to make Izuku fall all over himself to chase Katsuki’s nightmares away.

The hidden dagger weights heavy against him and as he looks out at the blood-soaked sky of Naderi and large ominous figures of Katsuki’s horde of dragons looming over them, he knows tonight will pass and Katsuki will take another breath without fear of losing his life.

The most dangerous threat to Katsuki is not among his most loyal subjects, his many detractors seeking vengeance, or even his blood thirsty winged beasts, but the one who tempered his nightmares and sleeps in his bed.

Izuku is both the dagger at Katsuki’s throat and the sword points toward Katsuki’s enemies. Tonight, he will be that sword, but tomorrow is another story.

Chapter Text

The whiff of earthy green undertones laced with a sweet nostalgia is an overdose to his senses. It’s overkill. The scent that call to him to grab Izuku by the throat and–fight–fuck him to ground is so strong he nearly buckles under the weight of his own desire.

Katsuki’s teeth throb as his wolf claws desperately in his chest. Mate. Mine. Want. It whines in his head. Please. Its song is a familiar hymn of desperation and needs, full of pathetic longing and a crushing loneliness that Katsuki long thought he had muted it.

“Kacchan?” Wide green eyes stare up him. “Are you alright?” Izuku asks, brows furrowing in confusion as though he isn’t the source of Katsuki’s suffering. He lifts a hand up, reaching toward Katsuki’s forehead. “You don’t look so well,” he murmurs worriedly.

And Katsuki snaps.

He grabs hold of Izuku’s wrist before it can reach him, his hand firmly clamping down on the bones and flesh underneath. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he growls even as his wolf howls with glee at that lone point of contact.

“I–” Startles, Izuku’s lips part in surprise at the vehemence in Katsuki’s voice and he licks his lower lip anxiously. “S-Sorry,” he says, eyes downcast as he tries to tug his wrist out of Katsuki’s grip but, contrary to his words, he only tightens his hold on Izuku even more.

There’s firestorm raging inside of Katsuki, inflamed by a single innocuous touch as though he was starving for so long and his wolf is finally fed now. For him, Midoriya Izuku’s entire existent is an incitement to riot. Katsuki burns all over to have him.

But it doesn’t matter. None of it does in the end, because Izuku is a human and he is the First Alpha of his pack, groomed to lead and be their Primus one day. Izuku doesn’t belong in his world. Not when his mating song go unanswered, deafened to Izuku’s human ears.

His scent is all over Izuku, weaved into the fabric of their very identity, but Izuku can’t even smell any of it while Katsuki can only succumb unwillingly. Why must he, the future Primus, lower his head to this mere human just because of some stupid childhood’s mistake?

It’s humiliating.

Katsuki tightens his grip on Izuku’s wrist, nails digging into the flesh underneath him. Izuku grimaces in pain. “Kacchan, would you please–?” he asks, but the rest of his words are cut off when Katsuki pulls back and abruptly shoves him away.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” Katsuki spit, his wolf howling in despair with each word that leave his lips, “or I’ll rip your throat next time.” It paws helplessly at his chest. No!

Izuku draws back, eyes wide with hurt and confusion. “B-But why?” he asks, quiet and unsure.

You will ruin me, Katsuki doesn’t say. Instead, “You’re a measly human,” he asserts, narrowing his eyes in contempt. “You don’t belong here. Leave.” His wolf paces, circling inside his head again and again as it drives him mad with its restlessness. No. Need. Mate. Deku, Deku, Deku, it sings.

“But what about our promise we made,” Izuku insists, face pleading against Katsuki’s cold wall of indifference. “You said we would always be together.”

“Kids are fucking dumb,” Katsuki says, averting his gaze just enough so doesn’t see the wetness of Izuku’s eyes. “We can’t all be held accountable for the mistakes we make as children.”

“M-Mistake?” Izuku chokes out, taking a stumble back in stunted hurt. “Is that what you really think it was?”

“Isn’t it? There’s no place for you in my pack,” Katsuki snaps. The bond that hangs between them hums like a ticking time bomb. Humans and wolves. Wolves and human. It can never be. That’s road he isn’t willing to walk just for some furless human boy who can’t hear the songs of his wolf. “And I am soon to be engaged to the princess of the Yaoyorozu Pack so forget about your stupid childhood dream, we can’t be together because I,” he looks at Izuku pointedly, “won’t ever chose you over the pack.”

Izuku’s breath hitches, like his lungs are pierce with shards of glass. He deflates; shoulders slump down and chin lowers just enough that his eyes meet the floor. “Yes,” he whispers. “I have heard that—but I had hope.” He pauses, hands interlocking in front of him in an anxious knot. “I hope that you had missed me just as I had missed you after all these years, but obviously I was wrong to assume.”

“Obviously.” Katsuki snorts, and his wolf growls at him. Wrong. Liar. Liar.

“I see it now,” Izuku answers him, jerking his head up to give him a brittle smile like it would shatter would a single breath. “You may not care anymore for the past or our future, but thank you for being my friend back then. I was terribly lonely, but in the midst of my darkness you were lone single light that shone the way. Thank you for everything.”

This is the way a heart break. With a delicate smile and sweetest words to ever pass Izuku’s lips. It’s a confession and an apology; no matter how much he loves, he just wasn’t good enough for Katsuki nor the pack. And with that he leave Katsuki alone with the pieces of his broken heart.

You can’t stop the world just for a single person, but in that moment Katsuki doubts. Only for a moment though.

Chapter Text

Quirkless. Lesser. Lesser than humans.

The thick metal collar goes around his neck and closes with a secured beep. “Be good to your new master, Izuku,” the Headmaster instructs. “You’re the pride of our academy so try not to shame us. Always remember your lessons and oath.”

“We serve at the behest of those who greater than us,” Izuku recites solemnly. A mantra that was beaten into him since he was taken from his mother’s arms by the DQA when he was only just eight years old and deposited in one of its many training academies.

“Good, good,” the Headmaster says, looking particularly pleased with himself. “You’re quite fortunate that you’re benefactor is such a high profile character that you might be able to pay off your contract debt in ten years or so.”

“Yes,” Izuku agrees, even though he wouldn’t have gained such a debt if he wasn’t stolen away and forced to learn at the feet of adults who claimed to know better. Claimed they were there to help him because he is quirkless. Useless. He must be taught to serve society better.

“Will they--,” he swallows the flash of nerves for a moment, “may I know who is to be my new master?” The Headmaster grins, eyes twinkling brightly against Izuku’s shadowy apprehension. “I have no doubt that you may already know his name.”

“A public  figure?” Izuku murmurs thoughtfully. A politician or an idol perhaps? Someone whose name and face is spread everywhere enough that even locked away in the academy's fortress Izuku would still be familiar with him to recognize who he is. “A celebrity then?”

The Headmaster snorts in amusement. “Close enough,” he answers. “In his line of work he might as well be with the way the media and his legion of devout fans like the sink their teeth into him if they could.” Izuku blinks, mind racing as he connects the dot. “A pro-hero?!”

His eyes widen and lower jaw dropping in surprise when the Headmaster gave a short nod. “I believe he’s around your age, so young still but a prodigy they say. Having broken into the top fifty ranking in only two years after his graduation from U.A, now he’s among the top ten. His performance had truly been impressive.”

Izuku’s heart stops.

U.A., the school Izuku had once dreamed of going to before it all came crashing down. In another life, in another world it would have been his alma mater, but this is his reality now. Now, he can only catch a glimpse of those heroes on TV and thinks of all the could haves, would haves.

That should be me out there, his younger self had thought with a yearnful heart as he pressed his hand against the screen of the TV, but the academy was no place for broken dreams and fanciful wishes. It carved out every weakness of his and crushed it under its firmed teaching.

Izuku may have outgrown those childhood fancies, but he never stopped looking toward the sky like a bird with clipped wings. If he couldn’t be one of them, then he wanted to know everything about them. News clippings, scholarly journals, and books, he had devoured it all.

“I know you always did have a fondness of the pro-heroes scene,” the Headmaster comments idly like Izuku’s earlier obsession with heroes, though argue by his handlers that it had truly never gone away, wasn’t a topic of heated contention throughout his years at the academy.

“This is the best match up we could ever hope for. You’re one of our brightest students—one I, dearsay, haven’t seen in decades,” he says, looking fondly at Izuku as though Izuku hasn’t been dragged into his office so many times for corrective behavior measure.

Izuku has always been a good boy, but never an obedience one, his former teachers would often lament about that fact. It’s precisely why although Izuku had had broken so many grounds and records at the academy, consistently ranked at the top of his class, but finding him a proper sponsor was hard.

On paper, he was perfect, if choosing to ignore his long disciplinary paper trail, but once the sponsor had met him in person and saw all the cracks of his polished submission in the rigid of his shoulders and eyes unwilling to fall to the floor, they knew right away--there was something terribly wrong with him.

Like, how he was a failure for being born quirkless so they had to carefully train him up with the best money the government could buy in hope that one day he could serve their best and brightest. Even then he’d failed to live up to their expectations of him.

“This pro-hero,” Izuku says slowly and carefully. “Does he know of me?” Will he also be disappointed when he meets Izuku like all the rest?

“He specifically requested you. He was very insistent about it,” the Headmaster responds, and then he frowns. “Rather forceful actually. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’d even suggested going through our catalogues of other Lessers first before he makes up his mind, but he nearly rip my head off.” His frown deepens as his face pinches at the memory. “Such a crude behavior indeed. I almost wanted decline if it wasn’t for his reputable reputation as a hero.”

Izuku’s eyes widen. “He asked for me personally? Who is he then—tell me?!” he demands, taking several steps toward the Headmaster with hands extended out as thought he was going to shake the answer right out of him. 

“Izuku,” the Headmaster snaps, eyes narrowing in contempt. “Calm yourself! You’re not a child anymore. You’re a representative of this elite academy, so such ill manner does not become us!”  

Izuku freezes, quickly dropping his hands to his side once more. “I--“ His gaze fall to the ground as heat rises to his cheek. “I deeply apologize, sir. I don’t know what came over me like that.” He quickly falls back, putting enough distance between them to regain his composure. 

The Headmaster sighs. “I know you’re excited because this may be your last chance at getting a benefactor after so many fail sponsorships, but do not forget your place, Izuku.” 

Izuku’s mouth dries and there’s an awful twist in his guts as another lecture starts rolling in. 

“It’s with your head bowed, eyes down, and on your knees at the feet of your master. You’re incredibly brilliant and talented student, but no matter how good you are you’re still a Lesser,” he explains as though Izuku hadn’t heard it a hundred times before. “You’ll never amount to anything spectacular compare to the rest of us. Such is the plight of the quirkless.” 

Izuku bristles, hands clenching and unclenching at his side but he holds his tongue. If he says the wrong thing again, it’ll cost him maybe everything. 

It only takes one chance. That’s all he need. A reason to get out of the academy’s iron grip and its intense scrutiny so he’ll have room to breathe and plan his way out of these shackles that bind him.

Freedom on bent knees and a collar around his neck. Oh, the irony.

“I keep that in mind, sir,” Izuku murmurs, plastering a smile that he doesn’t quite feel on his face. “When will I meet my new master then?”

“Now,” the Headmaster says with a wave of his hand toward the exit of his office. “I’ll take you to him right this instance.”

Izuku jerks in surprise. “So soon?!” he asks. Though he’d long accepted his fate is not his own, but he hasn’t been mentally and emotionally prep for a meeting with the man whose name will be carved onto his collar. 

The Headmaster purses his lip unhappily. “He wants to meet you right away even though I’d insisted we give it a few days to prepare you first, but he’s--“ he scrunches up his face in annoyance, “extremely vocal about what he wants. Twenty billion yens will get you a whole lot of favor it seems.” 

Izuku chokes on air.

Twenty billion yen?! “Is that--“ Izuku starts and then stops, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “I-Is that how much he’d paid for me?” 

The Headmaster frowns, scratching his chin as he steers Izuku out of his office. “It’s how much he’s sponsoring you for.” 

“Ah, I see,” Izuku replies, even though he doesn’t see how is that any different. No matter how they may have prettied it up, it’s still an exchange of money for a service and in any other world that would be frowned upon but here’s it’s a way of life for the quirkless. 

The Headmaster escorts him through the winding halls of the academy where several students—their age vary as young as seven to even older than Izuku at twenty-seven—roam unrestricted in the hallway during their free period. 

The campus is a sprawling education complex.

They’re always learning to be good, better, for their master. Everything is for their master. From basic domestic skills like cooking and cleaning to learning violin first hand under a maestro, and then there’s math and physics. The education here varies and complex.

It’s all in service of their master in the future. They must be mold to be whatever their master needed. Trained to be the best so they can serve to the best of their abilities as companion, assistant, and consort. They have to be everything and nothing at all.

Coveted by those who only saw value in the rarity and the novelty of owning a Lesser, Izuku and his kind are ornament pieces meant to decorate the arms of their master but once their master get bored with them, they’re quickly discarded and are no longer of any worth.

They are considered a priceless treasure up until the point when they’re not anymore. To be treated like a commodity, with no inherent worth until others deem it so, is not the way Izuku wanted to live.

But nobody had given him a choice in that regard. Him and thousands of others like him. 

“We’re here,” the Headmaster says as they stand outside of one of the private VIP rooms where they often entertain special guests visiting the academy. It’s a place Izuku had been too many times before, presented to potential sponsors like a piece of meat to be sold.

There’s a price on Izuku’s head, a price on the head of all the students here. It an arbitrary number, but it’s important enough that people have lived and died by it. Izuku knows his worth, and it has little to do what anyone else thinks, but it all comes back to money in the end.

Money from sponsorship that lined the pocket of the academy, money that kept Izuku and others collared and trap in their gilded cage and it is ultimately money that brought Izuku right in front of this door to meet the man who will decide his fate. Izuku puts on his war-paint.

He wears an indomitable smile on his face as though it was carved from stone as the Headmaster pushes the door open and leads him in. His eyes flutter shut for a moment and he breathes as he steps forward onto the battlefield with nothing but his wits to guide him through.

The room opens up to marble titles lining the floor, lights cascade down from a crystal chandelier hanging above, several muted grey accent chairs surround a glass coffee table, the walls are painted white on white, and even the rest of the decor stay resolutely neutral in colors. 

It’s simple, clean cut, and modern. And it left Izuku feeling cold and bereft every time he walks into this room. The only jarring difference this time around is the other person in the room beside him and the Headmaster. His presence alone immediately takes up all the space in Izuku’s head and leaves him startlingly breathless and dazed with confusion.

Domineering is a word, Izuku would use. All-consuming is another. It’s like stepping into a vortex and getting swept right up in the eye of its storm. A furious red storm that Izuku had been caught in since he was a child, fallen under its spell with a single infuriating glance. It’s those same pair of eyes that had looked at him with contempt and scorn back then as though whatever they found of him it was sorely lacking. 

The man doesn’t rise from his seat and didn’t offer a single word, but Izuku knows him, knows him like he knows his own heartbeat. The slope of his shoulders, the wide expanse of his back, the hard plane of his chest, every inch of him Izuku had a glimpsed of on the TV screen, he’d committed it all to memory.

It been over ten years since they have stood right in front of each other, Izuku had changed since then but so did he. He’s taller. Bigger. His presence more pronounce and dizzying in a way like he’d finally grown into the great person he always boasted to be.

But then again, he wasn’t ever boasting. He had meant every word of it. Believe it like it was a certainty that carried him through every one of decision and action. Izuku have always admired that decisive nature of his and here he is again, appearing before him like a dream made real.

The Headmaster lowers his head slightly in greeting. “Zero-san, I have brought him just as you requested,” he says, stepping aside to let Bakugou Katsuki have a full view of Izuku like he hasn’t been boring a hole in Izuku’s head since the moment they’d walked through the doors.

All the training that got him here, the things he had been primed to say, it all went out the window the second Izuku had seen him because nothing had prepared him for this, for reuniting with his former childhood friend again after more than a decade. Bakugou Katsuki is the one person he would have never expected to come here, let alone if it’s for Izuku. The last time they had seen each other, they’d parted with a lot of tears and vitriol thrown at each other.

“—I never want to see you again, you useless nerd! I hate you, I fucking hate you. Go away!”

The marks left over from that fight had never truly healed. Years later, he still carried those bitter words to into his dream, always wondering if he had another chance maybe he could have mended their tattered friendship again. Now, staring into the eyes of the nightmare that had haunted him ever since then, a strange mixture of wariness and curiosity warring within him.

“K-Kacchan—?” he asks, moving in stuttering steps as though he was pulled forward.

“Izuku! What are you doing?!” the Headmaster hisses, scandalized tone leaking into his voice, but Izuku found it was impossible to heed his words. “Stop that now!”

He takes another step and another, and then the collar around his neck constricts and sends a jolt of electricity throughout his body, dropping Izuku to the floor in shock. Izuku’s trembling hands fumble at his collar as he desperately tries catch his breath.

Out of the corner of his panic-stricken eyes, he catches the sound of heavy footsteps as Katsuki makes his way to the Headmaster in three long strides. He grabs the Headmaster by the collar of his shirt and shakes him. “What the fuck did you do him, you bastard?!” is the first thing Katsuki says, and it’s so, so fierce and cutting that the words cut through the air like lightning.

Izuku recoils, fear taking hold of him for a second.

The Headmaster’s mask of composure doesn’t slip one bit, not even in the face of a top twenty rank pro-hero. Wordlessly, he carefully removes Katsuki’s hand from his person and smiles reassuringly. “Zero-san, it was just a precaution to control him in case the Lesser acted out. Don’t worry, he’s fine,” he promises, his voice slipping into a melodious and soothing tone.

Right away, Izuku can feel the earlier rise of panic and anxiety stirring inside of him is quickly disappearing under the Headmaster’s emphatic quirk. As a level four, the Headmaster has masterful commands of his quirk that let him use his voice to inject emotions into everyone nearby. It’s one of the many reasons he was left in charge of the Lesser Sponsorship Program because he could easily defuse any complicated situations if it arise to that. “Your merchandise remains unharmed,” he is quick to assure Katsuki, instilling as much calm as he could in those words that Izuku’s head is fuzzy with warmth, choking on a sweet toxic scent and if the Headmaster had asked, Izuku would have walked into fire for him.

But Katsuki is not Izuku, he isn’t defenseless babe against such a measly mind altering quirk. Katsuki snarls, shoving the Headmaster abruptly back. Hastily, he wraps a hand around his biceps, nails digging into his skin as he winces in a pain but whatever he did, he sobers up quickly after that.

A level four quirk user going up against a level six, who had been training and perfecting his power since he was young to be able to use it at professional level and fight for his life and the lives of millions of other, is a joke in many ways.

The Headmaster is completely outmatched this time.

“Cut that shit out or I’ll blast a fucking hole in your head,” Katsuki bites out, vicious and meaning every word of it. Both of his palms are crackling with intent.

For once, the Headmaster agrees as he steps back and fixes his shirt. He remains cool and unperturbed, but the slightest tremble in his hands says otherwise. “I apologize, Zero-san, if I offended you somehow,” he offers, and slowly the tense air around them clears out.

Izuku can finally breathe properly now as thought a spell was lifted from him.

 “Yea?” Katsuki sneers. “And who said you can put a fucking collar on him?! I didn’t tell you to do any of that shit.”

“Sir with all due respect, it’s standard procedure to assure the safety of our clients. We put it on every one of our Lessers when they’re meeting with their potential sponsor for the first time and during their probationary period,” the Headmaster explains as calmly as possible against Katsuki’s rising anger.

“He’s quirkless! What the fuck can he even do to me, huh?! The day I let a loser like him get the better of me is the day my old hag of a mother stop nagging me about useless shit,” Katsuki spits out.

Before Izuku can even let Katsuki’s jab against him sink in, he is drag up from the floor by the arm. Just as he got both feet planted on the ground, Katsuki’s hand reaches for him, his palm hovering right over Izuku’s throat. Eyes wide with shock, Izuku can feel the heat emanating from Katsuki’s touch and he quickly squeezes his eyes, mentally preparing for the pain to come.

It never did. A crackling pop erupts near his ears and he hears nothing else except for the burnt smell of metal teasing at his nose.

He gingerly opens his eyes to see whatever remains of the collar on the floor and Katsuki already retreating several steps back with a scowl on his face. Pawing his hands clumsily at his throat as though to make sure it’s real, his neck feels strangely bare and light for once.

“You won’t be needing this anymore,” Katsuki asserts, but it wasn’t aim toward Izuku.

“That was unnecessary, Zero-san,” the Headmaster rebukes, but he moves no actual move about it. Izuku casts a quick glance at the Headmaster beside him and sees while he’d managed to keep his voice even, he is clearly shaken by the Katsuki’s abrupt and forceful action.

Izuku knows the Headmaster has every reason to be terrified.

Even at eight, the Bureau of Quirk Testing rated Katsuki to be a level three, making him leaps and bounds ahead of kids their age. Under the Number System, the government gives the most benefit and support to those people with higher quirk level. In a caste like class system where society value those with active overt quirk that are flashy and useful, Katsuki was already set apart from everyone else a young age. He was already overpowered and talented back then, but it was untrained and wild.

Now, seeing it up close and personal, the way he had blasted the collar off of Izuku without leaving a single singed mark on him, it was so precise and in control that Izuku can’t help the swell of admiration rising in him. Their years apart had done wonder for Katsuki’s burning talent. While Izuku was learning to get on bent knees and serving his future master properly, Katsuki was honing his skills and fighting villains in order to keep their world safe. The difference in their two diverging paths is a bitter pill for Izuku to swallow.

He digs his nail in palm as he curls his right fist, but his expression doesn’t change. Katsuki’s entire series of action remain a puzzling mystery to him. Izuku knows Katsuki, of the young boy who was once his friend and then nothing at all, but that was back then; he doesn’t know of the man who stands before him now.

Katsuki is silence for a moment, his eyes unflinchingly rakes over Izuku as though he is prying apart Izuku piece by piece to see what he is made of. Izuku shrinks into himself unconsciously under the intense scrutiny.

“Fuck this shit,” Katsuki declares finally, breaking the stilted silence, “we’re getting out of here.”

Izuku’s jaw drops in surprise. “W-What?”

“Wait—sir, you can’t take him yet!” the Headmaster interjects quickly.

Katsuki’s head swivel toward him with a glare. “Didn’t you get the money I wired to you?” he demands .

“Well, yes, but there are still paperworks for you to sign,” the Headmaster answers. “And I would like to go over our ninety days grace period in case you any sort of problem arise or you find our Izuku lacking during that time.”

“No need. Send it all to my lawyers,” Katsuki instructs, and before the Headmaster can get another word wedge in, he takes Izuku by the hand.  “Come on.” He drags Izuku forward with a forceful tug. “This entire place creep me the fuck out,” he says, cursing a storm under his breath as they leave behind a disgruntle looking Headmaster, who clearly never dealt with such a whirlwind in the likes of Bakugou Katsuki.

Izuku quietly lets Katsuki drag him of out the room and into the wide hallway and leads him out across the campus with no further exchange. They didn’t speak much or at all in the VIP room previously, but the things he wanted to say and ask were things he doesn’t know if he could.

It’s all very, very different now. They’re not kids anymore; Katsuki who stands at the pinnacle of society while Izuku is just a lowly Lesser. He doesn’t know what he can hope to expect from this version of a much older and mature Katsuki.

He can only hope to find out in the following days, if Katsuki doesn’t send him back right away once he realizes Izuku is not what he wanted.

In their silence, they march through one of the big botanic gardens where most of the students congregate in their free time and in their hurry they stir up enough commotion with Katsuki’s recognizable face and fame, and then there’s Izuku’s notoriety.

Loud whispers swirl around them as they make their way the garden. 

“Is that Ground Zero?!”

“Wait, what is he even doing here?”

“—and with Midoriya of all people?”

“Did nobody warn him that Midoriya is a defected goods with how many sponsors he had turned over?”

“How much you bet Zero will send him back here in a week.”

“Not even. Watch, it’ll be just three days.” 

Izuku grimaces. They haven’t step off the academy yet and the rumors are already running amok. Izuku’s stellar reputation in the academy precedes him once more. 

“Ignore those fuckers,” Katsuki hisses, tightening his hand around Izuku’s own as they make it pass the garden and enters the main pathway toward the visitor plaza, where the entrance and exit is tucked away in. “I’ll kick their ass for spouting bullshit if I didn’t want to get out of here as soon as possible. The longer we stay here the more I want to blow up this entire place up.”

Katsuki’s hatred for this place is made obvious, but then why did he even come here in the first place? Is it really for him? But, then why? What did Katsuki even want from him? All these questions dog his step and confuses him even more. But in that moment he realizes there’s something even more important that he was forgetting.

“Kacchan, wait,” Izuku calls out, pulling to a stop. 

Katsuki’s arm is yanked back and he too halted in his spot because of Izuku. “What now, Deku,” he snaps, turning around with an impatient expression on his face. 

“I have to clean out my dorm first,” Izuku tells him, shifting his foot nervously. “There are things I want to get.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Just leave it. Whatever you need I’ll get buy it for you later.” At Izuku’s frown, he sighs. “What other useless things do you even that is important enough to stay at this cesspool any longer?”

Izuku bites down on his lower lip, pauses, and looks away. “My mother’s mementos,” he answers finally.

A beat, then. “Fine, we’ll go get your stuff first but after that you’re coming home with me,” he states, like it’s an unshakeable true. “No more fucking detour, you hear me?”

And that’s all it take, just those few words is all the assurance he need that maybe this wasn’t some cruel joke after all. Home. With Katsuki. He is going home with Katsuki. Katsuki wants him enough to take him home. For what reason, Izuku doesn’t know yet, but he takes note that Katsuki hasn’t let go of Izuku’s hand since they’d walked out on the Headmaster.

Katsuki’s hand rough, full of calluses and little cuts and scars, but it’s warm, and he holds Izuku’s with immeasurable care. Though Katsuki’s words hadn’t been kind, his hands speak for what couldn’t be translated into words.

This he will trust. In this he hands over his fate to Katsuki, so please, please don’t disappoint him like the rest of the world had. Katsuki has him by his heartstring and Izuku hopes he doesn’t regret it.

Chapter Text

“–in the fifteen years that I have work for Bakugou Industries, I’ve put my heart and soul into this company. I have made plenty of good memories and stride here, but now that I’m getting older I’ve realize it’s time for me to walk a different path–”

“Marry me,” Katsuki says suddenly and brazenly, that it catches Izuku completely off guard.

Reeling back in shock, Izuku blinks as his mouth drops open. “W-what?! What did you just say?” Recovering for a moment to scowl Katsuki, Izuku’s face pinches up. “Also that should be a question and not a demand, sir.”

Katsuki grinds his teeth and glares at him. “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself, Deku.”

Izuku shakes his head disapprovingly. “Sir,” he points an accusatory finger at Katsuki, “let me tell you something: when a loyal and beloved employee of yours is giving you their two week notice, a proper respond is to accept it and move on. This is no time to joke around. It’s not funny.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing to you?” Katsuki frowns, narrowing his eyes at the finger in front of him. “And who the fuck said I was even joking?” he says, snatching Izuku’s forefinger in his hand. He untangles Izuku’s fingers to wrap his hand around him in a firm hold. “Marry me, Deku. You won’t find a better catch than me.”

They’re holding hands, Izuku internally screams. His boss, his terrifying demonic boss who’d threatened to fire Izuku no less than five times a month and made all the undersecretaries cried to HR for his merciless verbal lashing, is holding Izuku’s hand like they’re teenagers in love. It’s so ridiculous and absurd, Izuku wants to pinch himself to make sure it isn’t some kind of a nightmare.

“I-Is this a scare tactic?” Izuku blurts out, struggling out of Katsuki’s grip but he won’t relent even a single inch. “That won’t stop me, I’m still quitting you know.”

Katsuki brows knit together. “Are you an idiot, Deku? I’m offering to marry you and you keep rebuking me like an insane person.”

Izuku is the insane one in this situation?!

He waves their linked hands up and down in the air in a sign of obvious frustration and confusion. “I don’t–you just–oh my god, sir,” deflating, he sighs as though in pain, “why do you even want to marry me?”

Katsuki shrugs. “You’re quitting. How else am I going to replace you?”

Izuku huffs. “That’s not how you go at it!” He slams is free hand on Katsuki’s desk. “I am thirty-seven years old and did you know when the last time I been on a proper actual adult date that last more than an hour before you blasted my cellphone and called me back for some emergency? Fifteen years! I’ve bled and gave my all to you and this company and had never even taken a single vacation or sick day for it!” Izuku shouts, all the feelings he had been containing is dumped all over Katsuki’s desk now. “It’s high time I think about myself for once. This is about me and my happiness.”

Silence, and then, Katsuki leans in close till they’re inches apart. “You just want to quit so you can get fucking hitch and have a family. Then, what’s wrong with my proposal?” he asks, entirely too serious.

“This and that are you completely different thing!” Izuku insists loudly, swinging their linked hands around. “Sir, just because you don’t want to train another person up to replace me doesn’t mean you should marry me to keep me from leaving. That’s not how the world work!”

“Why not? You’re annoying good at your job and this company is better with you in it. If you leave the then morale here would get so low that the employees would all gather together and revolt against me.” Katsuki glowers. “You like me and, at least, tolerate you on a good day and we have known each other for over two decades. That’s more I can for all the useless peons working under me.”

Izuku’s lips stretch into a sulky pout. “See what I mean?” he complains, tugging at their hands. “There’s not even a drop of romance in that! How can I consider marrying you when you give such a lackluster reason?” His sigh is palpable. “There are way better options out there for me. I don’t have to settle myself for this.”

Katsuki pushes himself forward and stands up to full height as he stares Izuku down with the full force of his wrath. “Deku, you little shit, are you actually rejecting me for some crap ass unknown out there who can’t even get on my level?!”

“Well,” Izuku says, who’d survived through several hundreds firing in just the past five years alone, and nods his head eagerly, “yes.”

"Fuck you!” Katsuki snaps, finally releasing his grip on Izuku’s hand. “Money, power, position, I don’t lose to anyone. I’ll show you exactly why I’m better!”

Izuku stares, cocking his head in thought. “Okay, then I’ll give you three months. Prove it to me and I might just even chose to stay.”

“You–you.” Katsuki’s face go red with anger at the audacity of Izuku to imply he only ‘might’ stay around even after all the effort and work put in.

Izuku shrugs, edging backward. “You don’t have to do it, I’m not forcing you into anything, but I thought you don’t lose right, sir?”

Katsuki’s lips twist into a sneer. “Just watch me, Deku. I fucking woo you off your feet that you never look at any other person again. You’ll be so fucking smitten with me that you’ll go to sleep with my name on your lips and I’ll be the only thing you think from now on!”

Izuku’s toes curl in a wild burst of joy that feel too short lived. That declaration of war shouldn’t unsettle his heart like that, but he can feels it stirring just a little. “I’ll see about that, sir,” he answers blithely, even as he thinks maddeningly, oh no that’s kinda sweet.

Chapter Text

Two months into dating Mina, Eijirou finally got his first invite to her apartment, but it’s nothing to celebrate or write home about when he’s just coming over to pick up her new kittens and catsit for a next few days while she’s away on girl’s holidays with her friends.

It’s a big responsibility and a chance to curry favor with Mina if he manages to pull this one off with no hitch in his plan. Mostly, as long as he doesn’t fuck up too much.

Mina had fallen hard for this pair of kittens since the moment she’d picked them up from an animal shelter several weeks back. Naturally, she didn’t plan to take in two kittens right off the bat, but reportedly the shelter workers there had warned her that if she wanted one of them, she has to take the other too. A two for one package deal, because they are inseparable; furiously protective and territorial of each other.

Dangerously codependents, one worker had even insisted, because they were found abandoned by the roadside together, soaking wet and terribly emancipated but curled up around each other for warmth and comfort. Taken to the shelter in hope of finding their forever home, they were inconsolable when apart and more than one hand were scratched when someone tried remove one of them from the other.  

They trauma bonded together it had seemed, after surviving alone with nothing but each other for so long.

Mina heard the sob story and ate that shit right up.

Now, she’s the owner of two rambunctious and overzealously gay kittens apparently, flooding her social media feed with pictures of her newly acquired feline babies at every chance. It’s clear that in the hierarchy of her heart, Eijirou was demoted to make spot for these kittens but he’s not taking it lying down.

Determined to raise some good solid boyfriend points with Mina and earn back his rightful place as her number one, Eijirou intends to show her how good he is with her babies. He arrives at the footstep of her apartment with all the internet knowledge of caring for kittens, brimming with excitement and hope. This is going to go great.  

Famous’ last word, because the moment Mina opens the door to let him in and he’s not even over doorway of her entrance, he’s hit with a high pitch wail and something small and furry scrambling between his legs. Eijirou’s feet dance around the furry cannon ball.

“Hurry up and close the door!” Mina yells at him as she bends over and picks up a howling golden-brown spotted eight months old kitten—who is not only very large for a kitten but lean and tall with large pointed ears.  Like a miniature leopard.

All the pictures Mina had posted of him didn’t do him any justice. He’s absolutely gorgeous, exotic even, with a third of his genes pool donated from a cat in the wild; a second generation Savannah cat who will only get bigger from here and Mina is holding him like he’s just a baby. “Kacchan!” Mina scowls as he jumps off her arms and makes a dash for the living room. 

Eijirou quickly closes the door behind him and follows Mina’s heavy steps. “Sorry, he doesn’t like strangers,” she says, and then pauses as thought to think about it. “Well, actually more like he doesn’t like people in general except maybe me, but then again I think he only tolerates me at best.” She frowns but doesn’t look to hurt about it. “The only thing he seems to care about is Deku and turning my apartment into his own territory.” 

“That’s, uh, overly ambitious of him,” Eijirou replies as they make their way into her living room. There’s a large pink luggage spinner lining one side of the wall and a pet carrier beside it.  

“Isn’t it?” Mina muses, sounding delighted by the prospect.  She always did have a strange fondness for the weird ones. It’s what makes her so amazing. Nothing fazes her.

“So where’s the better half of your furry tyrant?” Eijrou asks, scratching his cheek as his eyes scan across the colorful decor of the room. 

“Oh, Deku?” Mina gestures toward her leopard printed couch where two fur balls are huddling together on the seat. “Where he always is. With Kacchan.” Kacchan’s large body is pressed against a smaller grey mass, squishing his friend against the cushion with all his weight.

The smaller kitten doesn’t seem to care though, enduring it with great dignity as it pokes it head out of Kacchan’s fury cage. He looks curiously up at Eijirou with his bright green eyes. Eijirou notes how Deku’s solid grey fur contrasts greatly with Kacchan’s more flamboyant coloring and patterns.

A solid color grey kitten with large green eyes. Compare to Kacchan, Deku doesn’t seem so special in appearance. He looks like just any other kittens Eijirou had seen before. Precocious and commonly cute in the way all baby animals are, but nothing too impressive. Almost boring and too normal. There’s nothing particularly unique that make him stand out.

But the moment those woeful green eyes land on him, Deku lets out soft meow, tail quivering behind him as he cocks his head thoughtfully at Eijirou and Eijirou’s heart is ensnared in an instant. “Oh my god,” he breathes, bracing a hand over his heart.  

“Isn’t Deku the most precious thing?” Mina’s lips twitch in amusement. “Back at the shelter he actually got plenty of people interest in adopting him but when anyone tried to pull him off Kacchan, he won’t stop crying so they just don’t even bother anymore.” “

“And Kacchan?” Eijirou’s arches a brow as he slowly inches closer to the couch. Just a little touch. A tiny little bit of a touch.  He just wants to stroke the head of Deku. “What did he do to make him so unadoptable alongside his partner?”

“Oh,” Mina says, laughter alight in her voice. “Don’t you know that Kacchan is a lover and a fighter? He sticks close to Deku and protects him from you, me, and anything that breathe basically.”

Eijirou freezes in place at her word and Kacchan’s red eyes narrowed in contempt, his tail flicking irately back and forth behind him as he arches body in an attack mode. “Um, does he still–“ he gestures wildly with his right hand a scratching motion, “do the thing–?”

Mina giggles. “Yea, so you better back up and give them some room. They’re not used to you yet so Kacchan is cautious.” Hastly taking several steps back, Eijirou’s eyes squint as Kacchan hisses, arching his back as though he’s rearing up for an attack.

That go way beyond cautious, he thinks hysterically, but just as Kacchan about to launch himself at him Deku, who was quietly watching their silence battle with curious amusement, uncurls himself from the couch and plops himself right next to his partner.

He smacks his paw right at Kacchan’s face, catching the other kitten offguard, and Kacchan rears back immediately. He howls in pain and turns to Deku with a look of utter betrayal. With his ears flattened down and tail a stiff poll behind him, Kacchan growls menacingly at Deku.

The sound is layered with so much anger and force that Eijirou worries over the smaller kitten but Deku only curls his tail around Kacchan’s own, bumping his head against Kacchan’s chest and purrs happily in respond to the aggression.

And with just that, Kacchan’s aggressive demeanor deflates completely and he, too, lets out a low purr to match Deku as they cuddle up once more, ignoring Eijirou and anyone else in the room completely like they’re the only one in the world.

Eijirou’s eyes widen as he turns to Mina with his jaw dropped. “Wait–what the hell was that?!”

Mina walks up to him and bumps his shoulder with a grin. “Yea, that’s precisely why they were warned to be inseparable,” she says. “Have fun with them this weekend.”

Chapter Text

"Here." Katsuki deposits a discreet black box on Izuku's lap. "You'll need this when you go out."

Izuku looks down at the giftbox, a thin rectangular box that sits light on his lap, but it feels strangely heavy. The thing is deceptively innocuous and boring in appearance, but there’s no doubt in Izuku’s mind what it is. "You got me a replacement collar already?" he muses, one hand carelessly touching his neck in thought. It'd been only a week and a half since Katsuki had destroyed his last one in a show of power against the Academy. "Did you want see me leashed that badly?"

He'd almost gotten use to not having that heavy weight around his neck, but without his collar—his PET ID—Izuku couldn't go out in public, not if he wanted to get arrested. The law is ruthless in that regard; a Lesser like him have to be track and monitor for his own good like he’s no better than an animal.

It doesn't matter that Izuku is no different than anyone else except for his quirklessness, he is considered a property by the state and marker like a PET ID, personal electronic tracker, is how they keep Izuku in line—to remind them of their place in this new societal order; there is no place for the quirkless.

Izuku drags himself away from such bitter thoughts because there’s no point in stewing in it now, and looks up at Katsuki, whose staunch silence has been a strange and troubling thing. "Kacchan?" he presses, staring at the tense line of Katsuki shoulders, the twist of pain on his face, and the clenched fists at his side.

Katsuki exhales a long drawn out breath that make him appear a lot younger, unsure, like he's unmoored and Izuku is the one with feet planted on safer shores. "It's not—I wouldn't," he shakes his head in a clear sign of frustration, "just fucking open the damn thing already." He gestures helplessly toward the box still on Izuku's lap.

"Oh," Izuku breathes in realization, heart warms as his gaze drops to his gift. "That was mean of me, I'm sorry." His eyes linger on it for a moment before he carefully lifts up the lid and inside is a delicate silver band that would sit nicely on his ankle.

Heart palpitating, he reaches for it and then stops. His hand goes still, hovering just slightly above the box. Not quite touching it yet. He lets his eyes roam over every curve and indentation, examining it warily like he’s defusing a bomb.

It’s made up of mainly a thin wall of silver curving inward and at the back is a short chain link to close off the circle. A bar of metal tag engraved with Izuku’s name and ID number is hanging off one of the links with a green gemstone embedded in it.

It’s surprisingly simple and clean in design for something worth its weight in gold. This isn't a normal factory made PET ID. Hand still in the air, he finally drops it down on the anklet, tracing the curvature and feeling the cold metal pressing against his skin.

Lesser belonging to elite patrons would often wear a beaded choker, diamond studded earring, gold plated bracelet, or a signature ring embedded with a nanochip as their PET ID. They’re statement pieces. Meant to show off the power and wealth of the owner and not the wearer.The more ostentatious the PET ID is, the more it would further emphasize the standing of the Lesser’s master.

Sometimes, Izuku wonders if a bit little bitterly, if these ‘special’ PET IDs are even more degrading than the mass produce collar and cuff that they are forced to wear.

At least the former didn’t make Izuku feel like a decorative ornament hanging on the arm of his respective master. They can dress Izuku up in expansive clothes, glittering jewelries, and polite smile but it doesn’t change who and what Izuku is—the lowest rung of the social order. Almost by instinct, his hand recoils from the box and its content as doubt claws at his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Izuku hears Katsuki grunt out. He looks up to see apprehension lining Katsuki’s shoulder and his posture tensing up like he’s ready for whatever the fallout may bring.

Izuku quickly drops his gaze back to the giftbox and thinks somberly when did he become so cynical? For all Katsuki’s flaw, his pride, his arrogance, and his temper—he’d never been cruel for cruelty’s sake. There's no ulterior motive to Katsuki's action because that isn't him.

At Katsuki’s worst, he was a misguided and angry boy who’d lashed out at everyone and everything because nobody had taught him better, but it isn’t in his nature to be malicious for malicious’ sake. Izuku knows that, know it well enough that he isn’t afraid of Katsuki.

Katsuki may not always be gentle or kind in that brusque way of his, but he is a good man.

Somewhere along the way since they parted, Izuku had forgotten about that. Embarrassment sweeps over him. "Nothing's wrong," he murmurs, unwilling to meet Katsuki's heated regard again as he gets his bearing. His hand finds the anklet again, pawing at it with a renew interest.

An anklet is rare.

Rare enough that Izuku had never seen it on any Lesser before. PET IDs are visible maker of identification. A collar, bracelet, or even a ring can make a quick and easy scan but an anklet would force others bend down to make the requisite check—Izuku blinks.

His head snaps up to look at Katsuki with curious eyes. “Did you—?” He swallows, fingers clenching around the PET ID. He can't really mean to do that right? The corner of Katsuki's lips quirk up just ever so slightly in that smug way that reminds Izuku that this is Katsuki.

It’s easy to mistake Katsuki’s volatile personality as just another mindless brute who only knows how to use his fist, but he’d been consistently outshining their classmates ever since they were children. Katsuki wouldn’t be where he is today, among the top young heroes in the world, if all he relies on was physical force and his quirk.

Katsuki wasn't just smart. He got a strategic mind to lead and the charisma to pull it off. And this choice of anklet as a PET ID is intentional. Katsuki doesn't care for others' opinion of him, so this is every bit calculated. Izuku’s eyes widen now. “Why though?” he asks.

Katsuki shrugs, a careless shift of his shoulder that does not highlight the gravity of his words. “If you have to lower yourself before them then they, too, have to lower themselves before you,” he says cuttingly. "They have to work for it just to see who you are."

Izuku smiles humorless, unclenching his hand from the anklet. "I'm not worth much for them to really care who I am," he says, gesturing down to the anklet, "and you are making it hard for them to check my PET ID isn't going to make them suddenly sympathetic about my plight."

Katsuki's lips thin out. "You don't need their sympathy," he says with an annoyed huff. "What you need are allies who stand by you and not let the everyone else fuck you over just because you're quirkless."

"And what of the world's opinion that I deserve it?" Izuku muses. "After all quirkless is a debilitating disability under the law."

Katsuki frowns, face usually tight. "I bought you so you’re mine," he asserts. "Not the state or anyone else. The only words that should matter to you are mine alone. Fuck the rest. They're not important as me.”

Izuku blinks. Hard. And then clutching his stomach, he bends over and laughs. Light and free and so full of wonder. The sheer arrogance in this man, he thinks helplessly in that endlessly fond way of had spellbounded him in the past.

Katsuki is truly one of a kind.

"What the fuck, Deku," Katsuki snaps, and Izuku can literally hear the annoyance thick in his voice. Quickly composing himself up once more into some semblance of order, Izuku pulls back up in time to see the pinched expression on Katsuki's face.

He says, with a thinly veiled humor, “It’s just,” he smiles, warmth from the thought, “all so you, Kacchan. You haven’t changed after all these years.”

Katsuki makes a face, opens his mouth, and thought again before settling on: “You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that.”

Izuku’s smile only broadens. “I know,” he says softly as his eyes drops once more to the anklet still sitting innocuously his hand. He rubs a thumb over the cool metal under his touch as he muses, light and loose, “But not as ridiculous as wanting you to put this on me though."

Silence.

Katsuki wears his pride like a second skin. It’s his armor and though they had been dented in the past, he would rather die than be stripped of it. To think he would even lower himself to Izuku of all people, to a Lesser even, is not only preposterous but inconceivable.

Realizing right away the hiccup that he had made, Izuku’s head jerk up and he sees Katsuki had gone stock still, face carefully and eerily blank. “S-sorry, it was just a stupid joke. I didn’t really mean—“ his next words hang in the air under the severity of Katsuki’s glare.

“Give me that thing,” he instructs coolly, like the words coming out of him wouldn’t turn Izuku’s world upside down.

“W-what?” Izuku squeaks out in disbelief. Horror. And whatever other nonsense this entire situation had made itself into. No, no, this can't be happening.

And when Izuku is still stuck in his shocked stupor, Katsuki steps forward, reaches out, and rips the anklet from his hand. Then, oh-my-All-Might, he drops down to his knees in front of Izuku's feet with a startling ease that sends a bout of fever rushing through Izuku’s head.

Izuku hastily withdraws his legs from the floor, tucking it close to his chest protectively. “Get up from the floor,” he hisses, looking down at Katsuki’s bow head. “I said it in jest. You—you didn’t have to do it!” He flails helplessly, because Katsuki had gone mad. Absolutely, wretchedly mad.

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki snaps with a snarl of his lips. “Don’t tell me what to do.” His free hand shoots out, snakes it around Izuku’s right leg before yanking it down. Izuku struggles against his hold at first, his other free legs kicking furiously at Katsuki to let go.

What a ridiculous picture they both must make with Katsuki making an attempt to hold onto one of his legs and Izuku trying to fight him off, but it's a losing game. Katsuki is a trained hero who fights villains for a living, put away criminal daily, and he has a powerful volatile quirk, while Izuku is just plain old Izuku.

“Don’t,” Katsuki orders, heated palm pressed meaningfully on Izuku’s skin. Just a single word from him can bring such dangerous connotation that Izuku stops, the fight having been knocked out of him at last. He knows exactly what Katsuki is capable of, the danger he poses to Izuku.

It's in the way he carry himself, the scars stamped all over his body, and the lethality in his hands. It's the same hand that is currently wrapping around Izuku's ankle. The palm pressed against Izuku's bare skin is firm, and it burns like a brand, but his touch is careful. Controlled.

He had seen that hand take down a villain twice Katsuki’s size and weight, blast a hole through steel, and send a man flying across town. Katsuki’s hands capable of so many violence things, but hei had also use them to save a pregnant woman trapped under rubbles and carried a child out of a burning building. They'd saved lives; they'd saved Izuku once a long time ago.

Katsuki lifts the heel of Izuku’s foot up and rests it on his knee. He drags his other hand, the anklet still in its grip, near and opens the chain clasp. With an immeasurable care and steady hands, he wraps the jewelry around Izuku’s ankle and closes it once more.

“Things don’t always change, but sometimes they do,” Katsuki tells him, voice low as he places Izuku’s foot down on the floor again and backs away. He stares up at Izuku, eyes unflinching as he says dogmatically, “I’m not that dumb ignorant brat anymore. “

It’s not an outright apology, Izuku knows but he sees of Katsuki’s hunched form and it’s—it's, the dynamic is all wrong. Izuku has the shackle around his ankle, but Katsuki is the one on his knees. One of the strongest, mightiest, heroes of this generation is kneeling before him.

How absurd.

It's maddening, really, but it's a statement if there ever was one. Katsuki’s hysterically clumsy zig-zagging attempt of an apology without ever saying those damning words. That's just so like him. That's just so not like him. Katsuki's right. He's still the same old Bakugou Katsuki that Izuku knows but he'd grown up now. Time, care, and effort had aged him well.

Katsuki stands up and steps back as Izuku’s eyes fall on his feet. “I know,” Izuku murmurs, looking at his newly acquired bespoke collar.

There's no doubt in his mind that it is collar, because all PET IDs in all its many forms are simply that, but just for a second with the anklet sitting easy and light on his ankle, he doesn't feel it. Doesn't see it for what it is, it’s Katsuki's concession to him.

Izuku had been afraid it would be too heavy to carry around, and it is. Katsuki’s intention are weighing him down, locking him in place, but somehow in its confinement, he finds comfort and security. Katsuki can't change how the world may see him, but this is a start.

Chapter Text

“Papa, we need to talk,” Kasumi says, strolling into the living room with a thick binder tucked against her chest.

“Yes?” Papa stops folding their laundry and turns to her, adopting a serious expression on his face. “Unicorn’s vomit?”  

Kasumi nods her head. Unicorn’s vomit is their secret code for dire, serious business that requires their full attention. “It’s about your marriage,” she answers gravely.

Papa blinks. "Say that again?"

"Marry," she says, enunciating the word carefully. "It's about time for you to get marry, so I brought some options for you to choose from."

"Kasumi-chan, I thought we’d talked about this." Papa frowns, looking concern. "I'm happy with just us two. I'm not looking for another person to add into our family."

Kasumi sighs, because they did but Papa fought it off every time like it's her happiness is on the line here and not his. She got this though. Didn't spend an hour rehearsing her argument to not win.

“Papa," she starts, "I’m getting older now and one day I won’t be able to take care of you anymore—“

“You’re ten,” Papa cuts in.

Kasumi scowls. “That’s not the point though! I’m just saying I can’t always be with you and I don’t want you to feel lonely when I’m not there.”

“I won’t be alone,” Papa points out. “I have your grandmother with me.”

“Who will die before you,” she counters viciously. And then, she sends a silence apology to grandmother for using her against Papa. “And where will that leave you?”

Papa winces. “Can we please not speak of death so early in the morning?”

Kasumi’s lips thin in displeasure, but she lets her shoulders hunched over, making herself smaller as she says, “I just want you to be happy and surrounded by someone who can love you even when I’m not there.”

Papa's eyes soften at her words.

Jackpot. Now going in for the kill, Kasumi looks away for a second and drops her voice to a slight tremor like she can barely contain her emotion. "A—and I always wanted to know what it's like to have another parent like all the other kids."

"Oh, Kasumi-chan," Papa breaths, and there's a slight wet sheen to his eyes. He catches her free hand in his and squeezes it comfortingly. His lips wobble precariously but he holds firm enough to says, "Okay, I understand."

Kasumi tries not to smile but it's near thing.

It's a silence and unacknowledged victory, but she'll take it. "Perfect," she declares, pulling away from Papa enough to show him her portfolio. "This," she points toward her binder, "is 'Operation: Get Papa a Rich Handsome Alpha Husband' or as I call it 'Get rich or Die Trying'."

"That's—" Papa frowns, making a face before finally settling on, "a cute name."

Kasumi puffs up her chest proudly. It took her some time to come up with it. "Isn't it?" She opens the binder and steers Papa's eyes to the first page. "Now, I'd carefully handpicked and narrowed down a handful of viable candidates so far for you. I'd chosen only the best of the bests for you, Papa!" She flips to the next page where several categories are listed out. "I placed each candidate in order by how they fair in the ratings in the criteria I found them in."

 Papa cocks his head thoughtfully. "Such as?"

"Well, wealth for one, then looks, family oriented, reputation, employment," she starts, listing them off one by one, "character, likeability, past relationship, education, health, and feelings toward the quirkless."

Papa's eyes twitches. "That's very thorough, Kasumi-chan."

"I did my homework." She preens. It took her several months to gather all the necessary information needed for her data sheets, but she'd pulled through. The fact that a lot of things can be found on the internet had helped a lot, but it was a long and arduous work. Anything for her Papa, indeed.

"Thank you for the hard work." Papa's eyes crinkle and he smiles softly at her. "You're amazing as always, Kasumi-chan." And it's this kind of thing that make Kasumi's heart soar because only Papa, her dearest Papa, make her feels so elated that he wants to launch herself into his lap and scream in joy. She’d known that she’s strong and mighty only because she got Papa to support her up.

At the end of the day, Kasumi is really no good without her Papa.

So, right, she got a mission to complete. "Of course." She clears her throat. Turning several pages forward, she lands on a spread with a picture glued to a corner, several graphs, and blocks of text all over it. "Now, the no. 1 candidate so far at a 7.2 rating is Hirota Ryuu—"

"Our family doctor?" Papa's brows furrow. "And your highest is a 7.2 out of what, a ten?"

"Yes, Hirota-sensei! And there's always room for improvement." She huffs. "Not everyone can be as perfect as you and me, Papa."

Papa stifles a laugh into his hand. "Okay, go on."

"Alright," she says, straightening her back. "For one thing: he's handsome enough that you won't get bored looking at his face, he's a doctor so he must make enough money to spoil you, and he's nice. All the kids and parents I'd interviewed like him a lot. And so do you." Kasumi eyes Papa pointedly and Papa blushes. “He’s blond. Just your type, Papa.”

"Well, he is handsome," he admits wistfully. “And I do like blond hair.”

"Good," she nods her head, pleased with herself, "because I gave him bonus point for that. Anyone that you attracted to get extra points for making you happy,” she says, touching a careless hand to a stray blond hair of her own. Papa really does like blond hair. 

Papa's lips wobble again and he reaches out for a hug but she steps out of the way, shaking her head. "Nope, not until I'm done then you can give me all the snuggles and kisses you want," she says, like it's a heavy burden to be basked in Papa's loving attention and care.

Papa's face fall as he sits back down, but he holds himself still and rapt in attention before her again. "Okay, so," she plows on, "Hirota-sensei scores pretty good all across the board, but the only reason his score is that low is the fact he's a serial dater." She makes a face."I can't have Papa competing with others for sensei's attention when it's the other way around. Your partner should always put your first and foremost!"

"Right," Papa agrees in amusement, which made Kasumi's narrow her eyes slightly because this is serious business.

It's Papa's happiness on the line here, so she's not playing around. "Alright, so next we have as candidate no. 2 is," she says, flipping several pages ahead, "Todoroki Shouto or as he is known to the public Hero Synergy. He's a 7.0 and a pretty good catch overall. I think he’s good secondary choice."

Papa perks up at that.

"You love heroes and he's from a family of them so that gave Todoroki-san a huge advantage over the other competitors,” she continues. “And if you look at his income bracket—”

Papa grimaces. “Kasumi-chan, is that category really necessary? Isn’t just enough if I like him at all?”

Kasumi gives him a look. "Papa, I may be young but I'm no fool," she says, rolling her eyes. "Love alone is not going keep a roof over our head and put food on our table. Here," she points toward a number distribution chart, "this is the average annual income for a top ranking hero. Since his father was a former no. 1 and he also got a good reputation with the public, Todoroki-san has a good amount of sponsors and contracts. That’s mean he’s loaded, Papa,” she says the last sentence carefully in case Papa hadn’t pick up the clue yet.

Papa heaves an amused sigh and nods. “Alright, he’s rich got it.”

“Now, his only downsize," Kasumi grimaces, "is that he got the personality of a brick wall."

Papa chokes out a laugh. "You shouldn't say something like that, Kasumi-chan!"

"Well," she starts, looking heavenward in annoyance, "he is a little dull. His interviews all come off as tedious as watching paint dry and I nearly fell asleep a minute in watching them. His beautiful face can only get him so far. A handsome partner is fine but if their personality is nothing but a stale bread then you'll only get bored later. Emi-chan told me that a relationship need some spice in it to spark passion," she explains. Emi is only a months older than her, but she held hand with a boy before so she knows what she's saying.

Papa reels back, flushing. "You're too young to have that kind of conversation with your friends."

"Okay," she lies effortlessly, like the lying liar that she is. "So moving on to no. 3 now." She turns the page once more, but this time reluctantly as she lands on the next one.

"He's—" she pulls a face, "not my prefer choice but, here is Bakugou Katsuki or Hero Ground Zero as you may know him with a 6.9 rating."

Papa immediately stiffens at that name and eyes zeroes in on Bakugou's page right away. No surprise there.

Growing up, how can she not noticed that Bakugou have always been a trigger for Papa. "I don't like him," she states flatly with narrowed eyes. "Sure he's handsome, powerful, and is the no.1 hero in Japan but he's also rude, belligerent, and annoying." She can tick off all his flaws all day, she isn’t going to waste her breath on him. "There are other candidates fairing much better than him all other categories. He's only rated so high," she eyes Papa meaningfully, "because you like-like him so much."

Papa stutters. "W-what?!”

"I know about the photos of Zero you've collected and hidden under the bed! You don't have to lie to me, Papa," she says, smiling sharply. "I know of your crush on him. You watched his entire interviews and bought all his merchs like you don't know I wasn't going to find it eventually. I even think he’s the reason you have such a blond fetish."

“Don’t say fetish. Who even taught you that word?” Papa drops his face into his hand and groans. "Mercy. Mercy, please, Kasumi-chan. Let me live.”

“I just pity any offspring produce from his DNA,” she grumbles. “They’re probably as terrible as him.”

Papa lifts his head and breathes, “Oh, Kasumi-chan, you’re going to regret those words so much one day.”

Chapter Text

His office door slams open and a familiar voice comes through the doorway. "Boss! There is a horde of children, a horde of them," Nagai gasps, "outside looking for you. What did you do?!"

Katsuki doesn't even look up from his paperworks. "Do half of them look like they will eviscerate you if you get within ten feet of the group?"

A beat, and then, "Well, yes," Nagai admits sheepishly. "The oldest girl had stared me down like I'm the scum of the earth and I'd never felt so emasculated by a child before."

Katsuki slides out of his seat and stands up. "Yea, those are my brats alright."

"W-wait, what?" Nagai squeaks, face running through a gauntlet of horror. "Yours? You mean as in yours-yours like they're your kids? You reproduce? How does that even work—?"

When Katsuki gives him a searing glare, Nagai has the grace to look apologetic even as he doesn't retract his words. "Do I have to go over basic sex education with you?" he seethes as he walks up to Nagai.

"Uh, no, sir," Nagai says, shaking his head rapidly like a wet dog. "It's just, well," he scratches his cheek, "we never saw you with anyone before. Half of us either thought you were celibate and just obsessed with your work, while the rest thought you were, um," Nagai looks like a deer in headlights, "impotent," he finishes in a rush.

Katsuki swats him in the back of his head. "Stop fucking gossiping with the interns."

"Sorry, boss," Nagai says with a grimace. "We're just surprise that you didn’t just have one but several secret children running around and nobody even had a clue."

"I didn't contribute to their genetics," Katsuki grinds out, because he’s tired of going over this, "but those brats are mine in every sense of the word."

"Oh," Nagai says, brows furrowing. He opens his mouth as thought to say more but quickly closes it when Katsuki shoves pass him and heads out of the door. But it's not long before he starts it up again. "I guess that would explain why they don't look like you at all."

"What clued you in, genius?" Katsuki says dryly. "Is it their white hair or grey eyes?"

"Well, one of them, actually have green hair and eyes instead," Nagai points out, which earns him another swat. "Ouch."

Katsuki roll his eyes. "Shut up, you fucking baby. You're made of steel."

"Boss, your fist of fury can blow a hole through steel, so yea, I'm concern," Nagai defends as they make their way from the back of the agency to the more communal area because Katsuki prefer to keep them far apart as possible. Privacy is valuable commodity that he wouldn’t spare for anything less than absolutely. “I’m actually extremely concern when your hand land on any part of my body."

Katsuki snorts. Fuck HR and everyone who thinks fear can't be a good foundation to a build a work relationship on. His subordinates need a healthy dose of fear to get motivated to do their fucking jobs.

Or else they become useless like this—he curses inwardly.

As soon as they step into the main open area of the agency, there's a cluster of front office personals, interns, and off-duty heroes crowding over several small figures.

Their voice drown out all other noises in the area.

"Are you the Boss' children?" someone asks.

"Where did you come from?" another presses.

"Who is your dam?" A curious excited tilt to their voice.

"Awe, you're so cute!" A coo.

"This isn't a daycare," Katsuki snaps, raising his voice above the crowd. "Get the fuck back to work. I don't pay you all to stand around and do nothing." A series of whine escape but they quickly disperse back to their corner, but he can still their heavy gazes on him. Noisy fuckers.

"Um, I'll just go do something over there then," Nagai says, making a run for it before Katsuki can bite his head off also. Katsuki sighs, feeling a throb stirring in the back of his head. He turns his attention the real source of his headache—three menacing little shits.

They make quite a scene. Like pretty dressed up dolls, standing closely together with held hands as they present a united front against the world. Hikaru, protectively bookend by his older sisters, is wearing a baby blue hoodie with rabbit ears and white pants. It's fucking precious. If Hikaru is supposed to soften the world up for the slaughter then his sisters go right in for the kill. Yuko carries herself like a queen in her red laced dress, mary jane shoes, and a black beret on top of her head. Close by Akira doesn't settle for second best either. She has on a Ground Zero team jacket on with a GZ baseball cap on her head, a another GZ piece of merch on her feet adorned in his signature colors, and a plaid skirt around her hips. The brats are out in style.

It's an overkill, but fuck do they look good doing it.

Ironic, though, that Izuku can barely dress himself, but he always makes sure the brats look good enough to kill when they go out. No wonder they always catch attention no matter where and what they do. A sense of pride sweeps over him, because, yea, they're his brats too.

"Numbers," Katsuki greets them with a short wave.

"Kacchan," they say in unison. Yuko in her cold, detached tone. Akira chirps it excitedly. And Hikaru's voice is soft and sweet. They drop hand so Hikaru can wave shyly at him, because his sisters are too cool for that shit.

Hikaru quickly breaks rank and slams right into Katsuki's leg. "Hi," he murmurs, looking up at Katsuki with warmth eyes.

"Yo," he says back, bending down to lift Hikaru up and holds him over his hip. "What you monsters doing here?"

"Delivering Papa's bento to you!" Akira informs him.

A chorus of oohs and aahs echoes throughout the space. Katsuki snaps his neck toward the noise and glares at them to quite frankly shut the fuck up as Hikaru tucks his head against Katsuki's chest. Unlike his older siblings, Hikaru doesn't fair well under the spotlight.

"Papa requested that we bring your lunch to you," Yuko explains, words carefully enunciated and poised as though they can be pluck off of her tongue. Yuko always come off much older than she really is and maybe that's the burden of being the first born. All the responsibility and pressure, but none of the advantage. She got three younger siblings behind her and another on the way; she can't relax at all. There's an air of unapproachability around her that is indifference to the world but doting to her younger siblings and dam.

Katsuki and Yuko aren't close compare to the rest of the numbers, but a mutual respect is share between them. He's the one providing her family with a roof over their head and food on the table, and she holds her tattered family together with nothing but sheer determination.

She's good girl; Izuku had raised her right.

Yuko looks pointedly at a wrapped bento box that had been tucked to her side the whole time. "He made mentaiko for you since he’d said you like it."

"His first time too!" Akira adds with a grin.

Yuko scowls, bumping her sister shoulder. "Don't tell him that!"

Hikaru lifts his head up and leans closely to Katsuki's ear. "I’d tasted it earlier," he makes a face, "and it's not very good," he confesses, hush and guiltily like a prisoner on deathrow. “I didn’t like it at all.”

"Hikaru, you traitor!" Akira snaps as Yuko drops her face into her hand in exasperation. “Don’t go exposing Papa’s secret!”

"You shouldn't be yelling at him when you're just as bad," Yuko accuses.

Akira huffs. "I would never say anything mean about Papa!"

"It’s always you and your big mouth," Yuko seethes as thick black tendrils crawl to the surface of her skin like living tattoos. "This is where Hikaru had picked his bad habits from. "Inky shadows seeps from her feet and spread across the floor, pooling beneath her as several pointed pillars rise from it.

"You're so bossy, nee-chan!" Akira narrow her eyes, spread her stance, and raises her fists, lips curling in a sneer. "Maybe someone should teach you a lesson instead."

"Fucking hell," Katsuki grumbles, stepping forward to get between them. "Hey, hey, cut that shit out, you brats."

He slightly nudges Hikaru in the back to help him out and Hikaru, who is clearly the best child ever, begs urgently, "Yuko-neechan, Akira-neechan, please don't fight."

Yuko draws in a long breath before closing her eyes, finding that zen within her as the inky black tendril recedes back into her body. "I apologize for such an uncouth display," she says coolly, opening her eyes. It's a calm pool of grey once more. "That was rude of us."

Akira relaxes her tense muscle and drops her fighting stance. "Sorry," she says chagrin, but not completely appeased because despite being the only quirkless individual among her overpower siblings, Akira has enough gutso and blind bravery to fight anyone and everything. Sometimes even her own siblings. It's one of her worst and best qualities; she just doesn't know her own limit. "We'll be good now."

"Don't bullshit me, no. 3," Katsuki scolds. "You four exist just to drive me to an early grave."

Akira grins, rocking back on her heels. "But you loooooove us anyway."

"God, knows why," he says, pulling a disgust face at himself because fuck him does he love these little shits and all their complicated neurosis and hang-ups.

"And we all love you too," Hikaru adds, because he’s the best kid .

"Some of us do," Yuko corrects with an up turned nose, because praise from drawing blood from stone. “I may have accepted him, but doesn’t mean he is our father yet.”

Akira's head snaps to her sister as she opens her mouth to give another vicious barb, but just before that Katsuki quickly cuts in: "Okay, just tell me where are Deku and no. 2 first. I'm sure he didn't come alone and I already miss no. 2's death glare drilling a hole in my head."

Kouki’s zero tolerance for anyone’s bullshit, even his siblings, would be fucking awesome right now.

"Oh, Papa is outside waiting for us," Akira says as Yuko frowns beside her. "And Kouki-niichan is with him to make sure no alpha harassed him."

"What the fuck," Katsuki says, annoyed and beyond confused. "Why don't they just come in with you instead of sending just you brats?”

"Papa's shy," Hikaru whispers in his ears. "He doesn't want to bother you or cause you problem at your work place if he were here."

"You guys aren't mate or married so it would improper for him to visit you without causing sordid rumors," Yuko argues.

"And the fact that you three are here, isn’t either?" Katsuki demands dryly, gesturing to the three menace wrecking a havoc in his agency and the ears and eyes that had been training on them since their appearance here.

Yuko grimaces as Akira gives a sheepish smile.

"Mad, Kacchan?" Hikaru asks, mouth drawn tight as his voice quiets out.

"No," Katsuki answers, pinching Hikaru's cheek. "I'm actually fucking stoke." He turns to the other two and orders, "No. 3, go get Deku and no. 2 and tell them to get their ass in here."

Akira’s eyes light up and she grins. "Yes, sir." She salutes him and runs off.

"Here is what’s going to happen when Deku and no. 2 get here: we'll go to the lounge, grab a table, and you're all going to watch me eat your Papa's shitty food and hope I don't fucking get food poison, alright?" Katsuki tells the remaining two as Yuko makes a face and Hikaru giggles in his ear.

Chapter Text

At sixteen, Izuku got married on a warm spring day to a crowd of seven hundreds and only a handful of familiar faces. His new husband was a boy he’d met and played with in the summer of his eighth year, but who now looked upon him with eyes of contempt.

He’d never felt smaller.

Their marriage was arranged by their mothers before even their birth. Lady Mitsuki was the Duchess of Musutafu and his mother the daughter of a shipping merchant, but despite their differing social station they were best friends, sworn sisters.

Now, Izuku and Katsuki reaped the consequence of that promise.

Since young, Izuku was taught under the strict tutelage of his mother and tutors to perform his spousal duties to the best of his ability so that when they meet one day he wouldn’t fail the Bakugou’s name, wouldn’t fail Katsuki. And he certainly didn’t want to fail his future husband.

He was already hopelessly charmed. Smitten. Halfway in love at six years old and gone for Bakugou Katsuki ever since.

But they’d only met once when Katsuki’s parents had sent him to live in the Midoriya’s estate for the summer in Fukuoka. That summer had stretched out before them in a field of marigolds and by the water of riverbed. They’d played and laughed with the folly of youth and ignorance of what the future entailed for them. Izuku only knew of the boy before him; a bright, confident, and willful child who made the world bent to his will and not the other way around.

Strong in mind and body, Katsuki was everything to Izuku.

But even before that, Izuku had learned of Katsuki through long-winded letters from Lord Masaru through a series of correspondence that had lasted all the way up to the first time he’d stepped foot in Tokyo with his parents and soon after he’d became the sixth generation Marchioness of the Bakugou Household.

The boy he had grew to love had now suddenly became a man with a fierce glint in his red eyes and sharp features that cut away at Izuku’s malleable heart. Everything he’d known of Katsuki had disappeared under scornful glares and his utter repulsion in their arranged marriage.

He was impossibly cold and hostile to Izuku, but he had held on anyway because even if Katsuki didn’t want him, he was sure with enough time and effort Katsuki would grow to accept him, accept their new relationship status.

Except three days later after the wedding, Izuku was sent home packing and wouldn’t see Katsuki again for another five years. It was humiliating. Izuku couldn’t even leave his estate for months because he was afraid of the rumors that

Izuku wouldn’t be call back to Tokyo until Lady Mitsuki had fallen ill and was trapped to her bedside for weeks. And it was there that she had begged her only son and precious heir to give her the grandchild she so desperately wants before she lost her last will to live.

Bakugou Katsuki, who could do so many impossible things and do it extremely well, found himself in a conundrum because even he could not give her a child himself, not when his husband, the one he hadn’t seen in five years, was all the way back in Fukuoka.

Abandoned. Neglected. And waiting.

Izuku came back to Tokyo again upon his husband’s request—order—but this time he’s not that awkward and shy young man anymore, who fell for an idolized dream. Armed with a lethal smile, a guarded heart, and a sworn promise to bring Bakugou Katsuki down to his very knees, Izuku won’t forgive or forget. Katsuki may be his husband and Izuku will remain ever faithful and loyal to him, but only after he’d prove he deserves Izuku first.

Chapter Text

Izuku collapses on the floor of Ground Beta, his body utterly spent and useless. Everything hurts and he can’t even feel his legs anymore.

“Idiot,” a voice rebukes him.

He abruptly sits up as he spots a familiar figure approaching him in the dark. "Kac—” he winces and quickly amends to a, “B-Bakugou-sensei,” instead. Even after two months, the word still feels foreign on his tongue like the kanjis are all wrong, clogging up his throat that it has to drag pass his lips every biting gasp.

Katsuki roll his eyes. "If you can’t say it without looking like someone had just pissed on your family’s grave then don’t even bother.”

Izuku makes a face. “That’s a disgusting image,” he says as Katsuki closes in on him till he has to cranes his neck up and up to meet Katsuki’s assessing gaze, his spine crying out in pain from him making it work too hard.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Katsuki comments. “It’s past midnight, brat, and you have classes tomorrow.”

“I know.” Izuku grimaces, feeling the exhausted ache of every word that come out. “I just wanted to go over what you said earlier. You were right; I was relying on my right side too much to start my attack and that had given my intention away.”

Katsuki frowns, folding his scarred arms across his broad chest. His sleek black prostatic left hand is tucked under the other. “That doesn’t mean you should sneaked into the training grounds at ass o'clock and overworked yourself over it till you’re dead on your feet,” he says, annoyance thickening his voice. “Fucking idiot.”

“I’m fine!” Izuku insists, indignant swarming the pit of his stomach. He struggles to get up his feet to prove his point, but his legs seem to turn to jelly and he falls to the ground, landing on his back as every joint throb. His legs spasms uncontrollably as he hisses in pain.

“Stupid,” Katsuki says flatly. Without another word, he bends down and hauls Izuku up into his arms as Izuku lets out a helpless flustered squeak.

“W-Wait! Put me down, Kacchan!” he cries out, trying to struggle out of Katsuki’s vice like grip but he holds him firm, secured against his chest. His left hand grasping Izuku’s thigh and Izuku barely stop himself from shivering from the cold pressed of carbon steel against his. “And your hand! Please don’t stress it!”

“You’re not going to break a ten million yen metal hand that easily.” Katsuki grunts, rolling his eyes. “So stay still, nerd,” he scolds, heaving Izuku closer to his chest until he’s practically bridal carry him out of Ground Beta. “You’re not even fully heal yet from that broken femur and you still want to strained that left leg even more? Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Izuku chews on his bottom lip unhappily. “But I—I feel fine though! I have been trying to keep my weight off it for a couple of days now.”

“All the more reason not to fuck it up again by being a total dumbass,” Katsuki hisses, gripping Izuku’s thigh meaningfully as Izuku blanches. “Stop being so reckless with your body!”

No matter how much stronger Izuku had gotten or the years that had passed them by, Bakugou Katsuki always have a way of making Izuku feels smaller, defenseless, and completely exposed under his hard guiding hand.

It’s both embarrassing and a relief.

Only Katsuki can bulldoze his way through Izuku’s denials, protests, and defenses like they’re paper-thin and then cut him on Katsuki’s sharp edges. It hurts to be around him, to know how this amazing and wonderful man is out of his reach and Izuku is stumbling blind to catch up.

“I,” his gaze drops to his lap, “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, curling up like a child in Katsuki’s arms. He wants to so badly stand equal to Katsuki, but everything he does always end up in failure. Like, Katsuki’s left hand.

Katsuki tightens his hold on Izuku. His left hand is tough and strong, Izuku had seen it punch through a wall with very little effort, but Katsuki touches him with such an unexpected care and gentleness that it sends all the wrong messages to his head. “If you know that then stop fucking scaring me,” he says, tone as dry as the desert, but his words make Izuku dizzy with heat and disbelief. “You’re on the League’s no. 1 hit list and every scumbag in this country want a piece of you, so can you imagine being in my place when I found that your dorm room empty this late?”

Izuku jerks his head up, eyes wide as he tries to find the any measure of truth on Katsuki’s face but all he sees is a steel wall of disdain. It’s as cold and lifeless as Katsuki’s left hand, but like underneath those hard wirings Katsuki is there—every time he reached out, every time he'd so much as touch Izuku, it’s because he wants to.

“Were you worried about me?” Izuku asks, hopeful even through a fog of doubt and insecurity.

Katsuki pulls a face of disgust and snarls, beastly and angry and so, so proud but he ducks his head and averts his gaze. “You can find it out for yourself, shitty nerd,” he says, shoving Izuku’s head over his heart.

All is quiet as Izuku hears the pulsating beat of Katsuki’s racing heart. Ba-bump, ba-bump, it says. Ba-bump, ba-bump, it roars fiercely. Loud, angry, and excited against his ear. Izuku draws back, his heart matching the erratic pace of Katsuki’s own. “Did I do that?”

All Izuku had ever wanted was to move the reclusiveness of this man’s untouchable heart, the same way Izuku’s heart was disturbed so long ago. To know he has a place beside Katsuki, to be the one he can lean on, Izuku wants it all. Wants it so desperately that he hurts all over to have him.

“What you think?” Katsuki bites out, color staining his cheeks and that says enough for Izuku as he sighs happily, tucked up in Katsuki’s arms.

Chapter Text

“One year,” Katsuki says, laying down the groundwork for Izuku’s existence here. “Give me a year of your life and time. Attend to my ‘ailing’,” he makes a face, “mother as her son-in-law, played up the devoted spouse, and keep up the appearance of a noble marchioness of the Bakugou House.”

"And then?” Izuku presses, cocking his head.

“We’ll annul our marriage after that,” he finishes.

“I see,” Izuku answers, looking down at his lap momentarily. He lets out a shaky exhale, curls a fist in his lap and inhales, drawing from a deep reservoir of strength five years in the making. Steeling himself, he looks up at his husband and smiles.

It’s warmth, considerate, but the words that come out are full of bite and thorns. “And what do I get out of it?”

Katsuki narrow his eyes. “Your reputation as an opportunist leech truly precedes you.”

“Indeed our marriage has been very good to me.” Izuku’s smile broadens, and sharpens with intent. “But you haven’t been kind to me, milord.”  His head dip slightly, chest tightening at the uncomfortable truth of those words that he had tucked deep in the recess of his heart. “You’d cast me side for five years, only to now called me back to Tokyo to do you a favor. That isn’t favorable to me, now is it? Is the Bakugou’s name this selfish?”

Katsuki grimaces, bristling with subdued contempt. “What the fuck do you want then?”

Izuku straightens his shoulder, eyes forward as solemn greens clashes against fierce reds. “A husband,” he answers, voice not wavering despite the cacophony in his heart. “I came to Tokyo as a married man and I will not leave it husbandless.” His plan is finally set into motion, watering the seed that Lady Mitsuki had sown earlier with her false ailment. They both know there’s no truth to his mother-in-law’s illness, but played her game anyway in order to bring Izuku back to appease her. Mitsuki-san is truly kind to him.  "That is an embarrassment that would destroy my name and family.”

Katsuki slams his fist against the table, jolting the tea set from their stationary position. “You want me to find you a new husband while you play up the good spouse to me when you’re here? Have you gone completely mad?!” he accuses.

Izuku smiles thinly. “Only slightly.”

Mad enough to be still hopelessly, devotedly in love with the very same man who’d not only neglected him, but left him hung dried in the countryside as rumors and lies smeared the last visage of Izuku’s good reputation. He’d endured a lifetime of misery in just five years. All of it for a man who had only ever cut Izuku’s soft malleable heart on his sharp edges. Bakugou Katsuki is an open wound on his heart, and he will tears himself apart to fix it. If it mean Katsuki will be thinking the worst of him, a dishonest gold-digger, then fine so be it.

“Fine,” Katsuki spits out. “I’ll go with your ridiculous scheme.” He glares at Izuku, eyes alight with breathtaking fire that seers him to the core but warms him all the same. “But I will not have you blacken the Bakugou’s name with your shameless actions.”

Izuku’s body stiffens. “And that is?”

“Spreading your legs for any available alphas in the near vicinity,” Katsuki seethes.

It’d only been a few years, but how could he forget that Katsuki can gut him completely with just a few simple sharpened words; his chest hallows out. Nails digging into his palm enough to hurt, Izuku’s lips curve upward into cold smile. “I’ll definitely make sure to only throw myself at the most capable ones who deserve to take up with a former marchioness of the Bakugou household lest I bring dishonor upon you.”

Katsuki’s eyes flashes in anger. “You—!” he starts, rising from his seat. Hands balling at his side as his tall bulky figure towers over Izuku’s slender form, but Izuku is a fortress built from the carcass of his sixteen years old heartbroken younger self and he will not be unmade here.

“Will you raise your hand at me, my lord?” Izuku asks icily, unafraid and unmoved.

Katsuki reels back his words. Chastened and shamed, he looks away. “I would never stooped so low to strike a defenseless person,” he says, quiet and severe, lacking that earlier intensity.

“I know,” Izuku answers gravely. He knows. He’d always known. Katsuki may have hurt him deeply, cut him up with his words and made him feel unwanted with his actions but he’d never laid a single intentful hands on Izuku. Despite his colorful temperament, Katsuki is an honorable man.

A filial son, a noble and courageous soldier for the Japanese Empire, a respectful aristocrat of the Tokyo’s high society, a groomed heir to the ducal of Musutafu, and a handsome and brilliant young man who stole Izuku’s heart at ten. For all his roughness, he shines above all.

It’s simultaneously a relief and unfair, because it would have been easier if he was just a cruel brute of man, then Izuku wouldn’t be so helplessly bound to him even after all these years. Don’t be kind to me, he thinks in dismay, or I’ll just fall even more deeply.

Katsuki’s hand card through his blond hair roughly. “You always did know how to get right under my skin,” he mutters with an annoyed huff. “That hasn’t change it seems.”

Izuku’s eyes flicker to Katsuki’s face incredulously. “M-My lord?” His heart races with a flash of hope.

Katsuki walks around the table and approaches Izuku like a hunter would cornering his prey. He presses both hands on either side of Izuku’s head against the backrest of his chair, caging him between his arms. “You’re going to drive me absolutely crazy,” he says, like it’s confession of a guilty man on deathrow.

Izuku’s eyes widen at his words.

“It’s a mistake to bring you back here,” Katsuki continues, brows pinched tight. He doesn’t touch Izuku, but the intensity of his gaze burns every inch of Izuku’s skin. Like invisible hands pawing all over him, leaving the residue of his touch on him. “You’re bad for me.”

Indiscriminate power and strength exudes from him. Alpha. Alpha, it all screams. Izuku’s alpha. They never bonded properly, Katsuki always been his and he’s Katsuki’s. He breathes. Long and heady as his head is fill with a feverish pitch of Katsuki’s scent clinging to his body. Such dominate alpha’s authority thrown over him like a thick fog.

Izuku draws up enough will to pinch his thigh. The pain is just enough to break the spell and he cracks a sliver of a well-polished smile. “Good, I would hope I’m just as bad for you as you are for me, my lord,” he says, reaching a hand out to touch Katsuki’s cheek.

It’s just shy of a touch, but Katsuki stumbles backward as though he’d struck him. And maybe he did. Izuku had put all his intents, frustration, and all-consuming wants in that single fleeting touch; he hopes it burn him as it did Izuku.

It’s mean, but Katsuki deserves it.

Katsuki shakes himself out of it, but the impression of Izuku’s touch is all there. In the air. Clinging to his skin. Sinking deep under his defenses. Katsuki plays to win, but Izuku is in it for the long haul. There is no retreat for him. Only forward or death. He aims to conquer.

For him there is no other Bakugou Katsuki in the world and Izuku won’t rest till he has him on his knees. “I guess that make us quite a pair then,” he muses as Katsuki scolds at him.

A year. It’s doable. He’ll make Katsuki fall so hard that he’ll never consider anyone else but Izuku. Yes. This is a war as if there was any doubt. Izuku’s heart is on the line and he has no intention of losing.

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With a decade of wrangling criminals into cuffs and stopping people from doing stupid things, Uemura Isao thought he had seen it all, but this is the first even for jaded old man like him – a heavily pregnant omega walking into a police precinct with his kids in tow is the start of a very bad and ugly joke.

In the midst of criminals getting booked, officers working at their desk, and the rush and feverish pitch of a police headquarter in action, his presence—a bulging belly, a kid on his hip, and three others surrounding him closely—stands in stark contrast to all the chaos around him.

Despite the rowdy noises filtering through and the chaotic pace of this place, he herd his kids through the station with an air of calm and poise that can bring a grown man to his knees. He’s definitely didn’t seem afraid of the suppressive air given off from the all alphas around him, criminals and cops alike. Even with Isao’s ordinary beta nose, the alphas’ scent here is nauseating oppressive and stifling already, but for a pregnant omega it must be ten times worst. Their noise is particularly sensitive at times like this.

Isao would know since his wife was pregnant three times and anytime he was about to clock out of his shift, he had to wipe himself completely clean otherwise any scent stuck on him that wasn’t his own was enough to trigger her.  

Though, this man holds his head high, completely unbothered by all the noise and smell around him, as he approaches the front desk of their office with his kids.

What an impressive omega, Isao thinks wistfully as he approaches the family in morbid curiosity. “I’ll take care of this one, Ozaki,” he says to officer in charge of the front office.

Ozaki gives him a look, but holds her tongue and lets him take over. “Yes, sir.”

“Please come this way,” he says, directing the group over to his corner of the open office. It’s not the kind of privacy Isao would like to give to privacy but it will do for now.

Just as they make their way to his side of the office, they pass by a newly cuffed criminal spiting and hurling vitriol at the injustice of the world and the officers taking him in. The omega and his kids barely even flinched at such crudeness, but for a brief second the oldest girl turns her white locks to look at unruly man with an utter disdain, like she’d found the criminal’s manners lacking, and makes an a huff of disapproval before switching it back to carefully examine Isao again with her cold icy grey eyes.

It’s like every one of these kids does not seem to be faze but such uncouth violent behavior all around them. It’s a startling revelation. What the fuck kind of environment were they raised in? But it’s no time for him to speculate, Isao will get to the truth of the matter soon enough.

“My name is Uemura Isao.” He offers a gentle smile at the group. “Now, what can I help you with, sir?” he asks, relaxing his stance and adopting a softer and gentle tone in front of the omega and his kids, all in the effort of trying to come off as non-threatening as possible. Delicate situation like this takes time and effort and Isao has years of it.

Green eyes flashes toward him and Isao is momentarily taken back by how young the omega actually looks. Just a few years older than his own youngest niece, but still a little too young to have so many kids already at his age. It’s the kind of thing that set off alarm bells in his head. Isao crushes his crude thought of this omega’s mate—the sort of asshole who thinks their partner is just a baby making machine.

It’s going to be one of those cases he knows and he doesn’t like it already. Domestic abuse is always among the worst cases to land on his desk. Too many emotions involve and the cost is too much for any single person to bear, especially when children are dragged into it.  

The omega doesn’t seem to have any visible bruises on him that Isao can see, but he knows not all violence are laid out in the open. The abuser would sink their teeth under the skin, get into their victim’s head, and poison everything they touch so that the victim can never hope escape them. Not unless they destroy themselves in the process to break free. Sometimes, Isao thinks that’s why they’re call survivors because they’d managed make it through that hell.  

The omega hikes the littlest one higher on his hip as the other three huddle protectively over their dam. Isao even got a heated glare from oldest boy, grey eyes boring a hole in his head, who looks like he’s going to fist fight Isao here if he even consider saying the wrong thing to the boy’s dam. It’s kinda cute. In a completely inappropriate way.  

“I’m Izuku and I would like to speak to your captain please,“ Izuku says calmly as he reaches out with his free hand to offer a comforting pat on the oldest boy’s head. The boy doesn’t stop his posturing, but he seems his earlier aggression drops enough that Isao thinks he won’t literally his raise fists at Isao here in the police precinct. Fearless, that one is.

He didn’t include a last name. Isao frowns. That’s interesting. And nobody come the police station for good news, but to directly ask for the highest ranking person here is—something. Something big.

The captain is currently preoccupied with a supervillain freely rampaging in his city where not even the ranking pro-heroes had been able to even touch him. It’s a multi-agencies problem that has the police department and greater Tokyo in an uproar, but none have been able to deal with it. Troublesome doesn’t begin to describe the dire situation of it.

So Isao’s boss is more than a little busy right now to deal with this domestic case.

“Uh,” Isao winces, “he’s out at moment, but maybe there’s something I can help you with,” he offers, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He tries not to be too pushy, because it takes a whole lot of guts and will to even be standing here o

“Useless,” he hears one of the kids murmur in brutal bluntness.

Isao’s eyes snap to the youngest girl who looks unrepentant at her word choice. She only continues to wear her scowl harder and he can feel her spite through her glare. “Akira,” Izuku snaps, and that’s all it takes for Akira to straighten up and tucks closer to her dam.

Izuku sighs. “I’m sorry, but it is extremely important that I talk to your captain because I have an important request for him,” he says, staring at Isao with determination set in his green eyes. “I would like for you to please arrest my husband and stop his crime spree.”

With dread digging its claw into him, Isao presses, “And who might your husband be?” Something tell him that this isn’t a simple domestic abuse case at all.

Izuku smiles. It’s brittle thing, but it cuts like the cold edge of a steel sword. “The man who is raising havoc across this city at this moment and has been eluding all your efforts to capture him – the villain Nine,” he answers somberly with an immeasurable strength that shake even as season veteran such like Isao himself. “Please help me stop him, so I can save my children and their future.” 

Chapter Text

As the officers corrals their latest batch of thwarted criminals into the police van, one of them pulls to a stop and turns to look back at them, eyeing Izuku up and down with a careful consideration.

“Deku,” Mercykill’s voice booms across the field, “my wife said that ginger help with morning sickness, so you should get on that shit, my man!”

Unperturbed, Izuku smiles and pats his still mostly flat stomach in gratitude. “Oh, thank for the advice!” he responds cheerfully as Katsuki’s left eye twitches in annoyance. “I’ll definitely try that next time.”

“Also, hey, just curious,” Mercykill says with a knowing grin, “but who’s your baby daddy? Is it Synergy? Because I got a hundred thousand yen riding on it.”

Izuku blinks as the question quickly catches the attention of everyone in the near vicinity—the cops, clean-up crew, and curious bystanders who all turns to look at Izuku like he got the answer to the most important question in the universe. Probably, it is to those noisy fuckers.

But because Izuku is a goddamn menace, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, he demurely dips his head and tells the man, “I couldn’t say.” It leaves everyone enchanted and ever more curious about the mysterious sperm donor to the no. 1 hero and omega in the world’s unborn child.   

Katsuki’s face twists into a snarl. “Get him the fuck out of here before I blow a hole in his head!” he threatens, feeling like he’s losing his fucking mind since the day Izuku had hunted him down, waxed some bullshit poetry about wanting a child, and wanting Katsuki’s sperm to make it happen. Katsuki was stupid enough to buy into that shit and now everyone is obsessed and invested with Izuku’s pregnancy and the identity of Izuku’s sperm donor. Fucking hell.

Chapter Text

Honor before glory, glory belongs to the unbeaten, and duty sits above all.

For House Midoriya there is nothing greater than to serve and no sacrifice is ever too big of price to pay at the feet of the Empire. And so Heir Izuku of the Midoriya is to be wed Crown Prince Katsuki before the stars fall.

“Do you understand, Izuku?” his father says to him after having revealed that Izuku would to be send offworld on an imperial carrier that would take him across the solar system and into the arms of his new betrothed. “This is an imperial edict handed down by the former Holy Empress. Your mother’s most enduring legacy is being the empress’ right-hand and confidant. She’d managed to secure your future hand in marriage to the Crown Prince solely based on that.” He looks wistful. “Inko was a woman of immeasurable talents, so do not waste her last gift to you,” his father urges.

“But what of my current engagement to Warlord Todoroki’s youngest son?” Izuku presses, his hands wrung in an anxious knot in front of him. Shouto. Oh, Shouto, he despairs.

“Forget him,” his father dismisses with a wave of his hand. “The engagement had been properly dissolved. A warlord is but the iron fist of the future emperor and you are bound for much greater things. Do let yourself be held by sentimental feelings.”

Izuku doesn’t say, but what of my wish, my promise to Shouto, or my heart’s desire, because the answer is already written all of his father’s grim and resolute face; it had already long been decided before his birth. “I understand, father,” he says solemnly. Duty above all, even in the sake of his own happiness.

“Good,” Father says, patting Izuku’s shoulder proudly. “You will leave in three sol days to the Luna Palace in Musutafu System. The Imperial Fleet will come and escort you there.”

Izuku blinks, taken back by such a rapid departure date. “That soon?” he asks warily. It leaves him no room to even mentally and emotionally to prepare himself to be torn away from everything he had ever known.

“Yes,” Father confirms with narrowed eyes, squeezing his shoulder in warning. “You’re not the first choice for the Conclave. There were many prince consort candidates that had come before you, but because of your mother and the former empress’ favor toward her, your position is guarantee. For now.” Father’s lips pressed into a thin line. “But that won’t stop the Greater Houses and their allies from interfering with your engagement. The Thousand Kingdoms have been a knife in their side for far too long and they would rather die than have one of our own sitting on the Red Throne.”

Despite being a part of the Empire since the founding, the Thousand Kingdom of the Minor Houses rules over a vast asteroid belt far from the reaches of the Red Throne and the Conclave that few actual imperial laws hold over them. They’re independent, willful, and worst—insubordinate, refusing to heel even under the might of the empire.

House Midoriya is one of the many kingdoms to rule over swat of the asteroid belt and for all their power and influence, the Core Worlds spurned them. They’re backwater region with a volatile temperament and Izuku, hailed from the very place that given birth to many uprising in the pasts, is to be the Prince Consort; the future Imperatrix to their Emperor.

It must burn to have that thrown in their arrogant, prejudice face.

Izuku swallows. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that either,” he admits softly. He may have been hand raised in the harsh cradle of the Thousand Kingdoms, learning the art of lies and wielding his smiles like the point end of a sword, but the Red Throne is far too heavy of a crown for him to bear; it’s lined with barbed wires.

His gaze drops to the floor, finding the ground suddenly extremely interesting. A hand grabs his chin and jerks it upward to force him to look directly into his father’s stern face. “You are my son, but even more than that you are your mother’s child.” He scowls. “Inko had proven that there’s more than one way to win wars. You don’t have to be strong, just smarter than everyone else and you, my son, are resourceful and ever so clever,” father says, tapping his forehead. “Use that brain of yours to move mountains and conquer hearts.”

Izuku frowns. “The prince,” he hesitates, letting a long exhale, “they call him the White Wolf; the Mad Hound of Musutafu.” Even in the Thousand Kingdoms, he’d heard enough strange and bloody rumors of his betrothed – how the madness of losing his family had consumed him and the wrath of his violent beastly temper, making him more of a beast than a man. More like the wolves of House Bakugou’s sigil.

Prince Katsuki is still young, his coming of age ceremony is only two sol cycles away ago and till then the Regent continues to exert power over the young prince and the empire, but nobody wants the prince to sit on the Red Throne. He’s too dangerous and unpredictable to sit idly on the throne. The stakes are too high to let him laid claim it when his time comes. Father is well aware of them and he’s willing to side with the Regent and sold his only son off to keep the prince from claiming his birthright.

But at what price.

“You cannot reason with animals,” Izuku continues, voice low and anxious. The bloody massacre in Mayri VI committed under Bakugou’s hands still shook the galaxy. “And I do not believe the prince has a heart to be conquered.”

Father shakes his head. “Animals can be tame.”

“But this one is known to be wild and mad,” Izuku points out.

“Our ancestors had domesticated wolves,” Father persists.

His brows rises incredulously. “Are you suggesting that I make him into my lap dog?”

“No, I’m telling you that it’s not impossible to turn to him to your side,” Father corrects. “If he doesn’t know love, teach him; if kindness is unfamiliar to him, show him; and if he hates you, than make him love you. Bend him to your will.”

“And then what?”

“Be his husband, his confidant, and everything he needs,” Father continues. “Make it so that he can’t live without you and when you have his utmost trust and loyalty, than he will be yours and so will everything else, my son.”

Izuku doesn’t flinch but it’s near thing. It’s a cruel but efficient plan.

Cunning, manipulative as it core strategy in order to not just survive but thrive in the court of Musutafu. Izuku must hold all his cards close and wield it sparingly. He smiles crookedly. “I just have to make him fall in love me, is that right?”

“Yes. Wed him and bed if you must, but do not give your heart over to him for the Bakugous are wolves and they will devour you the moment you surrender to them,” he warns with gravitas.

But you’re the one sending me into wolves’ den live to be among them, Izuku doesn’t say. “Yes, father,” he complies, lowering his head in deference. His hands clenched at his side in forceful grip. “I know what I have to do. Thank you for your advice.”

Father presses a kiss against his bowed head. “Make us proud, Izuku. Make the galaxy tremble under the name Midoriya.”

Later that night as Izuku curled up in his bed, feeling cold and empty. He bleakly looks up at the stars filled ceiling, a 3D holo replication of the galaxy brought into his bedroom that father had got for his twelve birthday to remind him of the all that could be his one day as long as he fulfilled his duty to his family and the empire.

He reaches a hand out and grips his inevitable future and thinks, no. The galaxy is too large and he’s just so, so very small, but it doesn’t mean he has to go quietly into the night.

One luna day later, Izuku sneaks his way onto a passenger ship set to leave Thousands Kingdoms behind so he can meet with Shouto on port station out in the outer rim to elope. After all it’s in his blood to rebel.

Chapter Text

Dragons were once thought as gods across the land. Legends spoke of how their footsteps would shake the ground wherever they'd tread, a beat of their wings was said to have cause windstorm to appear in the horizon, and their roars could call down lightning; they were indomitable beasts.

Katsuki’s people had dedicated more than a thousand year and generations of their blood, sweats, and tears to bring these great beasts to their heels. To be chosen by a dragon to be their soulkin is a special privilege reserve for the few—the strongest, smartest, and best people.

It's sacred. And not everyone can even touch a dragon, let alone—

“Who’s a good boy,” Izuku coos, rubbing his hands all over Kithura’s snout like he's an overly large and eager dog, and not at all like a holy beast of Katsuki's people. “The very best boy? You are, it’s you!”

Kithura lets out a pleased rumble, the end of his scaly tail swinging back and forth.

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose at the sight. This sickening, horrendous thing he's privy to. He should kill the both of them to save himself from this utterly embarrassing shitshow.

Laws and traditions are carved into the foundation of their society, but if Izuku not even going to bother respecting that shit how is Katsuki supposed to be rule over anything?! "Oi, get the fuck away from Deku, you stupid fat lizard," Katsuki snaps, temper fraying at the edge.

Izuku's hands startle to a stop and Kithura raises his overgrown head, snorting an offended fume out of his nose. Not fat, he grumbles, like that's more important than the stupid part. This is also somehow Izuku's fault too; his dragon didn't just turn into a lapdog overnight.

"Kacchan!" Izuku's face lights up at the sight of him angrily stomping his way toward them. "You're finish with the council meeting?"

Katsuki grunts in acknowledgement. "What the hell, Deku? He's not a damn pet." He gives Kithura a pointed look. Have some fucking dignity, he scolds.

Kithura just puffs out hot air and curls closer to Izuku in defiant of Katsuki's earlier rebuke.

"Oh, I know." Izuku smiles brightly. "Kit was just kindly keeping me company while I was waiting for you to be done." His smile widens even further. "I wanted to show Kit my appreciation."

Kithura grins down at him in the way that only a dragon can. Full of menacing teeth and bite, his jaw bigger than the size of Izuku's head but that doesn't stop Izuku from going soft and heart eyes at Katsuki's murderous fire breathing dragon who had crushed hundreds of his enemies’ skull under his foot.

"What," he says flatly with a twitch of his eye. "What the fuck you say?"

"I wanted to show Kit my appreciation?" Izuku repeats with a curious tilt to his voice. He bites down on lower lip unsurely. “Should I have not done that?”

"No," Katsuki snaps, right hand itching to reach for the sword his side so he can ram a hole into his own head, because seriously, the hell? "I meant, what the fuck did you just called my dragon?"

"Kit?" Izuku blinks. "Sorry, I just didn't want to accidentally butcher your partner's full name. It sounds beautiful when you say it, but I—I don’t think my tongue can bend that way." He scrunches up his face and then tilts his head up toward Kithura with woeful eyes. "But you don't mind being called Kit, do you?"

Kithura, that traitorous overgrown lizard, lowers his head and nuzzles Izuku's cheek appreciatively as Izuku once again idiotically coos at him like he's a demented puppy that Izuku had picked up from the road and not the horrorterror of the sky that everyone knows Kithura as.

Katsuki had spent his twelve summer out in the red desert battling for his very life against the searing heat, carnivorous cactus, and even the fucking sand was out to kill him. All of it so he could find a damn dragon that would speak to his soul and hear its cry; his soulkin.

He had fucking bled and fought his way to a giant slab of sandstone hilltop where he'd met him, napping leisurely under the glaring sun. With scales the color of a sunset, a mulish blend of red and orange, he was breathtaking and Katsuki had wanted him. His soul called out to the winged beast on top of the butte.

It took Katsuki nine days. Nine fucking awful days of fighting for his life and future to claim this wondrous beast as his own and have the honor name him. Once the beast had fallen and lowered his head before Katsuki in submission, he’d bestowed his title to him; Aku'kithuramulea.

In ancient Selvine, a tongue that had long lost its meaning to the outside world except here in brutal the brutal landscape, it translate to: the Unconquerable King of the Red Dunes. A fearsome and grand name to go along with a fearsome beast. A name that no one else but Katsuki had rightfully earned the privilege to give.

Names are power. It's ownership and subjugation.

Early on, Katsuki had shortened it to Kithura because even he's not an idiot to try to shove that mouthful pass his lips daily. Kithura is at least more dignified than some childish pet name Kit. But now his own fucking dragon had let someone else renamed him.

Katsuki glares at Izuku. "You can't go around giving nickname to people's dragon! That's disrespectful to the warriors who had bled for that honor," he bites out viciously. He turns toward Kithura meaningfully and glares. "And you! Don't let others renamed you just for shit and giggles. Where’s your goddamn pride as a holy beast?”

Izuku's face falls. "Oh," he says, voice small and crushing. His eyes drop down to his lap, hands anxiously clench and unclench in front of him. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know."

For a sharp, brief second Katsuki feels a stab of guilt hitting his conscience. And it hurts.

He doesn't have time to dwell on that thought for long because Kithura quickly removes himself from Izuku's person to shove his scaly head up at Katsku's face. Kithura's gold eyes narrows in reproach as his wings flares out and the air around them is charged with danger and a steady building anger.

No, no, he insists loudly in Katsuki's head. Be nice. Stupid little king. Deku is future hatchmother of little king's younglings, he huffs in annoyance like Katsuki is somehow in the wrong here. Now, he won't hatch eggs for little king anymore. Because little king is mean.

Katsuki nearly snap his neck looking at Izuku's puzzled but curious expression as he watches their one sided exchange before he turns toward Kithura in horror. "That's not how the human's body works! Does that large skull of yours only contain air or fucking what?!" he says, outrage thick deep in his voice.

Kithura sulks. Big brain, Kit has.

"Not your name," Katsuki snaps reflexively, but Kithura is already plowing on ahead anyway, won't be stop by anything once he got some ridiculous idea in his head.

I know. I am your soul, little king, Kithura tells him. But Deku is your heartsong. You want to mount him. To put your seeds in him.

Katsuki's face flames up as murderous rage sets in. This fucking dragon is going to be the death of him. He swears. “I-“ He resists flailing his arms around to deny it, because he’s not stooping to childish level. “I do not want,” he lowers his voice to an almost embarrassed mumble as he flickers his eyes toward Izuku’s expectance but puzzled face, “want to put my seeds in him.”

Why not? Little king needs a queen, Kithura insists sternly. Deku is great mate. He's kind. Clever. Loyal. Heartstrong. And more importantly, got that youngbearing hips. Will bear you many young ones. A full nest of them for Kit to play with. He looks on proudly down at Izuku as Izuku smiles ignorantly in respond. That fool.

Katsuki drops his face into his hands and groans.  

You'd chosen good, little king, Kit continues to prattle on proudly. There will many young broods in your future. Deku will breed well for your kingdom.

“Kacchan?" Izuku asks amidst the terse exchange between him and his dragon that he wasn’t mostly privy to. "Are you okay?"

Thank fucking stars for that because then he has to kill Izuku and then himself to save them all from the utter humiliation of having to explain the fucking garbage that came out of Kithura's brainless head. But apparently he's not done, because Katsuki hears Kithura rumble and moving his hulking body around.

He removes his hand from his face just in time to see Kithura snuggles up to Izuku again as Izuku looks upon him dotingly. “Would you like some snacks?” he asks like a total dumbass. Ugh. “I think I may have something for you.”

Little queen, hatch many eggs, ok, Kithura implores to him as Izuku turns around and rumbles through his leather satchel.

That’s it. Katsuki has enough.

"I'm going to kill you, you fucking dumb lizard," Katsuki declares, reaching for his sword. Soulbond be damned.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s head is a noisy and terrible place, full of horrible things that can’t be put down with a swift kick. They’re formless and nameless entities who’d taken root in his chest, digging their claws into his heart and twisting it into something ugly and awful with their poisonous words. Letting anxiety and fear grew and festered like a weed inside of him, they gave rise to doubt and turned it so sharply inward that every time he breathe it cuts at him like jagged edges.

They tell him terrible lies and fill his head with so much discordance that it drowned out his own thoughts.

It gets so loud and cluttered in his head sometimes that the only way to silence it is to make it hurt. To throw his body onto the pyre and let the agony and burn distract him from all the clamor inside Izuku’s head. Only then does the noise finally go static and muted.

Merciful peace at last. He’d chased after that pain like it’s his only remedy.

But it’s not though.

Something hot and firm clamps down hard on his wrist that he feels it down to his very bones. “Deku,” a familiar voice breaks through the cacophony in his head. “Look at me.”

Izuku blinks. He is looking.

His eyes are wide open and his vision is clear, he's— “Not the floor, stupid.” An unimpressed scold, but not unkind. “At me, look up.” Izuku blinks again. And jerks his head up, following the clear, concise direction of that cutting voice. Better than any brief relief he could seek.

His eyes snap to a furious, scowling face of Katsuki in front of him. “You with me, nerd?” he demands.

Izuku nods slowly as though he has to mull over it, turn the words inside out like it’s spoken in a foreign language he has to decipher. Maybe it is, and he’s just too stupid to figure it out.

Katsuki squeezes his wrist. Once. Twice, his nails digging into Izuku’s flesh. “Use your words,” he orders. Definite, simple instruction made to be follow through and it’s just enough to yank Izuku right out of his sea of anxiety. His body complies. Submits to Katsuki’s instruction.

His head is still muddle and fuzzy, but Katsuki’s words are unrelenting as it cuts through all the static noise clogging him up till all he hears and knows is the low hum of Katsuki’s voice. Izuku swallows, licking his lips and trying to get his throat to work. “Y-yea, I’m here, Kacchan.”

And just like that the axis of Izuku’s world shifts and reorients itself to Katsuki’s firm, commanding tone and the grip of his hand on Izuku’s wrist grounds him in place like they’d many times before. “You weren’t thinking of anything dumb, right?” He gives Izuku a sharp look.

“No,” Izuku lies instinctively, and when Katsuki’s eyes narrowed at him, he quickly amends it, “Just a little?”

“Is that supposed to be a question,” he says dryly.

Izuku turns his head away, eyes falling somewhere in the distance as his free hand twitches at his side. “Sometimes, I just get stuck in my own head, but you know that,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing for you to concern about. I’m fine.”

A hand forcibly grips his chin and drags it back toward Katsuki’s direction once more. “Hey, look at me when you’re talking,” he snaps. Commands.  "And yea, you’re fine, because I won’t let you work your brain into a tight coil over nothing.“ He scoffs, dropping Izuku’s chin. "Don’t overthink this shit. Let me be the one to worry about it.”

Izuku sucks in deep breath, letting Katsuki’s affirming words wash over him, anchor him in place against the rough sea of his anxiety.

Katsuki’s arrogant, prideful, and domineering; he demands absolutely and gives nothing back. Even when they were children, Katsuki has always been pushing Izuku around and taking command of Izuku’s attention, affection, and loyalty as if it was birthright. And maybe it is.

Back then it was just easier to let Katsuki take over and boss him around because Katsuki knew best, right? There was nobody smarter, brighter, and stronger than Katsuki and so Izuku went wherever Katsuki led and obeyed his words like it’s a commandment he couldn’t break. Doesn’t want to break.

Izuku is much older and stronger now, confidence haphazardly thrown over him, but still the same boy who sometimes found himself on uneven footing, unsure of his place as doubt and insecurities sway him from side to side till he’s tripping over himself with no guidance in hand.

This time, though, when Katsuki would take his choice from him it’s not a mean-spirited game anymore, but a way to free Izuku of his own responsibilities, lifting the burden off his weary shoulders, because he would bear all of Izuku’s load.

It wouldn’t be just his fight; it would be Katsuki’s also and that’s the difference.

He looks up and meets Katsuki’s glare. “No more thinking, huh?” he muses, giving in to Katsuki at last. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad now.” His wrist goes limp in Katsuki’s grip as he sways closer to Katsuki as though he’d been taught and train to need Katsuki’s steady assurance.

Or, maybe, he’d always been wired that way. Differently. Wrong. To seek comfort under firm hands and an unforgiving gaze. To yield to another so that he wouldn’t stray off course and hurt himself, because he knows without a shadow of doubt that Katsuki would find him and put him in his place once more.

Katsuki abruptly releases his hold on Izuku’s wrist, leaving him gasping for something, anything to can keep him grounded, but then he wraps his arms around him. He yanks Izuku in till he’s all but collapse against Katsuki’s chest and holds him securely in the prison of his embrace.

“I’ll take care of everything.” He grunts into Izuku’s hair. “Take care of you, so stop worrying over unnecessary shit. It’ll be okay.”

With a fist full of Katsuki’s shirt, Izuku shudders violently against him and just let go. Completely surrender to this unforgiving man who wields Izuku’s submission completely.

Chapter Text

There’s a loud and insistent hammering at his door. It’s the middle of the night, just past eleven and Izuku doesn’t have that many people in his social circle to expect any kind of unexpected midnight visitor.  

He sighs long-sufferingly as he slowly climbs out of his self-made nest of pillows and blankets that he had been cocooning with his cat on this chilly autumn night, the TV continuing to drone on in the background. Fluffybottom hops off the couch and trails after him languidly as they make their way to the door.

“Who you think it is, Fluffybottom-sama?” he muses, tugging at his oversized sweater. He can already feel the cold settling under his clothes and brushing against his skin.

Fluffybottom meows in answer, tail waving in the air. “Yea, you’re right I should just find out myself,” Izuku replies, approaching his front door.

The knocking gets more forceful with each passing second as he unlocks it. He opens the door to cold air and biting winds, the light from inside his home filtering through the doorway and in that moment he catches sight of a startlingly familiar red eyes glowering at him. Instinctively, Izuku slams the door right in Bakugou Katsuki’s face.

He quickly locks it and slides to the floor in shock, legs all splayed out uselessly. Fluffybottom paws at him anxiously beside him and he hauls him into his lap, burying his face into Fluffybottom’s soft grey fur.

"Deku!” Katsuki hollers through the door like his worst nightmare had just come true. “Open the fucking door! I know you’re in there!”

Izuku groans into Fluffybottom’s back, arms around his cat like a lifeline. The last person he’d least expected to see after all this years is beyond that door right now and he’s absolutely terrified. With heart racing a mile a minute and his hands won’t stop trembling, he knows this has to be real.

Even Fluffybottom keeps himself quiet and still for once in Izuku’s arms as though he understands Izuku’s plight. “What do I do, Fluffybottom-sama?” he asks his cat. His single gold eye peers at Izuku and he mews, unimpressed against the continuous banging of the door.

“Why he is here?” he murmurs, brows furrowing with curiosity and dread. “He should be in Kyoto right now for his tour.” Did something happen? Was he hurt? And why does it even matter to Izuku now? Bakugou Katsuki has nothing to do with him anymore.

Fluffybottom eyes him blankly before his ears swivels forward and head turns toward the living room area.

The audio from the TV they were watching earlier drifts to his ears, where he can still clearly make sound of a person speaking, and it picks up a shocking news: “—megastar rock god Bakugou Katsuki have been declared missing by official authorities as of today since 3:35PM.”

Izuku blinks, eyes wide as he tilts his head back to look at the door warily.

“Deku,” he hears Katsuki says. “Let me in.” A pointed beat. “Please.” He sounds desperate. Urgent even, like a man lost in the desert who had found his oasis at last but it’s just out of his grasp. “I’m freezing my fucking balls out here.”

Despite his hesitance and wrecked nerves, Izuku cracks a smile because even with the seven years apart this Katsuki still sounds like his Katsuki. Voice deeper and huskier, but still the same familiar cadence.

All of it is so nostalgic and bleeds over the cracks of his heart. He thinks it would be so easy to turn Katsuki away, but when did he ever do anything that smart for himself? Not when he’d ran away with Katsuki at eighteen despite their parents’ protests, chasing a dream of music and fame in Tokyo with a promise to always stay by Katsuki’s side before Katsuki decided discard him like trash by the road two years later.

He doesn’t have to do anything for Katsuki anymore. That part of his life is over now. Even if Katskui crawl on his knees before him, Izuku owe him nothing. Nothing at all. But—Katsuki had come to him personally for a reason so he should here him out at least, right? It’s only fair. Because Izuku has always been weak for Katsuki.

That’s how he’d lost his heart in the first place all those years ago.  

He gingerly gets up from the floor with Fluffybottom tucked close against his chest and he breathes, shakily and with apprehension as he unhooks the lock. Katsuki must have heard it, but instead of barging his way in, he waits for Izuku’s next move and so he does.

He opens the door once more to the man who walked out of Izuku’s life and all over his heart at twenty to chase after his dream. The hottest star of the musical world, who’d been taking the nation hostage with his soulful songs and voice, Bakugou Katsuki; Izuku’s ex-boyfriend, the man he’d loved and regretfully still does. 

Chapter Text

“Um.” Izuku stares down at his hand.

A deep red streak runs across it, blood pooling around the open wound. It’s just a cut. A meaninglessness cut of all things and normally, this isn’t a problem but, unfortunately, he doesn’t exactly fall under the purview of that harmless word.

There’s a flurry of panicked activity around him. Someone presses a clean towel into his injured palm, another picks up the dropped knife from the floor, and the rest hover anxiously around him. Izuku is the clumsy fool, but his club mates are now bearing the consequence of his folly.

The bleeding doesn’t stop even when the kitchen towel is drowned in a pool of Izuku’s own blood. Someone hand him another fresh towel, but it won’t be long before that too would be soaked through inch by inch like a band aid placed over the crack of a dam; a valiant but ultimately foolish attempt.

It won’t hold.

It’s a shallow cut, but Izuku is bred to bleed easily and heavily like an untapped spring of blood; he’s blood doll born for this single purpose, to bleed and feed his, well, to dedicate his entire being to Bakugou Katsuki. Katsuki protects him from other feeders, and Izuku gives himself to Katsuki only. It’s a covenant of their ancestors, several hundred years in the making; one neither of them have any hope of breaking.

Even if it’s an accident, this is a waste of resource. His mother would lecture him for being so careless with his body, when it’s used to keep these bloody beasts tame.

Since young, he was taught under the tutelage of his mother, the kin of the Head of the Bakugou Clan, that single drop of his blood can’t leave his body lest it’s for Young Master Katsuki and Katsuki only. His blood is precious and a traded commodity. It’s Izuku’s own personal weapon and if he knows how to wield carefully, it can move mountains and even sway the devil.

And this, he flexes his injured palm as blood continues seep through another towel already, is why it is so valuable. Not that Izuku would know because he’s failed blood doll. Katsuki hadn’t fed from him since the first bloodshedding many years ago, refusing to feed from Izuku and only him and leaving Izuku more than a little hurt and confused.

“Hurry and clean up all the blood already!” Uemura Riko, the Cooking Club President, instructs her members with a snappish tone, looking frazzled despite her usual calm demeanor. “Someone get me a first aid kit now! We don’t want an angry mob of vamps knocking through our door.”

Izuku frowns, looking up from his hand. “Kacchan isn’t a mob.”

Uemera gives him a look. “Your leech is equal to ten angry mob. I don’t want the heir to one of the last pureblood vampire clans to be breathing down my neck because you slipped and accidentally cut your hand.”

When she put it like that it sounds reasonable enough, but it’s already too late for them.

They say a shark can scent a drop of blood in the ocean from miles away; it’s a myth, but he knows another and more terrifying animal that can do that and more. Katsuki may hate the taste of Izuku, but Izuku is his kin and he will answer the blood call.

Always.

Izuku knows this. He knows Katsuki even before he hear the pounding of his footsteps and the door is violently flung open; it hinges giving under to the force of his palpable anger. Now, standing in the doorway in all his infuriating glory is Bakugou Katsuki.

Blood-red eyes sets alight like twin flames in front of them. “Deku,” says Katsuki, a low guttural noise that sounds like a half-mad and starving beast. He strides in silence and careful like he’s stalking a prey. His piercing red eyes zeroes in on Izuku’s bloody hand right away.

Everyone in the room takes several anxious steps back and huddle together, making themselves small and unobtrusive lest they attract the attention of the beast in their midst. The terror radiates off of them in waves as they try to subdue their quiet panic.

Not that it could do much because Katsuki could easily scent their terror.

For the last couple of centuries, vampires have been a known entity in this world and integrated into society, but there’s something wild and fantastical about them that keeps them apart. Perhaps it’s the superior senses and abilities or their strange haunting beauty, but there is real fear nestle under the country’s carefully protected laws. It’s human’s nature to be afraid of the unknown, but what does it say about Izuku who feels a different kind of pulsing heartbeat for Katsuki?

Izuku, a walking and breathing vampire’s bloodbag, just gives a short, sheepish little wave with uninjured hand. “H-hi, Kacchan,” he says, wincing. He’s in so much trouble.

“Deku,” Katsuki says again pointedly, marching toward him with his fangs flashing menacingly. Power and threat embody each step he takes like a true king in the making.

Izuku feels all the blood reversing course from his palm to his head, flooding his cheeks as his heart pounds to a deafening beat. This is not fear, he knows. Izuku was raised in the cradled of these beautiful beasts and had learned since young to embrace their bloodlust.

It’s something else.

Something far deadlier than fear. It coils around his heart, pricking at him every time when Katsuki ignore him and won’t partake in feeding on him, telling him that Izuku is neither worthy of his time or attention and his blood driving Katsuki away in disgust.

“You fucking idiot!” Katsuki hisses, standing before him with barely controlled fury. “I only left you alone for an hour and here you are tempting all the other bloodsuckers in a ten-mile radius to feed on you and suck you dry!”

Izuku blinks, taken back for a moment. “Does that include you?” he asks hopefully. Oh, how I want to be eaten by Kacchan, so says the stupid lamb to the lion.

Chapter Text

"Where's no. 3?!" Katsuki demands, storming into the front office of Yavin Elementary.

"G-Ground Zero?" the receptionist squeaks, hand clutching her chest as though she's in a heartattack.

"Midoriya Hikaru," Katsuki snaps, stomping his way toward her. "Where the fuck is he?"

"I—we," she leans back in a little and breathes, "r-requested to talk Midoriya-san about Hikaru, sir," she says, attempting to regather her bearings once more.

"He's busy right now," Katsuki asserts, frowning, "so I'm here in his stead. Tell me what the problem is then."

"We would prefer to talk to a parental unit instead," she insists, steeling herself in the face of Katsuki's thinning impatient.

Katsuki glowers. "I'm his fucking guardian," he bites out. "The brat lives under my roof, shit in my toilet, chow down on my food, and hog my TV, so as far as I'm fucking concern he's as much mine as Deku’s!,” he finishes with a snarl.

"Um," she says, blinking hard.

Katsuki drags his face down his hand and sighs. "Look, you can just over your paperwork and see that I'm listed as one of the emergency contacts for him. Or,” he gives her a pointed glare, “you can talk to my fucking lawyers."

"I—I'll double check right away, sir," she says hurriedly, turning to her computer. Several minutes pass by as Katsuki waits with a growing agitation for her to confirm what he already knows. Thank fucking shit, he'd actually listened to Deku about getting listed on the kids’ emergency cards.

They're a fucking menace, so he should have known something would happen, but he'd given them at least a month, not a week into the new school year, that he would get that call. And for it to be Hikaru of all people and not his twin or eldest sister. That's the fucking shocking part.

"Zero-san?" the receptionist calls out to him. "I apologize for earlier. You're indeed correct, your name is listed as emergency contact for Hikaru," she says, picking up the office phone nearby. "I'll go ahead and call Okaye-sensei to let her know to bring Hikaru up right away."

And that take even longer several minutes, causing him to start pacing a hole in the floor with his rapidly depleting patience. Fucking hell.

He hears the click of heels and the slow familiar gait of Hikaru approaching from a distant before he even saw them. It makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Zero-san?" Okaye says, walking into the office with Hikaru's small hunched figure in tow. From the tilt in her voice she's as much as surprise of his appearance here as the receptionist was earlier. "I was honestly expecting Midoriya-san instead."

"He's not here right now, so you're stuck with me," Katsuki says dismissively, his only focus is the brat next to her. "No. 3?" He drops down on to the floor on one knee and opens his arms to Hikaru. "What the fuck happen to you, huh?"

Okaye frowns at his choice of language, but Hikaru quickly lights up at the sound of his voice and breaks away from her side to fall into his arms. "Kacchan," he wails, sniffing into Katsuki's shoulder.

"Hikaru got into a fight with another student from his class," she explains slowly.

Katsuki pauses, pushing him back to look at him over. He eyes Hikaru from head to toe, noticing the bruises running up both arms and the split lip on his kid. "Okay, tell me this at least: did you win and kick that other kid's ass?" he asks gravely, completely serious.

"Zero-san!" Okaye gasps in outrage.

Hikaru nods, gripping the sleeve of Katsuki's shirt in his bruised fist. Katsuki grins and reaches over to wipe away the tear tracks on Hikaru's wet cheeks. "Good, I knew you had it in you, No. 3," he says, pride thickening his voice as ruffles Hikaru's tangled mess of green hair.

"That's extremely improper," she argues. "We don't endorse that kind of behavior here."

"Yea?" he says, shooting a glare over Hikaru's shoulders toward Okaye. "Well, I didn't spent hours teaching my brat to fight back so he can let some snot nose little twat beat up him while you all watched and do absolute shit."

Okaye frowns. "Our academy does not condone bullying. We do our best to stop it before it happen."

"Then what do you call this?" Katsuki demands, carefully gripping Hikaru's shoulder and spins him around to show her the blotches of purple and blue on him. "I know No. 3. He's a good kid, he wouldn't start a fight but he'll finish them." He squeezes Hikaru's shoulder in reassurance. "You're lucky we even let him enrolled at this subpar academy, because you certainly don't know how to fucking take care of my kid properly."

Okaye goes red in the face. "That-that's such a baseless accusation! We take the utmost care of the all children at our academy, Hikaru included." She huffs, crossing her arms across her chest. "And besides Hikaru was the one who threw the first punch."

With a brow raised, Katsuki asks Hikaru, "Did you really?" Hikaru tilts his head back to look at him and nods again as he bites down on his lip. Understanding, right away, Katsuki continues to push, "What did that little shit do to you to make you wanna punch him?"

Hikaru looks down at his feet. He doesn't speak, so Katsuki waits, letting Hikaru decide when he's ready to talk or if he want to talk at all. Finally, Hikaru steps away from him, breaking contact only to turn around to face him properly with a dour expression on his face.

"H-he said I was the son of the devil," Hikaru mumbles, hands clenching by his side. "And that Papa was a bad person. A bad omega who mated with a villain and we, kids, were just as bad." Katsuki narrow his eyes as each devastating words pass Hikaru’s lips. “It made mad. I didn’t like the way he’d talked about Papa, Aki and Yuko-niichan like that,” he quietly admits.

"I hope you got more than a punch in on that kid," Katsuki says with every bit of sincerity that he can carry. "Because I would have pummeled him into the fucking ground and beat some more senses into him."

Okaye makes a noise of protest. "Zero-san, we don't—"

Katsuki's eyes flash to her with a hostile glare. "Shut your mouth, I don't want to hear any more of your bullshit excuses," he snarls. "Right now, I'm talking to my kid, so don't fucking interrupt us."

She reels back, face drawn tight in defense, but she wisely chooses to hold her tongue lest she test the infamous temper of Japan’s number one Pro-Hero Ground Zero that had landed more than one villain in the intensive care.

Katsuki turns his attention back to the more important matter at hand. Hikaru's shoulders are hunched over and his eyes are wary with hesitance. Ever since some rat ass bastard managed to leak the kids' face and names to the media, publicly linking them to the trashcan who donated the other half of their DNA, Izuku had been afraid of this moment. He didn’t want the brats to be exposed to the hostile reality of being the spawn of a villain and what the world thought about that.

Katsuki wasn't worry. Not really, he knows Yuko and Akira. They'll be fine.

It's Hikaru he is more careful about. He's too soft, too sweet, and too hurt easily for that kind of stigma he’ll have to live with when people eventually found out that his piece of trash other parent is a mastermind criminal, who'd menaced society for the last decade; the deathtoll number in hundreds, but those affected by his crimes are thousands.

Adults naturally shitty human being, but children can be way worst with their ignorance and youth. Katsuki would know, he was one himself before UA beat it out of him and made him better for it. "You want me to have a little talk with the twerp?" Katsuki muses, fingers flexing.

Teaching troublesome brats is way beneath his paygrade, but he’ll make an exception for Hikaru and only Hikaru; he can count on Hikaru’s sisters having no problem resolving their own issues. Yuko is a goddamn terror, and Akira can easily wipe the floor with kids who are even older than her.

Hikaru shakes his head. "I don't like fighting," he says quietly. "I just wanted him to stop saying mean things about Papa and my sisters." He looks earnestly at Katsuki as something akin to fear flash across his face. "Do you think Papa will be mad at me?" He wrings his hands anxiously in front of him.

Katsuki thinks of Izuku on that specific day: standing tall, shoulders straight, and with his kids huddled closely around him as he watched his alpha, husband, the father of his children, getting drag away in quirk suppression collar and cuffs. He didn't look away. Not one bit.

It took more than fucking guts to turn his back to his mate of over a decade and reported him to the authority for being a sack of villainous shit. Especially, when there were three children still under his care to think about, but he did it without a single drop of hesitation. He didn’t regret it at all.

It was stone fucking cold.

Even with all the heroes around them, even with Katsuki there, it didn't take much for Katsuki to clearly see how Izuku was easily the strongest and bravest soul there. Omega and quirkless, they were all just a footnote to Izuku's character. They did not define him. Not then, not now, and never will.

Katsuki smirks, leaning down to pinch Hikaru's cheek who puffs up his cheek indignantly. It’s cute as hell. "Disappointed sure, but mad? Nah," he says. "That would make him a fucking hypocrite otherwise. Didn't you know when he was younger Deku used to get into all sort of trouble and fight."

Hikaru's eyes widen. "He did?!"

"Yea," Katsuki's lip twitch in amusement, "you're a shit stirrer like you're good old Papa. And," he reaches for Hikaru's hand, "even if that wasn't the case, I got your back. The world could be against you and I'll still stand by your side."

Hikaru's face crunches up as though he's in pain. "K-Kaaaaaachan," he wails, but this time it's a river of happy tears as he slams his small body right up against Katsuki's legs and wraps his arm around him. "Y-You," hiccups, "mean it?"

"Yea, I wouldn't bullshit you, brat." Rolling his eyes as Hikaru happily sobs into his pant legs, Katsuki comments, "God, you're a crier just like Deku, alright.” But there's no bite to it as he pats Hikaru's back consolingly. He’s not Deku who can easily comfort the brats from nightmares and scary things that bump in the night, but if they need someone to protect them from the brutality of the world? They have Katsuki’s fists to protect them.

He casts an askance glance at Okaye. "I'll be taking him home early for the day," he tells her point blank.

Okaye actually has the audacity to look relief as though his brat was the problem in the first place. "I think that is a wise decision to make, Zero-san."

Katsuki pulls Hikaru back enough to lean down and hitches his hands underneath the boy's armpits. He lifts Hikaru up and hikes him over his hip. "Let's go get you some ice cream, but don't tell your Papa about it," he says.

Hikaru tucks a small smile in Katsuki's chest.

Just as they about to depart and Okaye is finally free of them at last, probably wishing she took a leave of absent today, they hear loud footsteps hitting the floor beyond the walls of the office. It's so loud that even Hikaru raises his head from Katsuki's chest in interest.

"Akira, you can't go in there!" someone loudly protest from outside. "Wait until Okaye-sensei is done talking and she'll call you in."

"You’ve been saying that for the last ten minutes. I'm not waiting around anymore!" a familiar voice argues back. "Let me see my brother!"

The back door to the front office is flung open to reveal a young girl who looks like an exact copy of Hikaru, except for the green insolent eyes and razor sharp tongue, and a taller tired adult trailing behind her.

Katsuki lets out a long exhale as Akira strolls in unprompted. Here is the real troublemaker. His small tyrant.

"Hikaru!" she says as soon her eyes zeroing in her brother right away, not even acknowledging Katsuki who has him in his arms. "I was so worried about you!"

"Aki," Hikaru returns excitedly back.

"Are you alright?" she coos, walking up to them. "Let me have a good look at you."

Katsuki gently lets Hikaru down and places him right in front of Akira. She immediately jumps on him as soon as his feet hit the floor, carefully looking over every cut and bruise she found on her brother, while happily ignoring Katsuki like he's just a rock on the road. He’s not even surprise at her insolent. Yuko is cooly polite, while Akira is so foul mouth and crass that sometimes he has a hard time thinking how Izuku managed to produce her, but her green eyes and hair are all Izuku’s.

Then, he remembers why she’s exactly like this.

"I'm sorry, Okaye-sensei," the woman who came with Akira says. "I tried to stop her but she was, very," she makes a pained face, "insistent."

Okaye heaves a sigh in acknowledgement. "Akira," she says warily the latest troublemaker. "Please refrain from breaking the school's property and causing a disturbance on the school grounds."

"Y'all rich as hell, so you'll be fine," she answers dismissively, not even looking back at her. Or at Katsuki either.

Here’s the thing: Midoriya Akira is self-proclaimed Ground Zero’s number one fan. She’d watched all his videos, tune into all his battles, and had all his merch. She absolutely adores him and tries her best to imitate her idol Ground Zero, but it’s a different story when Zero’s mask is removed and Katsuki is the one standing in front of her.

Okaye cuts to Katsuki with a drained expression on her face. "This child," she mumbles under her breath in pure annoyance and exhaustion, giving over to Katsuki to handle her now.

Katsuki grabs a hold of Hikaru's arm and pulls him back from Akira's attentive care. It's enough to finally catch her attention as her green eyes narrow and flashes toward him with open derision. He drags Hikaru close him as a hostage and prepares for the bloody battle ahead.

"What are you doing here, No. 2?" Katsuki demands with suspicion. "You should be in class."

"What the hell are you doing here, Kacchan? You should be out patrolling," Akira retorts back, and when he just glares at her, she scoffs before raising her bruised knuckles proudly.

"She kick started a brawl in the middle of the classroom and got the entire class involve,” the woman behind Akira answers for her, entirely too weary and vexed—which is the norm when dealing with Midoriya Akira. She’s abrasive and prickly as porcupine, but only those that are close to her does she soften up. “Several students had to be sent to the infirmary afterward.”

"I had to prove my dominance at the top of the pack," Akira announces proudly, who has none of Izuku's sweet temperament but all of his reckless diehard attitude that had sent more than one alpha packing with their tail behind their back. "Now, they won't bother Hikaru anymore."

Feeling a headache coming on, Katsuki glares at Akira. "What the hell, No. 2?" he demands. "Deku is going to flip his shit when not just one of his fucking brats got into a fight but two? And you even pick a fight with your entire class for that matter?!"

Akira pouts. “But you told me that if I want to protect my family I have to be strong, stronger than everyone else so that nobody can hurt them anymore,” she says sulkily. “I had to assert my power somehow!”

“I didn’t mean that you should start a one man war against everyone!” Katsuki snaps, exasperated. Akira got all that bravado, but none of that keen intellect of her older sister, Yuko.

Akira, whose bulldogged nature is more akin to Katsuki because blood be damned, that occasionally he forget whose daughter she actually is, but it's time like this when her eyes start to water and her lips wobble precariously, hands trembling at her side as the dam break, that he’s reminded how like Izuku she truly is.

"I-I didn't do anything wrong," she insists doggedly with eyes leaking a goddamn waterfall because she inherit Izuku's fucking cursed tears.

"Ah, fuck," Katsuki says warily. "Don't cry, No. 2."

"I'm not crying!" she yells back as another tear track rolls down her cheek.

Unlike Hikaru who openly cried like he's vomiting his emotions all over the place until he's emptied out, Akira is much more tightly wound up as though she's a densely packed ordnance that can go off at any moment and when she explode, everything give away to anger and hurt.

Katsuki sighs, dragging his hand down his face. He's trained professional who not only kick criminals' ass on regular basis but deal with plenty of crises. Hell, he'd even saved the country a few times in the past years or so but this—? Hardest fucking thing ever. Nothing can prepare him for the trial and tribulations of parenthood.

He doesn't know how Izuku does this on a regular basis especially when he's wrangling all these kids alone without any help from his dirtbag ex-husband and still managed to pull it all off like a true champion. A damn boss. Izuku can put Katsuki and his colleagues to fucking shame. Because this feel like disaster management 101 and he's failing spectacularly at it with the way the brats' teachers are looking at him like he's a giant disappointment because he's the asshole who made his kid cry in public.

"Akira," Hikaru says worriedly, stepping forward.

The line of his shoulders dips as his head bends low and Katsuki knows the sign well enough. They're twin. Creepily in sync and deeply emphatic of each other's pain. One crying kid is enough, but two? At the same time too? That’s fucking insane. He’ll leave that to Izuku.

Katsuki moves quickly to grab Hikaru by the shoulder and sets him in place. “Stay,” he orders, and without looking back, walks up to a sulking teary eyes Akira who looks like she would bite his head off if he get any closer.

"What you want," she snaps, sniffling hard.

Wordlessly, he drops down to her level. It's an even playing field here. Katsuki may know shit about kids overall but he knows his brats and Akira hates being patronize. He would know because she's like him in a lot of ways.

He extends a hand toward her; a peace offering.

She glares at the gesture like she can burn a whole in it. She doesn't move. Doesn't even respond to it, but he waits anyway. Katsuki doesn't have a lot of patience for anyone else but for Izuku and the brats, he'd learned it the hard way. In a series of trail and errors.

A minute pass by. Then two. Three. Four. Five, and then Akira's wall of defiance and anger softens just slightly enough for her to gingerly take his hand and he pulls her right into his chest, arms wrapping around her in forceful hug that leaves her no room to change her mind.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against her ear. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. That was mean of me.”

She snorts. “I don’t care,” she tells him, dropping her head on to his shoulder as her hand tightens around the front of his shirt that says otherwise. “It was your ugly face that made me cried anyway.”

He doesn’t laugh, because he doesn’t want her to punch him, but it’s a near thing. Kids, they’re going to be the death of him. Thrice over.

Chapter Text

Bakugou Katsuki is eighteen years old and is about to graduate in a few of months on a stellar academic and battle record, with a sea of offers from various hero agencies lining up for him to join them afterward. His future is bright, burning with a forward trajectory, but then he heads home for a break and it all goes batshit.

As soon as he steps a foot into his home, his mother shoves a screaming toddler into his arms. "Her name is Kasumi," she tells him with a glare, "and she's yours. Be careful. Don’t drop her."

Katsuki freezes with the child – his baby, what the fuck – in his arms and almost drop her.

He stares in horror at the living and breathing thing in his grip, who just won't stop crying. He sees her blond hair, the fierceness of her tantrum, and the way her tiny clenched hands hit his chest as she fights against his hold, there is no a doubt in his mind that she is his. It’s all wrapped up in her scent; burnt sugar and everglades.

Then she turns her tearful eyes at him and it's green. That same fucking shade of green that had haunted him nearly all his life, and he knows, he knows what a fucking mistake he'd made and the reason for her presence here, because this is all his fault.

Fucking Deku.

There only ever been one person, one omega who makes him all twisted up inside, who fucked him up like nobody else. Midoriya Izuku has been the bane of Katsuki's life since he’d took first sniff of him and he isn’t even here right now, but Katsuki can feel his presence contained in this small existent in his arms.

"Where is he?" Katsuki demands, holding the baby away from his person like she's an infectious diseased. "Where's Deku?!"

His mother levels an unimpressed look at him as she takes Kasumi back from him. "He's gone. Five days ago he came to the house and left as soon as he'd dropped Kasumi-chan off with us."

“And you didn’t tell me then?!” he demands furiously.

His mother narrow her eyes slightly, just enough to carry her message through; she’s not putting up with his bullshit blustering. “You were coming home anyway, and we thought it would be better for you to find out in person rather than on the phone.”

Katsuki runs a frantic hand through his hair. "What the hell." He shakes his head. This is too absurd. Ridiculous. It can’t be happening. Not to him. Not right the fuck now. "I’ll fucking kill him! He can't do this to me!"

"Congratulation," his mother says dryly, patting Kasumi's back consolingly as she finally quiets down in her arms, "you won the lottery of life. You're a father now."

"Papa?" Kasumi sniffs hopefully, head swiveling around the room as she searches for the ghost that haunted both of their life before landing on Katsuki once more.

"Oh, no, sweetie, that's your daddy," his mother says, pointing toward him. "Say hi to daddy."

Kasumi's curious gaze falls on him, looking at him intensely before her face scrunches up in disgust and she wails, "No! Papa! Papa! Papa?!"

His mother sighs. "Look at what you did and she'd just stopped crying. Stop upsetting her."

Katsuki sputters in outrage. "What?! I fucking did no such thing, hag!"

Kasumi wouldn’t calm down after that until his mother takes her out of the room and kicks Katsuki to somewhere else. The less interaction between the new acquainted father-daughter pair the better, it seems.

He only known this little shit for five minutes and she's already making him lose his mind just like Deku; fucking great.

People often spoke of fatherhood as this life altering thing, like it's some goddamn revelation and a humbling experience as though that will get Katsuki to stay even more than a minute in the same room with her. He'd spent the first day home, avoiding her as much as possible. But her cries had followed him wherever he go. It permeated through the walls, shook the skeleton beams that hold up the roof, and soaked into the foundation of the house. Her despair was a palpable and angry thing that chaffed at his skin as she lamented the loss of her Papa.

Fatherhood sits uncomfortable against him like a cheap, oversize coat that was haphazardly thrown on him. He doesn't know what to do with her. She's too loud, angry, and hurt. The few words that she spoke are that to call the name of someone else, someone who had left her behind.

He doesn't know if babies that young can even comprehend such things, but he sees how she always orientated her body toward the entrance of a room and the surprised hitch in her voice when someone enter then the disappointment that followed afterward written all over her round face.

He never makes any effort to try to reach out and comfort her in any of those moments. Can only watch as his parents gently held her in their arms, cooed gentle words, and offered the world up to stop her from hurting so much like they had done this a hundred times before. It's an old war wound revisited even before he’d arrived at their doorstep.

He doesn't understand her pain. Doesn't feel connected to her like his parents are because sometimes it's like she's speaking in a foreign language that he only has the most rudimentary skill to comprehend. It's the truth. She's alien to him and he doesn't know how to love her properly.

Maybe if he was there from the very beginning to witness her birth, saw her first steps and heard that first word that tumble out of her mouth, maybe, maybe then he wouldn't feel so cold and indifferent to her and her cries.

And this is all Izuku's fault for denying him this right.

He could have it all, all those first times and more. Perhaps even the rumor parental love that comes with it but all he got is a crying stranger with a bucket load of anger and abandonment issue. It's not fucking fair.

How dare Izuku leave him with this unwanted responsibility?!

Katsuki has no time for this bullshit. He's going to graduate soon. There’s an vacant spot with his name on it at some toptier agency. The no. 1 hero position is his to seize. And the world is open up for his taking. He can't have a baby holding him back now. No. No, absolutely not.

Fuck this. Fuck Deku. And—and fuck her too.

Somewhere in the midst of sinking into his own pit of despair and uncontrollable rage, he'd forgotten that he isn't alone in this awful maelstrom. His parents may have fair better than him, but they got trapped into hellhole like he did. They didn’t sign up to be grandparents like this, to have a one year old grandchild dropped into their lap with no words. His parents doesn’t deserve this, but they stand firm by him and is there to catch the fallout of his mistake.

Beside one other unmentionable person, they understands him best and though he doesn't say it, they can tell by way his body stiffened up around Kasumi, how he'd never call her by her name, or look at her in the eyes - it's the same damn eyes that had fucked over. They know.

His father gently pulls him aside one night and looks at him somberly. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to." The ‘you don't have to do this’ is left on spoken. "We'll take care of her." He smiles at Katsuki with an understanding, no judgment that he can decipher. "Her arrival was unexpected, but not unwanted."

Katsuki lets out a shuddering breath that he didn’t even know he was holding this entire time like a heavy weight is lift off of him and he can finally, finally take breathe at last. “T-Thanks, dad," he says, staring down at his clenched hands. It's a relief, but bittersweet.

A week after Kasumi was shoved into his arms by his mother, Katsuki is set to go back to U.A. He thinks if he was a better man, a better father, he would stop and race back and tell his father that no, he want this, want her, but he doesn't. He walks out and doesn't look back.

Chapter Text

After two years trying to wrangle his little hellion into some semblance of a human child of three, Katsuki thinks he maybe finally got this fatherhood thing down. Enough to take Kasumi to the aquarium for the first time without his parents hovering anxiously nearby like he’s going to set his kid on fire or something if they’re not looking.

He can fucking take care of his own kid.

Maybe it’s a sign, but Kasumi takes to the aquarium with a bright and curious look on her face and a hunger for more. She wants to see and know everything and Katsuki is just desperately trying to keep up with rambunctious her.

With her hand tucked in his, she excitedly leads him on walk through the aquarium like she had any fucking clue what she’s doing as much as he does and he’s the adult here. It’s disgustingly cute.

After half an hour roaming around the area, they abruptly find themselves standing right front in a large underwater tunnel surrounded by reinforced glass on all sides and a sea of aquatic life all around them. There’s a family nearby, a trio of parents and child, and Kasumi stops to stare at them for a moment too long before turning to him with a slight frown.

“Daddy, where’s Papa?” Kasumi asks, squeezing his hand meaningfully.

Katsuki freezes, mind drawing a blank as he fumbles for a quick answer. “He got eaten by a shark,” he lies like a fucking idiot.

“Oh.” She blinks and peers at the underwater fish tank with new eyes.

And that was that.

She didn’t push for more throughout the entire trip and Katsuki breathes a little easier. He knew this day would come. Kasumi always been unreasonably attach to the vague memories of the one year Izuku had her before she was literally dropped in Katsuki’s arms like a recycle trash.

Katsuki had read plenty of books on parenting, child-rearing, and development psychology to know there’s really no proper way to prepare yourself for any of it. Humans are fucking complicated enough as it is but children might as well be another species. He doesn’t get them. It. Give him some villainous idiot with vision of grandeur and he’ll make mincemeat out of them, but in front of Kasumi? He’s navigating a minefield completely fucking deaf and blind.

Because how do you even begin to explain to your three years old that she was abandoned by her dame and left in his clumsy care? That she was the result of some stupid teenage’s mistake? And that there was no lost love between her parents, but thank fuck she came out alright.

So, fuck yea, he’d avoided the truth as much as possible.

He’s goddamn hero and a monster on the battlefield, but when Kasumi look at him with the same curious green eyes that had always haunted like he has all the answer to her questions, he’s screwed ten ways to Sunday.

It’s cowardly, but he wasn’t going to tell her shit unless she asked first and even then he find himself struck dumb by her question every time that “eaten by a shark” is not the worst answer he’d came up with, when he’s prod about Izuku’s whereabouts again. “He went to the moon,” Katsuki grits out.

And that is follow by: “shot into the sun”, “ran over by a truck”, “drowned in the Atlantic ocean”, “fell into a well”, and “murdered by angry pigeons” because Katsuki is literally scummiest, killing off Izuku in his head just so he can avoid telling the truth to his daughter.

Kasumi took all of his more and more ridiculous answer – lies – each time with a grave nod and acceptance like it’s a fact and he’s not making shit up on the fly and lying through his pants that Katsuki felt a smidge of guilt about it until the next time she brought up Izuku again.

Katsuki is not a good person.

He’s an even worst dad, but fuck is he trying to do right by her and if that mean coming up with bullshit excuses to fool her until she’s older and ready to hear the truth, then fuck he’s going to continue this charade because parenting is fucking hard. And Kasumi is worth all that suffering.

Chapter Text

Katsuki senses his imminent doom just as the door to his office slams open and a miniature terror marches in. “Daddy,” his walking headache implores.

“What did I tell you about knocking,” he snaps. Kasumi gives him a look, sighs, and stomps back out, slamming the door behind her; the noise of it jostles his papers.

“Gently,” he hisses at the door.

From outside another loud sigh slips drifts in before the door is pry open only to be close again with a quiet click. He waits a beat then a series of pointed knock is heard and the door pushes open to reveal his impertinent daughter’s scowling face.

“Happy?” she retorts.

“Fucking ecstatic,” he returns dryly, leaning back into his seat as he watches Kasumi make her way into his office.

She walks toward the empty seat in front of him and sits down. “I made you lunch,” she declares, pulling out a wooden bento box out of her backpack.

"You made lunch,” he says, letting the skepticism drip from his voice.

“Well, grandpa made lunch and I’d helped,” she admits with absolutely no shame.

Careful of his paperwork, she places the bento on his desk and looks up at him with an expectant smile, which instantly triggers all the alarm bells in his head. He looks at the bento suspiciously like it’s a ticking bomb. “What did you do?”

Her smile widens impishly, and he knows trouble when he’s staring right at her in the face.

“Daddy, are you impotent?” asks the little monster, adopting a sympathetic look. “Because if you are, I just want you to know it’s okay and it’s completely normal for a man of your age. We can work with that!”

Katsuki nearly bit his tongue as he stumbles out a, “What the ever loving fuck.”

She shrugs. “Well, I worry about you a lot because you’re alone all the time while your friends are all mated already, so I asked Uncle Kaminari and he said, you’re either saving yourself for a special someone or maybe you’re just impotent.”

Katsuki’s left eye twitches. “Do you even know what that mean,” he grits out, taking a brief tantalizing t moment to consider murder in that wannabe lightning rod’s very near future.

Kasumi nods her head sagely. “I read online how it’s a medical or psychological condition for a man to have their body’s lower region not be proactive in sex. But it’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” she insists loudly and vehemently that Katsuki is fucking glad his office is sound proof. “You can have a perfectly normal romantic relationship without getting physical. I want you to know I support and understand you, Daddy.”

Yea, that’s it. He has had it. “I’m not fucking impotent!” he all but shouts.

She cocks her head and furrows her brows. “You’re not?” she says, like the idea is so out there that she couldn’t wrap her head around it. “Then, why do I never see you go out on a date with anyone?” She bites her lip. “Is it because you’re still waiting for Papa to come back?”

Katsuki tenses up immediately at the mention of the one who’d fucked up and fucked out of both their life, when Kasumi was just only one and Katsuki hadn’t even graduate U.A. yet. The thought of Izuku alone is enough to trigger a firestorm of resentment that burns fiercely within him. That coward, good fucking riddance to him.

But Kasumi got it up in her little head that the tragedy of his and Izuku’s relationship is some bullshit star-crossed romance made for some primetime TV, and not because they were stupid teenagers and she’s the product of their mistake. He’ll take that truth to the grave.

The only good thing Izuku ever did for him was given birth to Kasumi and walking away from them. He hope he’ll never meet him again or Katsuki would have his hero license revoke and thrown in jail for what’s he going to do Izuku. Children aren’t baggage to be thrown around. His little monster princess is nobody’s burden.

He would happily beat Izuku to the ground to teach him that hard lesson that Katsuki had to learned by the edge of his seat when a goddamn baby was trusted into his arms at eighteen and was told to fucking take care of her. He didn’t want her then because he was stupid, young, and entirely overwhelmed but she’s his now and he’ll fight to keep her.

As long as he has a single breath in him, Izuku will never come near them again. Midoriya Izuku has no place in Kasumi’s life now. He’ll make sure of it. “No,” he grinds out, firm and unforgiving. “Absolutely fucking not.” Kasumi frowns, opening her mouth to respond but Katsuki shakes her off with a snappish, “Don’t. Just drop it.”

“Fine.” She pouts, folding her arms across her chest. “I still don’t like the thought of you being alone like this though. I can’t watch over you forever, Daddy.”

Now it’s Katsuki’s turn to frown. “Shut your mouth. You’re a fetus still.”

Kasumi balks indignantly. “I’m ten!”

“Unless I’m six feet under and on my last breath, you’re always going to be a fetus in my eyes,” he says, like they didn’t have this argument a hundred times before because Kasumi thinks ten is the new thirty or some shit and she got to take on the world all by herself.

Katsuki never thought he would be those parents, but here he is making sure his little monster princess never have a single worry in her life because he’ll take care of everything for her. More than maintaining his number one position, ensuring her happiness is his life’s goal now. Parenthood is damn humbling business. But it doesn’t mean he has to put up with her inane bullshits. “And cut that train of thought out. I’m fucking fine. You and work are enough to give me to drive me into an early grave already; I don’t need any extra headache.”

Kasumi lets out a hellish groan. “Why are you so difficult?!”

A brow shoots up. “Me?” he says evenly. “Monster, you’re the definition of difficult. Now, go away and let me eat in peace please before I consider throwing you out for the trouble.”

Kasumi scoffs. “Fine, but I’m not done here.”

“When are you ever,” he mutters, knowing his daughter perfectly well now.

Kasumi roll her eyes but, thank whatever fucking deity, she keeps her mouth mostly shut as she gets up from her seat and walks around his desk. Standing next to him, she gives him an expectant look and he leans his head toward. She smacks her lips on his cheek. “Take care, Daddy,” she chirps happily.

Kasumi may be the greatest headache to ever landed in his arms, but she’s also his little monster princess and he doesn’t think he can ever love anyone as much as he does for her. He grunts, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Yea, see you,” he says, warmth thickening his voice.

She giggles, batting his hand away from her person. “No, don’t mess up my hair!” she says. “Make sure to eat all your food, okay?” He flashes her a thump up and she grins. “Alright, leaving now,” she declares, and just as she about to head toward the exit she stops.

She turns around with a beatific smile on her face and says softly, “You know, your life doesn’t have to revolve around only me, Daddy. You’re allowed to be selfish and happy too. You may think it doesn’t matter but you matter to me so I will make sure you’ll find someone even if I have to search the entire world over.”

Before he could even compose a proper respond to that sentiment, Kasumi runs out, leaving him humble, warm and full of stupid love for this ridiculous monster princess of his; his daughter, his most precious treasure in the entire world. Children are truly a gift, he thinks.

The rest of her words don’t actually register in his head till a few days later when she hijacks his agency’s press conference to declare her mission to find him a mate to the entire fucking world and the press eats it the fuck up. All the earlier warmth he’d felt rush out as he questions the entire existence of children once more. Parenthood, the true trial of life that tests even the greatest of man.

Chapter Text

“Princess, tell me what the fuck did I ever do to you in my last life for you to torture me like this,” Katsuki beseeches. “Do you wake up every morning, thinking how you’re going to fuck with me today?”

Kasumi pouts. “Stop being so overdramatic,” says the Queen of Overdramatic. “I just want to help you find a mate because you’re getting old, Daddy,” she continues. “I worry about you a lot, like what happen when I’m not there to help you?”  

Katsuki sputters in indignation. "I’m twenty-nine, you little monster!” he hisses.

She cocks her head thoughtfully. “That would explain the grey hair I saw this morning.”

Instinctively, he reaches for his hair as the little monster grins victoriously. “I’m kidding, Daddy,” she coos. “Of course, you don’t have any. You look handsome as always.”

Katsuki glares, dropping his hand back. “If I have any grey hair, it won’t be my age or my job that cause it. It’ll be you.”

Kasumi roll her eyes. “Please, I’m a blessing, and you know it,” she says with all the confident of a ridiculously spoiled only child, the apple of her grandparents’ eyes, and who never had to share anything in her fucking life. “You’re lucky to even have such a smart, pretty, and thoughtful daughter like me, Daddy.”

“Then why does it feel like a curse most of the time,” he grumbles, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. She just had to open her mouth about his bachelorhood.

“Hey, hey,” she protests loudly. “If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have so many suitors clamoring for your time and attention. You can’t just get by with your good looks alone to attract potential mates! So I had to do something to help because you weren’t going to do anything about it.”

“I told you, I’m not interest in finding a mate,” he snaps. “And all your so call ‘suitors’ are absolute trash.”

Kasumi frowns, and actually have the audacity to look sheepish as though she didn’t sell him to the press and now everyone thinks he’s desperate for a mate because he’s pathetically lonely that’s why. “Well, sometimes you have to go through a pile of rocks to find that diamond,” she says.

“What diamond,” he grumbles. “All I’ve seen so far are fucking useless rocks.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Look, I don’t need your help. I’m fine alone. In fact I like it that way.”

“But are you happy?” she insists earnestly, stepping forward. “I just want you to be happy.”

He drops his hands on her shoulders and squeezes. “I’m never going to say this again, so listen up, princess,” he says, voice low and serious. “Having you in my life makes me happy. God knows why, though, but you do.”

Kasumi’s lips wobbles, green eyes glistening. “Daaaaaddy!” she wails, and tackles his legs.

He bends down and wraps his arm around her small body; his pride and joy. The light of his miserable fucking life. He loves this child more than he can than any words can properly encompass it.

“But you’re not getting out of this yet,“ says the little monster, breaking the tender moment.

He scowls into her hair, his breath tickling her ear and she giggles. "Don’t worry, this is the last one I promise,” she says. “And I really, really like him.” Which is a ringing endorsement coming from her. She’s polite and sweet but she actually doesn’t like everyone, she just tolerates them nicely. Unlike him.

“He’s quirkless like me and have the prettiest green eyes I’ve seen,” she continues to tell him, stepping back to give a bright hopeful smile as Katsuki’s stomach drops with dread because her next words are devastating: “His name is Midoriya Izuku, and I want you to meet him, Daddy.”

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku died on a Tuesday. Sixteen years old and dead in the grave from a freak accident that could only come out of some comedy sketch, barely drawing anyone’s attention the same way that all of  his life. Boring and unspectacular.

Except, he’d woken up in strange, new world where his life has only just begun.

It been three days, three terrifying and bizarre days, since Izuku found himself waking up in an underground tomb and staring up at a large statue of his own face – an older and more compose version of himself wearing fantastical clothes that can only found in worlds too far from his own.

Several hands had quickly descended upon him as soon as he had opened his eyes and brought him out of the crystal casket. Their strange garble words rung in his ears in a language so foreign sounding that Izuku thought it was a guttural roar of an animal, but these people were humans.

Right? He thought.

The hands that carefully guided him up had felt human, but there’s something about their touch that felt a little too warm especially when he’d looked closely at their face he caught the slit of their dark pupils and the pointed edge of their ears that had told of another story.

Not human. No, not all.

“Who, what—" he swallowed around the rising panic, “where am I?” Izuku asked. Demanded to know, but they turned to him with a confused look and their garbled words kept spilling out as he found himself stranded and alone in this strange land. Until a new hand reached for him and twisted him around, and he staring up and up at the familiar and yet so strange face of his childhood friend. Older, sharper, and there’s something feral the way he looks at Izuku.

“Kacchan?” he said, chest swelled with hope and longing but the man who is Kacchan, but not Kacchan pulled down Izuku’s pants right then.

Izuku squeaked out and tried to push him off, but the man was like an unmovable mountain and he pawed at Izuku’s left bare thigh, looking at it over and over again as though trying to find something but nothing. He huffed and peered at Izuku with a look of utter disappointment.

It’s a look he’s accustomed to.  

He shoved Izuku aside like he was trash to be thrown and Izuku nearly wept because even if he doesn’t know where he was, who these people were, and why does Kacchan look at him like that – he knew beyond strange sounding words and stranger landscape, that he wasn’t the one they were waiting for.

Izuku didn’t cry then; he’d saved all his tears for the many nights afterward when he’s curled up in bed and mourned for all that he’d lost: his mom, the comfort of home and everything that was familiar to him. All of it gone. Disappeared the moment he’d opened his eyes.

Now, Izuku sits alone in his tower, wasting away with the rise and fall of the sun. In this world, he’s alive and breathing but he might as well be dead because he just exists on the precipice. Barely holding on and dreaming of another world, another life that was once his.

These days when he wakes up, it’s to the startling face of strangers attending to him. They’d taken his clothes earlier, the only remnants of his past, and decked him out in a loose thin silk that barely cover him. It feels wrong like they’re trying to fit him into something that he’s not. But it’s not their fault that Izuku is uneasy, because when they look at him with such hopeful eyes like he’s something of value, like he’s made for greater things than the four walls of his bedroom, apology hangs on his lips.

Sorry, I’m so sorry, he wants to tell them. I’m not who you think I am.

Izuku thinks of the man, whose face he shares, carved in stone and the opulent tomb built in his worshipful image, he knows there is another Midoriya Izuku that had existed in this world and he was a something. A someone whose greatness was erected in his honor and made these people fall over themselves for Izuku.

But Izuku is not him.

Not the one they were all waiting to awaken. This is what it must feel like to be an imposter in your skin, he thinks. It’s an odd thing to consider, but this world is already weird enough with its strange clothes and people, and an even stranger Kacchan.

He’d only seen Kacchan but not Kacchan three separate times since he’d been whisked away to his tower of solitude. The first time Kacchan visited him an air cool indifference surrounded him. He’d brought a handful of serious and dour looking people in long white sweeping robe wit him.

They’d turned him over and examined him like he’s a slab of meat, combing over every inch of his exposed body for something that isn’t there as they made quiet murmurs of discontent. One of them had brought out a dark sphere and had him touch it.

When it didn’t react to him at all, they’d sighed.

The tests continued with various objects, even a large broad sword that seemed to be broken in half was brought out, but none of it did anything for him. In Izuku’s hand they were just things, common things, but from the dissatisfaction on the white robe people’s face he knew he’d failed there and that had cut more deep.

Kacchan but not Kacchan observed the entire process carefully and silently with narrowed eyes, his expression becoming more and more clouded with each failure. He didn’t say a single word, but his lack of it said enough for Izuku to understand: there was no hope. He’d watched it died a fiery death in front of him, unable to do anything about it.

The hours had passed by until the white robe people finally gave up and Kacchan clicked in his tongue in annoyance, shaking his head in frustration. He stormed out without another word and the white robe people had quickly followed him, not even giving Izuku a backward glance as he remained there.

The second time Kacchan but not Kacchan came to visit him, he was alone but anger dogged his steps. He marched up to Izuku, pawing at his hair and face like he’s a forgotten piece of map that Kacchan was trying to memorize all over again but unfortunately this map was not an original.

He’s a poor imitation, full of defects.

Kacchan pushed him away, his voice dripping in disdain and disgust as words, that hold no meaning to Izuku, fell out of him in an angry torrent. Even with the clear language barrier between them his rage went beyond the indecipherable words. It tore at him.

With a cry of despair, Kacchan punched a fist through the vanity mirror, liquid gold bleeding from his clenched hand – if there’s any clearer hints that this world was not his own and this Kacchan isn’t his Kacchan – and Izuku stared at it in horror. Not human, repeated in his head. For a brief moment fear dug its teeth in him as Kacchan broke himself and everything else.

He was a savage thunderstorm, hurling his resentment at every object in the room and Izuku was in the eye of it, but there was no peace or quiet given to him. It should be scary. It is scary, but the fear he’d felt wasn’t for himself but for man who was clearly suffering.

Because even in his mindless rage, Kacchan didn’t lay a single ill intent hand on him. He remained untouched by Kacchan’s violence. His anger was directed outward, painted in broad and violent strokes across the room that it left Izuku hurting all over for him.

After making a mess of the room, Kacchan stormed out, leaving Izuku behind to feel lost and adrift in the sea of uncertainly. In this bizarre place where he doesn’t know anything, Kacchan was the only recognizable and constant force that Izuku knew well enough even in Katsuki’s wordless anger and grief.

And it was indeed grief under that tidal wave of violence. A different kind of grief than Izuku’s own but it’s grief all the same. The kind that stay rooted in his chest and grew with time, its vines wrapping tightly around his lungs till every time he breathe it’d hurt.

The next time Kacchan but not Kacchan came around again, it was only for a moment and he didn’t say a single word. He stood there looking at Izuku from the doorway with a coldness that had seemed impenetrable, causing Izuku to squirm in his seat and a bubbling of nerves to rise.

He opened his mouth and words that didn’t mean anything to Izuku but it had meant everything slipped pass his lips. Izuku didn’t understand, didn’t know it back then, but it was his deathknell; Kacchan walked out after that and Izuku had watched him do it. He didn’t stop him. Didn’t make any attempt for it, it would be one of his greatest mistakes that he can’t ever take back .

The days afterward were long and hard. Izuku waited and waited, but Kacchan didn’t come back again. It was then he’d realized Kacchan was never coming here again. Izuku won’t be able to see Kacchan anymore, because Izuku wasn’t who he wanted or needed after all.

That truth had hit him so brutally that some days it felt like he’d spent most it sleeping, barely having any energy to get up from his bed as though he was just waiting to die. He can’t go home and these people didn’t want here him either, so what was to become of him then?

When Kacchan stop coming around, the handful of servants who were attending him earlier abruptly withdrew until only one was left and Izuku’s visitor log was reduced to waiting for her come bring him food and prepare his clothes for him.

It is a lonely and barren existent.

Day changes into night and night changes into the day. Time passes and Izuku is still here. He has long lost count of how many days since he’d woken up in that tomb, but it felt he’d aged a decade since he’d been here, waiting for the day when he close his eyes and it will be the last time.

Izuku sighs and curls deeper in his bed.

It’s late in the afternoon but he finds no energy to get up. It’s just a spiraled of dark thoughts haunting him, digging its teeth deeper into his crumbling heart. What good is he? So useless. Unwanted. Nobody care. He’s not needed. He—

His dark thought abruptly pulls to a stop when something green catches his attention in the corner of his eyes and he turns to look. It floats into his view and remains there briefly. Izuku stares and stares at it. It is the first time he’d ever seen it and he’s choked up with a surge of emotion.

It looks kind like a butterfly from his world, but this creature is round like a ball and has the thinnest glass wings that seem breakable with a single breath. It glows with a soft emerald light. Izuku sits up as though drawn to it.

The creature flickers out and reappears somewhere in the distance. Izuku heart races as he quickly gives chase.

He doesn’t know what propel him forward, but it been so long since he felt this excited, motivated enough to do something. Anything at all. It leads him out of his room, flickering past the shut doors, and Izuku’s feet freezes right then.

He’d never trek past it before. Never went out for any reason, because he couldn’t find any reason

He glances back at his room that has been his cage for so long and looks back to the doors. It’s terrifying, even though this was his prison, it was also a place he’d made for himself and to leave it was daunting..

He can go back. Right now.

Return to his dreary, boring life like nothing had change and fall back to comfort of his bed. It’s much better than the unknown, right? Yes. It’s true, but Izuku is already reaching for the doorknobs before he can reconsider.

If it turned out to be lock then it was not meant to be, he tells himself.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and prays. For what and to whom he doesn’t know, but he prays and hopes. The door turns with a click and he breathes. Oh, how he breathes. It opens into a deep hallway where the green thing is there as though waiting for him.

And so it is meant to be.

Izuku follows it as it leads him through the winding labyrinth of the tower, where there is no single soul in sight. Maybe they’d really forgotten him, he thinks bitterly. After bringing him here and discarding him aside for not being their Izuku, they truly do intend to leave him here to die.

Even Kacchan. Probably.

It isn’t long before the green thing stops in front of another set of doors, but these doors are grander than the one from his bedroom and when he follows the green thing through, pushing the doors wide open, he steps into a beautiful vintage study room full of books and maps. Walls and walls of it.

Izuku’s breath was almost stolen and he wants to stay there forever, combing through every nooks and cranny, drowning in the texts but the green thing didn’t wait for him as it flickers toward another set of doors.

He found it hard to pull himself from the shelves of books, but with much reluctant he trails after it once more. It had led him here and he should at least see how it end.

It wasn’t easy, but he drags his feet to the other doors. Sucking in a deep breath, he pushes his way in, and like everything else so these doors also give in to him way too easily. And he steps onto a balcony that opens up to a clear sky, the sunlight hitting him right in the face.

It’s a bright, clear day and a light breeze teases his cheeks, brushing against his exposed skin and he feels – he feels cold, warm, and so, so alive. Then he looks down from the balcony and he falls to his knees in shock.

There’s an entire world down there.

A city bristling with life. So colorful and vibrant and he’d missed it all from corner of his room, tucked up his bed. This was what he is missing. Izuku is terribly and dreadfully alone, but he doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to be his life.

He just didn’t think he had a choice in that regard. Didn’t care to seek it because he thought it wasn’t an option, but just like the many unlocked doors he’d never attempt to open, they are there in front of him all this time; he just have to get up and take the first step.

It’s a scary thought.

Somewhere between waking up in the underground tomb and shoved up in his tower, Izuku had forgotten that there was an entire new world outside the walls of his bedroom for him to explore, to understand, and to embrace.

It’s startling; this revelation that hits him likes a lightning.

He doesn’t have to settle for a life stuck inside the four walls of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to settle for such a miserable existent, not when there’s so much this world has to offer him. Maybe he is trapped in this world, never to return to his own, but this doesn’t have to be all to his life. There could be more to his life as long as he tries.

He thinks of that green thing that had first sparked his initial curiosity and drove him to chase it down, it’s such a small and insignificant thing but it’d changed everything for him, opening up a new path for him to take.

He gingerly stands up and observe the city and people unfolding before him, the green thing hovering close by before blinking out of existence as though its job to lead him here is finally done.

One day he’ll walk those streets and meet all kind of new faces and they will know his name and he will know theirs. The initial step is always the hardest but he’d already taken it by stepping through doorway of his bedroom and walked out of it for the first time.

The next steps won’t be any easier, but he can do this. He can. Izuku breathes in and out and slaps his face as though to wake up that sleeping boy in him who’d read countless adventure books and comics and dream of being a hero of his own story.

Well, this is his story now.

He doesn’t have to be a hero, to walk in the shadow of that Izuku who had died, but he’ll carved out his own path and walk it with his head held high and maybe, just maybe it’ll be alright. But first, he’ll need to get his hand on all the information.

In all the stories he’d read, the hero always have some sword skill or magic talent and he has neither. And is not like Izuku is exactly bulking with strength either, but there isn’t a single way to wield power. Knowledge is just as potent and a keen mind is the sharpest sword, this is a lesson he’d learned through countless read-through.

Izuku take one last longing glance down at the city and turns around, stepping back into the study and shutting out the view of the city once more. Not yet. One day, surely. With much lighter steps, he walks over the wall of books and combs over a few that catch his interest.

He grabs a handful of them from the shelf, picking those that have the most relevant pictures in it and sneaks it back to his bedroom. The writing is incomprehensible to him now, but it doesn’t mean it will be forever. He can learn. He will learn.

It’s just a matter of effort and time.

Stuck in this tower of his and left forgotten by the people who had brought him here, he has plenty of those to spare. The books he’d carefully chosen are full with strange and fantastical imageries of never seen before floras and faunas.

Dragons. Two-headeds serpants. And what look to be sandsharks. How bizzare and fantastical, he thinks as his heart pounds with interest. If he ever has any doubt that this is just all one long nightmare then this is his truth right then.

Izuku finds himself getting lost in the text, tracing the strange characters that form the skeleton of this world and not knowing what it all mean, but with a burgeoning hope in his heart.

He lost hours and hours to it until he hears footsteps outside his bedroom. He quickly shoves his books away and hides them as the door opens to reveal the same serving girl who attends to him every day, bringing him food, clothes, and other necessities.

They never spoke to each other, because Izuku was still nursing his hurt and despaired and there was a language barrier between them, but she always have a kind smile to offer him. She brings him a tray full a food, an assortment of exotic meats and vegetable that still surprises him.

Izuku rarely left his bed for any reason, or at least before today, so the girl carries the tray to him where he’s sitting up on the edge of the bed. With a smile, she lays the tray on his lap and just as she’s about to step back when Izuku croaks out a soft, “thank you.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief at the sound of his voice, hoarse and robotic as it has been unused for so long, but she’d heard it well and clear despite it. Seizing that moment of shock between them and with a racing heart, Izuku points to himself and says almost shyly, “Izuku.”

She blinks, uncomprehending.

“Izuku,” he says again, more insistently this time around as he pounds his chest then he points to her expectantly. “Ee-zu-koo.”

She stares at him for a moment before she brightens up with realization and says with a slow, careful pronunciation, “El-ka-ink.” Normally, “Elkaine.”

“El. Ka. Ink. El-ca-ink. Elkaine,” he says, rolling the word in his mouth and letting it sink in. He points to her. “Elkaine.” Then to himself, slowly, he says, “Izuku.”

She nods and smiles encouragingly as she says his name, “Ee-zu-koo. Izuku!”

It been so long he’d heard his own name spoken like that, or at all, that he can’t help but returns her bright smile with a small, tentative one of his own. It’s such an insignificant thing, barely a ripple but that’s fine. All it takes is the initial step and everything else will follow.

He looks down at his tray of food and picks up a pink spiky fruit. He points to it and looks at Elkaine expectantly.

She grins as she tells him, “numo.”

And that’s how it begins for him. Izuku may have been discarded and left to die, but he doesn’t have to accept it. And if Kacchan won’t come to him than he’ll come to Kacchan. This is start of his story, unwritten.

Chapter Text

Izuku had broken up with Katsuki on a boring, unspectacular Wednesday.

Afterward, it only took three hours for his name to trend all over the internet and be called a clout chaser, gold digger, and even a harlot by millions of random people he’d never before because he’d broken the heart of their precious Crown Prince.

He couldn’t even step a foot outside of his home without being bombarded with paparazzi accusing him of using the prince to social climb before ruthlessly dumping him.

“What did I tell you about dating His Royal Asshole?” Ochako says as Izuku groans, having hide out in her apartment for three days now because the media corps decided to stake out his apartment for him.  

“To not to do it,” he admits with a wince, “even on pain of death and that I should stay away from that hot mess.”

“Atta boy,” she says with a nod, but she doesn’t let him rest on his laurels for long, “but you didn’t listen and chose to jumped right in and be fucked over.”

“It was his hot bod,” Izuku murmurs, staring down at their tray of takeout daifuku from his favorite dessert shop; the one that he used to visit often with Katsuki but can’t anymore because the kind elderly owner who’d always handed him extra daifuku with his purchased had given him the stink eye and a lecture when he came to pick up his order yesterday.

Ochako snorts. “If only that was the case, then you would have dated Kirishima instead like I’d wisely suggested. At least he wasn’t a prince.”

He sulks. “Kacchan took my favorite shoe hostage! He wouldn’t give it back unless I go on a date with him.”

“Because you threw your shoe at him!” she retorts.

Izuku groans again, because this story had been rehashed so many times already. “It was an accident! And he only asked me out so he can mock me endlessly about it.”

“And you found that Royal Ass charming enough to go on another date and another and another.” She huffs. “Now, look where you’d ended up.”

Izuku stares down at his pajamas that he hadn’t bother to change out since this morning. It has been several days now and he’d barely left Ochako’s apartment for anything but the lure of food. What a sad and deplorable existence his life became, and all because he’d fallen in love with the Crown Prince of Japan.

“It been two weeks already,” he whines, resisting the urge to shove another piece of daifuku in his mouth. It would have been his thirteen one on this awful evening. “Why won’t they just leave me alone? I’m not that interesting enough to keep making headlines after headlines. Every. Single. Day.”

Ochako just gives him a long, pointed look. “You broke up with him on live TV and in front of hundreds important guests s at his mother’s birthday, who by the way is the much loved Empress. For someone who is afraid of drawing attention to himself you sure know how to wreck complete havoc.”

Izuku drops his face into his hands and mutters words into it, muffling his respond. The memory of Katsuki’s distraught and confused face that night, just right before Izuku had run out on him, still haunts him.

A hand ruffles his hair fondly. “Hey, hey, can’t hear you.”

He groans and raises his head in despair. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“I would hope so,” Ochako says dryly. “This may even top that time when you broke into Eito Med Lab at sixteen, freed all their test animals, and got thrown in jail for three days.”

Izuku grimaces. “That bad?”

She lets out a whistle. “Way worst.” She pats him on the shoulder. “If you wanted to cut him off you could have break it to him gently. In private, preferably, and where his parents, various government dignitaries, and the entire nation weren’t breathing down your back the whole time.”

Tucking his knees against his chest, he chews on his lower lip and quietly confesses, “I found the ring Kacchan was hiding.”

Ochako’s eyes nearly bulge out of their socket. “He was going to ask you to married him?!”

Izuku hesitates, then frantically, he says, “I panicked!” he protests. “It was just before we’d left for the party and I saw the ring box hidden in his drawers.” He recalls that moment when he’d first found it and how it felt like his entire world had shift on its axis. “All thoughts went out of my head after that.” He drags his hands down his face. “What was I supposed to do?!”

“Not break up with him on live TV!” she snaps, pinching the bridge of her nose. Ochako lets out a long-suffering sigh like Izuku’s existence is tiring her. That’s probably true, because being around Izuku is tiring. “So did you not want to marry him, is that it?” she probes.

Izuku looks away, his insides all twisted up thinking about it. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Of course it does!” she insists loudly, drawing his attention back to her. “If you don’t want marry him then that’s fine, but,” she frowns at him, “if you do want to then you got to stop sabotaging yourself!”

“I just don’t think we’re a good match for each other,” he reveals his deepest and greatest fear that he had been nursing since he knew what it’d meant to be with Bakugou Katsuki.  

All the anxiety he’d locked away in a chest is now broke open, spilling out of the cracks. He’s terrified. Wretchedly afraid like the first time he’d found out every tabloid press had plastered his face and name everywhere just because he was caught hanging out with Kacchan. They weren’t even dating at that time.

Her brows furrow. “Why do you date him then? I thought you love,” she pauses and shakes her head before continuing, “well, maybe it’s loved now.”

Izuku nearly jumps out of his seat to correct her. “No, I still do! That hasn’t change!”

“Then?” she presses relentlessly.

Izuku swallows, hands clasping together in a tangle of tight knot in front of him. “I’m not a good fit for him. There’s a thick juvenile record with my name written all over it,  I’m chronically anxious and fighting off depression on a good day. My perfect night is cuddling in bed and tuning into a nature documentary, while Kacchan is out pretty much every night shaking hands with the movers and shakers of the world.  Everything little things he do make the news, even that one time he decided to wear a blue sweater and for the next three days that’s all the top news agency talk about the latest Prince Katsuki’s fashion trend. You can’t even be mad at him at all for it because he’s fiercly smart, charming when he wants to be, and more driven than anyone I know. And he lives is an actual palace where he get attended by servants everyday! Like, for him his normal day is  some strange drugged up fantasy! Can’t you see how he's—”

“Also an asshole,” Ochako interjects with an eye roll.

Izuku cries out in protest, but she raises her had up to stop him. “Look, Bakugou is smart as you said. Brilliant even,” she easily admits. “He’d made a lot of great political moves and done plenty to bolster the economy. He gets shit done and gets it done right, but he’s not a people person.” She sighs. “He looks at this country and sees it as a machine that he can fix and tinker with, but not as individual smaller pieces that make up the larger picture; he doesn’t see us because he’s Bakugou Katsuki, a prince who lives in a separate world than us so he doesn’t understand what it like to live on paycheck by paycheck, to worry about where your next meal may come from, and to live off government’s generosity. He’s a great prince but you,” she looks at him softly, “made him a good man and that’s more than anyone had ever done.”

She pries his tangled hands from each other and tucks them in hers, squeezing it meaningfully. “It’s because you feel so impassioned for this world and everyone who lives in it and not afraid to get hurt or let your voice be heard that Bakugou actually listened to you.”

Izuku looks down at their held hand and feel tears fall down his cheeks. He doesn’t deserve the friends he has now. They’re amazing people, far better than him. “Ochako, thank you,” he says, sniffing hard. “Thank you so much, but you have to understand Kacchan isn’t just anyone.” It feels tight and painful to admit it, but he wants her to know it’s not about him. It’s all for Katsuki. “He’s the heir to the throne and he has so many responsibilities rested on his shoulders that sometimes I would wake up at night and still see him up at 3AM drafting a new speech or policy. It looks easy because he purposely makes it look that way. He just puts so much on himself and doesn’t want to ask for help because his dumb pride, but he cares more than he let on.” He smiles thinking of how Katsuki loves, loves so fiercely that it’s drowning him. And Izuku is the anchor currently dragging him down right now.

“He’s going to be the future emperor one day and the person standing next to him can’t just be anyone,” he says softly. “It can’t be little old me. I’m just so scare.” He breaks at that admission. “So terrified that one day Kacchan will realize I was just one big mistake.”

“Oh, Izuku,” she breathes. “You’re such an idiot.” She breaks their hold and grabs him, pulling him against her chest. “It’ll be okay.”

Izuku knows nothing will be okay again. He’d just broken his own heart and Katsuki’s just to save their future. It’s fixable now. Who ever said love is fairy tale is damn liar. Did no one ever wonder what happened after the prince married Cinderella and the magic ended?  

Chapter Text

Izuku is eight when he learns the finer point of politic at his parents’ hand and the word ‘betrothal’ is thrown inconsequentially around like his future hadn’t been decided by a single word; intertwined with a boy he hasn’t even met yet.

“Be strong, dearest,” his mother tells him.

He accepts his inevitable fate with a solemn nod and turns to look beyond the horizon toward the north where the winters are said to be harsh, the lands are barren and rough, and the people are as cold and cruel as the bleak landscape that they had made home out of. One day it will also be Izuku’s.

Two years later, he meets the boy who would be king; his future husband.

With eyes burning a fierce red, clashing against the mute color of his thick wool coat, Katsuki of House Bakugou shoves Izuku to the floor. “Don’t be such a baby,” he says with a sneer. “I will not have my consort be a pathetic sniveling little brat.”

Izuku’s breath goes still as his stomach twists uncomfortably. “I,” he blinks back another set of tears, “I’ll be better from now on, Your Highness.” A was supposed to be a little roughhousing, a game between boys, but Izuku had never lifted a blade in his life and there are scars littered across Katsuki’s chest.

A grim silence settles heavy between them until Katsuki says, “Cry if you must, but don’t ever do it in front of anyone but me. You will be mine one day and I will accept all your weakness. Even your tears.”

He extends a hand out toward Izuku. Doesn’t reach out and force Izuku to take it. That’s when Izuku knows while love doesn’t bloom easily between them, this is a start.

It’s their story to write.

Izuku leaves his homeland at fifteen and heads north to the mountains where he’ll to be wed before the summer’s light end. The cold doesn’t hit him right away, but it slowly sinks into his lungs until every breath he takes a tendril of chills against his chest.

It’s unbearably frigid.

The nights are long and hard in the north, and all that Izuku can see is covered in white. It’s snow, he’d read about it once tucked up his bed. Something as delicate and utterly beautiful as that can only survived in this brutishly cold condition. How strange, he muses.

It’s something he wouldn’t ever experience in the evergreen of Maedorii, where it’s humid and wet like summer has never left. It’s nothing like here. “How do your people live like this?” he grumbles to Katsuki as they push their way through a foot of snow and harsh biting wind with their caravan.

It’s several more miles still before they make it to Frostmountain, the heartland of the northern passage, but Izuku already feels like a walking block of frozen over ice. It makes him feel so helpless and weak when the rest of the Northerners are barely fazed by the harsh conditions.

“We don’t.” Katsuki snorts, riding beside him. “We survive and we thrive.” He pauses and turns toward Izuku. “They will be your people too,” he points out. “And you too will learn to survive and thrive like us.”

He spoke with such an unshattered certainty that when Izuku’s breath is stolen again, it’s not from the cold this time around but it is Katsuki’s words that had left him breathless.

When they finally arrived at Frostmountain, a fortress of unsurprising large stature and presence that easily looms menacingly over them, Izuku finds the Northerners look upon his strange green hair and the freckles that dotted across his skin with curious but unwelcoming eyes.

Izuku pulls to a stop at the iron gate of the castle, his feet unwilling to move another step. Ahead of him, Katsuki also stop dead when he notice Izuku wasn’t there next to him anymore. He looks back with a frown and Izuku shakes his head. He sighs and walks back toward him.

Without a word, he takes Izuku’s hand in his and squeezes it firmly as Izuku’s breath hitches at the touch, before dragging him through the entrance.

“I can walk,” he snaps with flushed cheeks. This is so unsightly to be drag along like a disobedient child. “Please unhand me, Your Highness.”

“Will you.” Katsuki’s feet halts just as crowd titters on with curious interest at the theatrical scene they must have made, but he hasn’t let go of Izuku’s hand.

Izuku blinks at the hanging question. “Yes?”

“Stand with me,” he grunts out. “We can do this together or I can do it alone. Your choice.”

Izuku’s gaze drops to their held hand, the grip is tight but he knows if he wanted to he can break it. Katsuki has always given him that choice since he’d offered his hand out to Izuku five years ago. Take it or leave it. It would always be his to decide.

In the years since they’d met, Izuku learned that while Katsuki is neither a gentle or humble man, but he’s ambitious and honor bound; he won’t break Izuku to make him bend to his will. It’s unfair that he hasn’t made any promise, but the walls surrounding Izuku’s heart is already starting to crack under the weight of Katsuki’s conviction.

Izuku bites down on his lips, quelling the anxiety that had twisted itself into a knot in his chest, and nods his head. Nearly went unseen, Katsuki releases a small exhale of relief that draws Izuku’s attention to him.

So Izuku wasn’t the only one shaken after all. That’s comforting to know.

It’s easy to forget that they’re both only fifteen years old and neither had signed up for this marriage that had made Izuku depart from the only home he’d ever known and for Katsuki to take in a stranger from a foreign land to his bed who share none of his people’s customs and history.

They’re children playing in a game of politics meant for adults and even then no one should have their fate played like that, but all children grow up one day. That means Katsuki will become king one day and Izuku is to stand by his side to support him. Will stand by his side until his dying breath. It is his duty as his husband.

They may not have chosen this marriage, but this is what they have decided now. Each other. Neither had ever spoken up about their unavoidable situation, because they’re young and dumb. A relationship is already hard enough as adults, let alone two young men who had zero experience in it before each other.

But what couldn’t be put into many clumsy words, they had let it translate through other ways. Katsuki made an effort to visit him every summer since they’d first met and he brought with him several books - a bestiary and herbology tome of the North. Izuku had dutifully read each and every one of them, treating them like sacred knowledge.

There were no big gestures and sweeping romance between them; Izuku wasn’t wooed and Katsuki didn’t pursue him. They are both a guarantee thing for each other even if their feelings didn’t carried any weight. Yet. But Katsuki had extended a hand out and Izuku had gingerly taken it.,That was enough for both of them.

So Izuku lets Katsuki’s lead him into the castle and he tries to put on his warmest smile for Katsuki’s, no, their people. It spreads across his face a little uneasy, but it feels true. Feels right at this moment. It’ll be okay. He has Katsuki after all. Katsuki won’t let him mess up.

Eleven days later Izuku got married in a sweeping red, his braids pinned up in the style of the north, and wore a crown made of the hardest metal mined in the northern mountains. He left the Southern Lands as Izuku of House Midoriya, but now he steps toward Katsuki as one of his own.

Three years after he’d discarded his past and stepped toward his future, the South comes roaring back into his life and brought the threat of war to the foot of Frostmountain. Katsuki is the king to be, but his parents were there before him. This wasn’t to be his fight yet.

If Katsuki’s parents had their way there would be no war in the foreseeable future, so Queen Mitsuki and her consort travels to the Southern Lands to resolve the border dispute with the promise to return in two months’ time when everything is concluded; they never came back.

There wasn’t even a body sent back for them to properly mourn and bury. Not that they have time for that either because Katsuki is proclaimed High King of the North in a solemn coronation five days later after the news of his parents’ death. Izuku stands beside him the entire time.

Katsuki didn’t allow himself to even grief properly as he mobilizes his troops and the other lords of the other Houses of the North. But in the darkness of their bedroom, he breaks down in front of Izuku and Izuku takes his grief and bears all of his sorrow and hurt.

This is his privilege alone. Nobody else can see their king fall apart like this.

Izuku doesn’t tell him that everything will be alright, because it won’t be. War had finally come to them and there are always casualties in war, even for winners. They can only mitigate it.

“Three days from now we’ll march south,” Katsuki tells him, curling his arms tighter around Izuku. “You’ll stay here.”

His hand stills where it was stroking Katsuki’s hair earlier. “I want to go with you,” he insists. The thought of Katsuki going anywhere alone petrified him.

They’d already lost Katsuki’s parents to the South and now Katsuki will advance to the heart of it in order crush it, but that itself may be a futile effort. The North is a frozen fortress, but their people are few and sparse. They’re easily outnumbered by the North’s wealth and armies.

There always been conflict on this continent. The south, with the highest density of population and the most advance technology, is always on cusps of invading them, while the South, a monument to the old ways, remains resilience against such threat. The Northerners are free spirit and independent people and they do not bow to the Southern’s might.

But greed continues to pushed the Southerners to turn their eyes North for the abundance of mines and untamed territories. Izuku, the son of the Keeper of the Hand of the Southern Lands, was married to only son of the High King of the North was meant to keep that hunger at bay in this lifetime but their desire could not be extinguished.

They continue to yearn for the rich resources and vastness of the north, but the people here are hardy and unbending as the mountains they had settled on. They kneel to no king but their own; they’ll have no other but Katsuki. Izuku will have no other but Katsuki.

“No, you can’t come with me. Who else will protect this land when I’m gone?” He lifts his head toward Izuku, his familiar hand reaching toward Izuku’s face to caress it. “I’ll be back though,” his vows adamantly to Izuku. “So make sure there is place for me to come back to.”

Izuku nods somberly and leans into Katsuki’s touch, lips kissing callous palm that had never shy from hardship. “Write to me every week at least,” he requests. “If I can’t be with you then I don’t want to you suffer alone. Tell me about your troubles and burdens. Let me bear it too. Promise me,” he urges. It’s Izuku’s only selfish request.

Katsuki stares at him, eyes heated with a hunger that is deep seeded, and Izuku lets himself be swallow up as he drags Izuku down for a kiss that scorched him to the bones. "I promise. I fucking promise you this,” he answers.

Three days later, Katsuki is set to leave with his soldiers as he’d said. Izuku gives him one last kiss goodbye before he departs to the southern lands.  "I’ll find my way back to you,” Katsuki says, eyes burning with determination that could have move the entire world. “So wait for me.”

“I will,” Izuku answers him urgently like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “I will.”

It may be the last time some of them will ever see their loved ones again but, for Izuku, he has no doubt Katsuki will keep his words.He will come back to Izuku. Tomorrow. Weeks. Months. Even years and Izuku will still wait for him.

With a burning hope in his heart, every week he waits in one of the castle’s courtyard for large eagle owl to land, bringing with him Katsuki’s letters just as he’d promised. It’s never long or full of sentiments, but it offers Izuku immense comfort and relief. He’s alright.

He rereads each letter by candlelight every night before sleep, carefully combing over each word like he can find traces of his husband in them. It keeps his hope alight until one day, a year into this bloody war, Katsuki’s letters abruptly stop.

Izuku won’t find out the reason till several weeks later when a messenger brought news of the legion Katsuki was leading had been wiped out in Khro and he’d disappeared – declared missing, because they couldn’t locate his body. Missing is a kinder word than dead, but it might as well hold the same weight.

Now, the only thing holding the tattered remains of the north together is Izuku. He doesn’t cry then. Instead he calls upon his advisors and make provisions and plans for a war he’s about to wage. The South was his home for fifteen years, but now it had gutted his heart and made an enemy out of him; Izuku will take no prisoner.

Only when Izuku manages to relieve himself from a tense meeting with his war council that he locked himself in his, their, bedchamber and lets the tears fall. He’d promised Katsuki that he’ll only cry in front of him and this is promise he’ll keep, curling in their bed and holding out for the ghost of Katsuki that he can’t seem let go of.

That night he’d cried all night long but by the next morning his eyes are dried, never letting his people know the truth of his grief. There’s a war to win and an entire northern territory to save, because there must be a place for Katsuki return to one day. Katsuki is alive, Izuku believes, because Katsuki won’t ever break his promise to him and it is that promise that keeps him going.

Chapter Text

Izuku is currently standing at the precipice of childhood. Like all highborn omegas before him, at the age of eighteen he’s presented to high society as an adult in a large social gathering designed to just pick him apart to see what he’s made out; UA is not made for weak and simpering omegas. They must punch their way into adulthood, and do it as gracelessly and bloodlessly as possible.

This is his debut, but more than that it is him laying claim to his candidacy for the most ruthless and bloody crown in the entire galaxy, the Chrysanthemum Throne. He’s Izuku of the Thousands Houses, one of the nine candidates for the crown and he’s currently alone. Wretchedly alone.

Izuku curls his trembling hands into a fist to still it and tries to ignore the growing whispers surrounding him from the other debutantes and their escort at his predicament. For a highborn omega, their debut is supposed to be one of the grandest nights of their life accompanied by a chosen alpha partner, but Izuku’s apparent lack of one is ripe with scandal.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be Bakugou—?” someone asks. “Aren’t they womb mate?”

“I heard he’d escaped to Iona V just to avoid being Midoriya’s escort,” another answers.

“How embarrassing.” A giggle. “And he’s a Candidate? Absurd.”

“If he can’t even keep his alpha chained to his side than what use is he.”

“Our great UA Empire would fall apart within a solar cycle if he ever sit on the throne.” A hum of agreement rises through the gossiping crowd as Izuku’s nails dig into his palm with every passing word from their chattering mouth.

He doesn’t defend himself. Couldn’t do it even if he wanted to. After all Katsuki did choose to leave the Core System after Izuku had asked him to be his escort for his debut. He didn’t even give Izuku a reply then, but his silence and disappearance said everything he didn’t quite say.

What can Izuku expect when out of all nine Candidates, he is the only one from a Thousand House and not a single a Thousand House Candidate from the past had ever laid come close to sitting on the throne until All Might had come along that is, but that’s a secret he’ll take to his grave.

The Chrysanthemum Throne has always been rule by one of the Ten Ruling Houses. All Might was the sole exception and not the rule; even then his true roots were erased by the last Regina, who had adopted him into one of the Ruling House, Shimura; his secret remains hidden from the populace.

Izuku is one of the few who knows because he was handpicked as a Candidate for the throne by Toshinori Yagi, sobriquet: All Might – the Regina of UA, the most powerful omega in the galaxy. Raised under his tutelage since Izuku was eight, he is expected of many great things but he hadn’t lived up to any of it.

Izuku had stood alone all evening and watched one by one as the other debutante is escorted out of the waiting room and be introduced to the crowd of awaiting nobility in the Grand Hall, welcoming them to the ranks of adulthood. It’s far less ceremonial than it seems but more a display of power, of which omega has the best alpha with the highest pedigree as their escort?

The star of the show may be the omega debutante, but the alpha is the centerpiece on their arm. A good alpha can make or break their debut, because omegas are bred to rule but alphas fight to make it a reality.

As long as an omega has the support of a strong alpha of good breeding, a warlord in the making, they can even shoot for the moon and become the new Regina, the head of an ever expanding galactic empire that stretched across several quadrants.

The path Izuku was meant to walk with Katsuki.

On a snowy trodden ground of a far flung icy planet, Izuku had watched the only home he’d ever known went up in flame – the life of a Candidate were always as fleeting and short as a whiff of a candle – and Katsuki had fallen to his knees, swearing that Izuku will never have another reason to cry; he’ll make a ruler out of him. It was a promise made in blood.

Now, it seems Izuku is the only one who can even remember anything from that blood red night anymore, kept that promise tight to his chest like it’s mating vow that one day Katsuki will fulfilled. Perhaps it was all a lie in the first place, but Katsuki is no liar. He’d probably just changed his mind, Izuku thinks dejectedly.

Insecurity once again sinks its claws into him, and Izuku has to shake it off with a harsh slap to his face that surprises everyone in the area. “You’re fine. You’re going to be okay, Izuku,” he tells himself.

“What is he even doing?” someone demands, aghast. “Has he gone completely mad?”

His cheeks sting, but he feels more awake and less weighted down now even as the whispers around him get more aggressive and vitriol. Somehow, Izuku knows, that by the end of tonight there’s going to even be more rumors spread about him.

But even without Katsuki, he can handle it. After all, he can’t always rely on Katsuki to fight his battle. Especially now that Katsuki had made it clear where he stand with Izuku. If he wants something, he must grab it for himself and he may not amount to much but he plasters on his prettiest smile at them, daring them to continue.

The group all blinks at his brazenness, quietly looking away and closes rank around each other as though Izuku is something to for them fear. It’s one thing to talk to him like he’s vermin in their midst as though he wasn’t there, it’s another to say it to his face, the one who has the backing of the current Regina.

He’s the only Candidate to reach eighteen this quarter and by that etiquette he’s to go last. All the other omegas who’d gone before him were from the Hundred Houses, greater noble houses compare to his own, but he’s a Candidate and that afford him far more privilege than them.

They’d mocked and teased him earlier because for a moment he’d show his belly to them, but he can’t forget who he is and what he stands for. If he to rule over all them one day, he can’t show any weakness in front of them or they’ll eat him alive.

Katsuki had taught him that.

So he raises his head and keeps his arms firm by his side as he waits for his turn to be presented while keeping a close eye on the rest of the debutante and their escorts, not letting them even have any room to breathe without escaping the pressure of his scrutiny.

There are still six more debuts to go before his turn, and Izuku doesn’t drop his guard for a second.

“Midoriya,” he hears someone call out to him, and he turns toward the voice to see two familiar figures making their way toward him. It’s Todoroki and Yaoyorozu.

He gives them a small bow as they return his greeting with their own. “What are you doing here?” he asks. Neither Todoroki and Yaoyorozu are part of tonight’s debut. Todoroki Shouto is an alpha of the Todoroki Hundred House, and Yaoyorozu Momo is a Candidate who won’t debut till the last quarter of this solar cycle. Neither has any reason to be here instead of out there in the Grand Hall with everyone else.

“Did you find someone to escort you yet?” Todoroki says, frowning. “If you haven’t, I don’t mind doing walking you down the hall.”

Yaoyorozu’s friendly smile abruptly freezes and her eyes narrow ever so slightly at Izuku, daring him to accept. She and Izuku are allies, but not necessary friends because they’re both Candidates. While Izuku was chosen by All Might, Yaoyorozu was born into it; born to rule. As the member of one of the Ten Ruling Families and a prized omega, she’s one of the leading Candidates for the throne. What that basically means is that Izuku and Yaoyorozu are competitors.

While she isn’t necessary outright cruel or a scheming liar out to backstab him as soon as his back is turn like other Candidates Izuku had met, because Yaoyorozu is actually as kind as she portrays to be but Izuku can never forget that one doesn’t get to this point without stepping on a few toes, drawing some blood, and piling on corpses. After all there are nine Candidates but only one crown, and they equally want it badly enough. It all depends on how far they’re willing to commit to the crown.

They may be allies today, but who knows what tomorrow would bring and that is why when Todoroki, who Yaoyorozu had long claimed as her champion even if Todoroki hasn’t realize it, cannot favor another omega before her.

It’ll be Izuku’s death sentence to accept.

Izuku shakes his head. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine on my own,” he tells Todoroki.

Todoroki stills look concern, but Yaoyorozu’s smile relaxes itself and her expression softens just enough that Izuku can feel the sharp edge of her gaze refocus back on Todoroki.

He isn’t mad at her about it. Any omega with any common sense would defend their territory from other omega for all their worth. If this was Katsuki and Izuku was on the other side, he would have had a knife to her throat before she can even utter the next word.

Alpha wages war on the field for conquest, honor, and prestige but omega only ever fight for two things and two things only: to rule and the right to mate with their chosen alpha in order to secure their seed of their future. Mating is the omega’s battleground and they do not lose. Losing might as well be akin to death for them.

“Are you sure—” Todoroki says, but Yaoyorozu lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it just enough to steal his attention. It’s a calculative gesture.

“If Midoriya insists he’s fine, we shouldn’t push anymore or we’ll be belittling his effort,” she says, looking at Izuku. “Isn’t that right?” There’s a smile on her face, but her eyes hold no warmth for him.

Todoroki is a sweet and thoughtful friend. A good alpha overall and it would take great omega to tame him, but not Izuku. So he backs up to put some distance between him and the pair.

“Thank you for understanding,” he tells Yaoyorozu, then his eyes flicker back to Todoroki, who remains steadfast oblivious to the underlying tension between two omegas vying for the attention of an alpha.

Izuku couldn’t blame him, after all this is different kind of battlefield. A much more subtle and bloodless one, but a single careless action can cost you everything. On here they trade bullets for sharpened words ad their only injury is only to their pride, but a loss is paramount to losing their future. The battles that omega fight just as important and vital as the wars that alpha lead; only the best breeding stock for the future of the empire.

“Don’t worry about me,” Izuku says with a placating grin.

Todoroki sighs, finally accepting his defeat. “We’ll leave you to to it then,” he says. “Good luck, Midoriya.”

“See you in the Grand Hall,” Yaoyorozu adds, before taking Todoroki by the hand and leads him out.

Izuku is once again alone and he’s not the only one who’d noticed it. There are only a handful of people left in the waiting room now, and they all looked at him pitifully like he’d just lost another viable lifeline in Todoroki. “Do you need something?” Izuku coolly asks the group.

They flinch and abruptly pretend to find an interest in each other as Izuku exhales. It’s not easy to remain guarded at all times. The time pass by quickly enough that the next he knows he’s truly alone at last, not a single soul in sight. All the others had already gone.

“Candidate Midoriya?” the usherer asks him, stepping forward. “It’s time.”

Izuku puts a hand on his chest and breathes, gathering every bit of his courage he can muster before saying, “Yes.”

The usherer frowns, looking pass him for something. A very important something that he is missing. “Is there nobody else with you?”

“No, it’s just me,” he says firmly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

The usherer flushes. “No, my lord Candidate. Please follow me then.”

He leads Izuku through the long narrow hallway of the castle, until they arrive at a giant wooden double door that easily dwarfs them. “Are you ready, my lord?”

Izuku clenches and unclenches his hand before nodding.

The door is pushed open and the usherer’s voice booms through the Grand Hall: “The Imperial High Society welcomes Midoriya Izuku of the Thousands Houses into its warm bosom and may greatness grace his future and beyond in service of our great empire.”

The applaud that follows is deafening, but the moment Izuku steps through the doorway and forward into the hall – opening up a high ceiling above him of a projected swirled of starry sky – it quickly slows into a confused death.

“Alone?” he hears, a high pitch outrage. “Where is his escort?”

“He’s a Candidate! Does he have no shame?!” A scoff. “Shouldn’t have even come in the first place.”

Izuku doesn’t let their callous but truthful words touch him. He walks down the long parted path with crowds of nobility on both side eyeing with scrutiny, like they’re about to tear into him if he’s not careful.

Finally, he reaches where the other debutantes and their escort are, line up in a straight line in the center circle.

He bows to the Master of Ceremony, who coughs awkwardly at Izuku’s disgraceful state that had caused a such ruckus among them with just his sole appearance. “May the First Dance of this evening begin with the debutantes and their partner taking the floor,” he announces to the room at large.

Izuku freezes as soon as the words hit him. How could he even forget that all the debutantes are required to share one dance with their partner at the beginning of the evening?! It’s the most important act of the night, and Izuku had let it slipped through his head like an amateur.

He’d worried so much about being presented and walked into the Grand Hall by himself that he didn’t even consider what it mean to be standing there alone as all the other debutantes pair up with their partners on the dance floor.

Humiliation doesn’t even begin to encompass it.

He can put on a brave front and walk himself down, but even he realize can’t dance unaccompanied as he watches other debutantes take to the floor with their partner and music floods the entire room; Izuku stands alone on his island of solitude as a stab of longing hits him.

The Grand Hall lights up with various ongoing conversations, the music of the orchestra, and the laughter draw from the lips of the party-goers. With no company next to him and partner to dance with, Izuku is sequestered away in a corner, left to his own and forgotten by the mass.

It’s meant to one of the most important nights of his life. His entire childhood was leading to the moment of his debut, onto the stage of high society as an adult, but because of his own inadequacies and folly, he has becomes a wallflower at his own party.

Izuku’s hands twist in front of him.

It’s grim, but Izuku holds on. The odds have always been stacked against him, borne into a lower noble house with no connection and aid, he had to laid the foundation of his own support just to stand equal with the other Candidates. Izuku doesn’t get to live his life, but had to survive it.

All Might cannot make him the next Regina, Izuku must seize it for himself. It’s the Flower Game – a bloody cutthroat competition that cut down the Candidates one by one till there is only one left standing. All Might did it before him, so had his predecessor and so on. The line of Regina is drenched in blood and paved by the bodies of those fallen souls whose sacrificed reinforced the position of the most powerful omega in the galaxy. One is not born into it, but is systematically chosen by conquest and the unbending will to have it all.

Izuku, with his awkwardness, doesn’t fit the image of their fierce Regina, the mother of the Empire, but what he obviously lack he hungers instead. All Might had once said to him, “To stand at the top, one must want to be there because to step back even for a moment, you lose.”

And so, even as Izuku stands at the bottom he’s always looking up, hungry for what it may offer him. It’s something he’d dreamed with Katsuki, side by side, together they’ll bring this entire empire down to its knees; the Regina and his Champion. Like All Might and Todoroki Enji before him.

The Regina rules from the high seat of the Chrysanthemum Throne, the beating heart of the empire that keeps it moving, but even they can’t do everything. The Champion exists as an extension of the Regina, as his sword to point outward at his enemies and as his shield to stand close and protect him.

That’s why every Candidates will have to pick their cCampion one day, an alpha who will pledge absolute loyalty to them and only to them. It’s the kind of bond that stories are made of, if one is romantically inclined to think like that. Izuku had used to and still does in many ways thinks of that for him and Katsuki.

Now, he’s gazing down at the floor and waiting for the dance to end and for the ground to swallow him completely. Izuku may have been caught in his daydream of them together, but Katsuki was looking another way. Maybe this is sign that he should—

“Don’t think anything stupid.”

There’s a shadow looming over him, but what makes his hear race is the rough cadence of—of, “Kacchan!” he yells, jerking his head up to meet the scowling and haggard face of his heart’s desire even as Katsuki looks so worn out and beaten up like he’d just gotten out of a fight with someone’s fist. “Are you alright?” he asks, stepping forward as concern thickens his voice.

Katsuki’s scowl deepens. “I’m fucking fine,” he retorts, grabbing hold of Izuku and drags him away from his little undisrupted corner, straight toward the dance floor where all the other debutantes and their partners are.

The crowd quickly takes notice of Katsuki pushing his way through them with Izuku reluctantly in tow. He even catches the familiar faces of some of their friend who gives him a grin of encouragement even though Izuku is so terribly confused. How and why is Katsuki even here?! Now of all time!

“Kacchan, please! What are you—?!” he cries out, shaking his head hopelessly. “I was waiting for you, but you didn’t come so I thought—” He bites down his lip as tears blur his vision. He doesn’t tell of the humiliation he had to endure and loneliness that had suffocated him.

Katsuki stops abruptly and Izuku almost collides with him, but he catches Izuku’s fall in time and before Izuku can even gather his wits, Katsuki drops to his knees in front of him –  in front of the entire room as all eyes descend on them.

The gasp that leaves Izuku echoes everyone’s else.

“I, Bakugou Katsuki, swear upon the throne in blood and soul and as long as my body allow, I pledge my everything to you,” Katsuki says, voice solemn but fierce as the wolf sigil that flies on the banner of his House. It’s an oath of absolute loyalty made from a Champion to his Regina.

But coming from Katsuki whose face Izuku has to look down upon, there’s not a single trace of obedience and submission in the lines of his body, in the defiance of his face, and the fire in his eyes. It’s the face of a wolf who holds his prey in its jaw, but vowing to not eat it.

And even when he’s bruised, dirty, and on his knees he’s still the most terrifyingly and wretchedly beautiful thing Izuku had ever seen. His heart trembles at the sight even as confusion and doubt squeezes his chest. “You don’t mean that,” he croaks out. Didn’t Katsuki reject him earlier? Left him planetside so he can run off to feed blood thirst?  

He’d choose to leave Izuku behind so he can go to fight on some outer system just so he doesn’t have to be stuck escorting Izuku to his debut ball. Isn’t that what had happened?! “Please, please don’t tease me,” he begs. Izuku wouldn’t be able to take it if, if—

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki growls, steering Izuku’s increasing panic toward him. “Do I look like I’m the type make a fucking joke like that?!” He grumbles, annoyed as he rummages through his pants pocket and pulls out the ugliest piece of rock Izuku had ever seen.

It has rough, uneven edges with a scorched surface and fits just in the palm of Katsuki’s hand. “Here,” he says, handing Izuku’s the rock.

Izuku blinks even as he takes it. What is he even supposed to do with it?

Katsuki frowns. “It’s a rock from Iona V’s homeworld. I found it and now it’s yours.”

Izuku blinks again, fisting the rock in his hand and Katsuki sighs. “Iona V is an independent outer system rich in resources and land, but the people are resoundingly stupid even after I brought the entire fleet of 444st Legion on top of them.”

He scrubs his badly-need-to-be-comb hair furiously. “I was late for your debut because I was securing Iona V’s total surrender. This is my proof of that and now this rock is yours and so is Iona V,” he says, like that revelation isn’t going to shift Izuku’s entire world.

Bakugou Katsuki of the Hundred Houses — the only son of Warlord Mitsuki, the Wolf Queen and Head of the 444st Legion, one of the mightiest armadas of the Empire, making a pledge to Izuku, would mean everything that belongs to Katsuki and will be Katsuki’s will also be his.

Izuku wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. A homeworld and seven colonies of Iona V as a starting courting gift; Bakugou Katsuki truly never does anything by halves, not even when he was breaking Izuku’s heart all over the floor of this castle, only to fixed it with a conquest of an entire solar system.

Izuku is so in love with this heartless man that he’s sick with it. “Kacchan,” he cries out, holding the rock against his chest like it’s the only thing that is holding him up. “Thank you, thank you. I accept it.”

Katsuki stares at him for a moment. Then he breathes out, body relaxing finally. “Okay, okay,” he says, the first crack of his indestructible armor of confidence is finally shown for Izuku to see. “Give me your hand then.”

As he extends his free hand for Katsuki, he slaps it away with a glare. “Your other hand, dumbass,” he says pointedly, looking at the hand that is clutching the rock, no, the courting’s gift, closely.

"Oh, oh,” Izuku says, eyes wide.

As per their tradition to seal the pledge, Izuku must let Katsuki kiss the back of his hand, so Izuku switches the rock to his right hand. With heart palpitating against his chest, he gives Katsuki’s his left hand and Katsuki holds it in his palm, but he doesn’t kiss it.

Instead Katsuki grabs Izuku’s fourth finger, slips it into his wet mouth, and bites down hard on the end, enough to cut through skin and leaves a deep rivet of red behind. Izuku winces, but doesn’t withdraw his hand even though it hurts, it hurts so, so much because Katsuki remembers. He remembers.

Izuku, who has always been enchanted by Ancient Terra’s history and traditions, had set his young heart on the idea of exchanging rings in the Old Ways. Something their people had long considered obsolete, but Katsuki had listened then and still remembers now.

This isn’t a ring, but it’s a close enough.

Katsuki finally releases his finger, his teeth bloody and his face feral with a victorious grin as he stands up. He doesn’t even bother wiping away Izuku’s blood smear from his mouth, this madden and wild man who absolutely and ruthlessly lay claims to Izuku’s heart. “Let’s go,” he declares. “We got a First Dance to do.”

It’s late and the music had already stopped playing because of Katsuki, deciding that moment to throw the ball into complete chaos with his declaration and making Izuku the one and only future Regina he’ll ever serve for all to see, leaving the crowd fascinated and appalled by their action tonight.

But he doesn’t stop Katsuki, just follows him to the floor because the thing is: he didn’t choose Katsuki as his Champion to become the next Regina; he wants to become the next Regina so he can have Katsuki as his Champion. After all, Katsuki doesn’t settle and neither does Izuku.

Chapter Text

As Izuku makes his way down the steps of the main staircase that inhabit foyer of the manor, he says, “I’m ready, my lord.”

At the bottom of it, Katsuki grumbles, “Took you long enough.“ He turns toward the clicks of Izuku’s heels then freezes, staring up at Izuku incredulously. “What the fuck are you wearing?!” he demands heatedly.

Izuku’s steps stop midway to examine his person, carefully passing over his white gloved hands and his sea blue gown. "My gown?” he says slowly, in case Katsuki is confused. “Or do you prefer I meet your parents in nothing but my underthings? Even I’m not that bold, my lord.”

Katsuki sputters in outrage, a red stain rising from to his cheeks and creeps it way toward the rest of his face. “I mean, why are you wearing a gown?” he hisses. “I have only seen you in kimonos since you’d arrived in Tokyo.”

He’s not wrong, but, “I’m adapting to the style here,” says Izuku.

The British’s influence in fashion and lifestyle had quickly swept across Japan in the last thirty years, but while the cities like Tokyo was quick to westernized, the countryside is ever slow to change and so was Izuku. He’d worn little to no gowns until now.

But the city’s omega are fashionable and daring, they’re always experimenting on new styles and make it their own. Izuku can’t fall behind if he’s remain by Katsuki as his husband. A future duke’s spouse has to stay ahead of the society and not be trailing behind just to play catch up with the rest.

Izuku may prefer the refinement and elegance of his kimonos – on his wedding day he’d even worn his mother’s and grandfather’s much loved red floral kakeshita that had been passed down their family for generations – but he can learn to love these western fashions too.

“Is there a problem with my selection of this evening’s wear? I thought you didn’t want me to embarrass you?” Izuku presses amusingly. It didn’t bother him what others think, but it did bother him if Katsuki is of the opinion that he’s a backwards country bumpkin who can’t adapt.

“I can see your ankles!” Katsuki spits out, gesturing wildly toward Izuku’s feet. “And you’re not even wearing any stockings! Your legs are bare,” he finishes with such a highly scandalized and traumatized tone that Izuku almost laugh but he doesn’t, because that would make Katsuki even angrier; however, funny it actually is.

Izuku reaches for the bannister to steady himself as he kicks his right foot out. “My ankles? I had my hemline raised by a few inches as suggested by the seamstress because that’s the popular style right now,” he says, and shakes his apparently indecent foot just for emphasis.

He went out with Lady Mina several weeks ago to shop for new garments to fill his wardrobe. Next to Lady Mina, who wears her hair light and short and gowns that reached to her knees, Izuku feels like a washed out imitation in comparison her more flashy statement piece; a weed standing beside a camellia.

The omegas here are bold, but the women are even bolder.

Izuku isn’t particularly brave. He even had to stand in front of the mirror to psyche himself up to wear his gown for this evening soiree. The strangeness of having his ankles exposed was something he had to quickly get over. When he’d asked Lady Mina for advice in seducing Izuku’s prickly husband, her eyes had crinkled in amusement and she said, he should use his best ‘asset’ whatever that actually meant.

Izuku isn’t much, he knows. He’s not as fun and interesting like Lady Mina, who easily has all of Katsuki’s attention even if they’re just close friends. He’s boring and old fashioned, bound up in duty and priorities, but he loves Katsuki fiercely enough try to meet him halfway.

He wants to impress Katsuki, to let him know that Izuku isn’t a simpering wallflower that Katsuki can easily push aside and ignore; he’s Katsuki’s husband and there will be no other beside him. Izuku takes his vow very, very seriously, he’ll have to remind Katsuki of that.

“And just because I wear no stockings doesn’t mean I’m completely bare, my lord,” Izuku continues with an eye roll, picking up the skirt of his gown and raises it high enough to show his husband the drawers he’s wearing.

Katsuki’s eyes bulge out and he races up the stairs in such haste that he nearly trip over his feet.

Izuku doesn’t even have time to brace himself before Katsuki is right there in front of him, standing one step lower but still embarrassingly able to meet him eye to eye and breathing so heavily that’s he quivering with anger.

Izuku quickly drops his skirt, hands falling to his side.

But Katsuki doesn’t even let Izuku have a moment gather his bearings at Katsuki’s sudden presence before he has both his arms around Izuku, forceful fingers digging deep into the cinch of his waist that leaves Izuku gasping at the pressure of his touch can be felt through the fabrics.

“M-my lord,” he barely manage to says, before Katsuki grunts and pulls down Izuku’s skirt as much it can go as though that would be enough to hide Izuku’s ankles from other people’s prying eyes. He doesn’t let Izuku go even after that; his palms, a hot brand against Izuku, hold him completely in place.

“Deku,” he grits out, eyes flashing dark with intent, “I will only say this once and once only, but if you ever lift up your skirt for anyone but me to see what’s underneath it I’ll fucking gorge their eyes out. Do I make myself clear to you?”

Izuku swallows. “Y-yes,” he breathes. Head in dizzying warmth and body tingling at their close proximity.  

Katsuki withdraws his hands then but there’s a light quiver to them like they had touched something they shouldn’t. “Good,” he says gruffly, tucking those trembling hands behind him even as his voice remains strong and firm. “Let’s go then.” He clears his throat. “I’ll meet you outside.”

He leaves Izuku standing there still trying to catch his breath. The ghost of Katsuki’s touch on his waist lingers and burns through the layer of cottons and his underthings as though he’d touched Izuku’s bare skin, mapping out all the unknown territories and laying claim to him.

Shaking himself out of it, he croaks out, “Do I disturb you, my lord?”

With his back still turn, Katsuki stops at the last step. For a moment, cutting silence descends upon them, then, resolutely, “No,” he says, but the tip of his ears are red and that says more than his word allow. “And stop flashing your damn ankles everywhere! You don’t need to fucking show it off to people!”

He all but runs out of the room like the devil’s is on his heels, leaving Izuku just barely be able to stand up from the revelation that he’d managed to cracked the impregnable defense of his prideful and arrogant husband. And all Izuku had to do was flashed his ankles at him.

He drops down on the step with his hands covering his face and the smile threatening to break out. There’s hope yet for him, because this is still his war to win.

Chapter Text

The day before Izuku leave for the Empire, he walks out into the open grassland and kneels before his gods — the land where he stands, the air in which he breathes, and the sky that hangs above him — praying for a safe journey and for courage, so that he would not look back when he depart.

Izuku is not the first, nor will he be the last, Eien princeling to be offer to the gaping jaw of the Empire. His Second Sister had her ship capsized, his Fourteen Brother and his caravan got swallowed up by a sandstorm, and his Twenty-Nine Brother lost his life to an intended blade going for his head.

Izuku had watched with numb silence as countless Eien princes and princesses had either come back home alive but broken in some way or don't come back at all.

The Krol of the Great Grassland has numerous wives to lie with and even more numerous children to give up. Izuku is the Ninety-nine Prince of Eien and the nineteen sacrificial lamb overall to the Empire. His prospect does not look good, but Izuku didn't survive this long to adulthood to die on foreign soil.

So he prays to his gods, but arms himself with a smile on his face and a dagger in his boot.

Sent off with twelve trunks of clothes, a treasure trove of jewelries from his father, a troop of guards to protect him, and ten handmaidens to tend to his needs, but none of it matter except for his vial of his mother’s ashes and an old journal that hopefully will keep him occupied in the month’s long journey.

Not to be outdone, and face with the prospect of losing another Eien prince to some ridiculous rumor of a curse spread about their crown prince being impossible to wed, they'd sent a retinue of the Empire's best knights to ensure Izuku will arrive at their doorstep alive and whole.

It's a long and arduous journey ahead for Izuku and only a few of his siblings had made it through, but he didn't survive this long in his father's harem and countless assassination attempts and sabotages from the other wives for him to lose his life here and now.

Izuku is soft, prone to tears and delicate in the ways that often make his father frown, and therefore wasn't Father's first, second, nor third choice to be wed out to the Empire, but with his mother gone and while Father is kind and loves him deeply, he has a hundred of other children to dote on – Izuku chose to venture across the sea to start anew.

Izuku is not skill in military arts, stately affairs, or is he talented in the ways of spycraft and saboteur; he lives in the library with his head stuck in the books, combing through pages and pages of ancient tomes of long forgotten empires and riveting legacies of conquerors. If he has his way, he'll die a quiet and easily forgettable death among his father’s people, being the Nine-nine Eien Prince is good enough fate for someone as simple as him with no ambition or duty to be had, but his mother's last words to him still ring in his ears before the sickness took her from his arms.

"Before I was your Father’s wife, I was born across the Grand Abyss and within the Empire’s grip, there exist kingdom that no longer exist, its people scattered to the winds, and its history and culture ravaged by raiders. It was my home. It was your home,” she had said to him on her deathbed. “I wish for you to go there one day and laid me to rest among the ashes of my mother and father and all that I had lost.”  

Izuku is not beautiful, strong, or particularly interesting at all, but he’s a dutiful son and he has a promise to fulfill.

So he leaves the land of his birth and all the good and miseries of it behind him with the full knowledge that if he's to ever to return it'll be either in casket or as a consort to the Empire; one where ends up as a corpse and the other is bloody path to the crown.

Neither prospect looks good from his end, but he had sworn to his dear mother and he’s so tired of seeing his siblings marched to their deaths, let him bear the burden and dealt his hand at this game of throne; after all he is his mother’s son. 

Lady Inko had come to this land with nothing but the clothes on her back, her quick wits and a keen smile had easily charmed all those around her. She eventually laid claimed to his father’s favor, gave him a child, and kept Izuku alive through various nefarious harem’s plot with no family, power, or wealth to support her. His mother, his gentle mother, had fought hard to make a place for herself and her son in this foreign land; she fought so Izuku can live because one does not leave their name in the history book by being quiet and still. This is the first lesson his mother had taught him after he had nearly died by a poisoning and she had the plotter dragged out and hang for it. His mother is kind but she’s fierce and resilience, she didn’t just survive in this brutal land by the skin of her teeth but thrive.  

And so Izuku had volunteered himself as the next betrothed to the Dragon Prince of the Empire, because this is how stories begin. One step at a time.

He’ll be like his lady mother, a force to be reckoned with. He just prays and prays that he'll be the last and only princeling to be sent to the Empire.

The path he now walks, take him on a month long journey through rough mountain pass, hazardous sand dunes, and dangerous waters. Longer still if they're met by raiders and slavers, unruly weather, and assassination attempts by various ongoing fraction conflicts that had killed more than one of Izuku's siblings.

The captain of his personal guard, Ishidora, is quick to assure him of any lingering fears of the ill-fate of last prince and princesses before him, but Izuku doesn't relax fully not even in the grim presence of the grey cloaked soldiers of the Empire, the Knights of Winter Moon.

Ruling over a third of the western realm, the Empire is a military juggernaut that had long advanced into a blend alchemy and machine — they ride on metal dragons and fly on steel wings — while Izuku's people still weaved magic by blood, sweat, tears, and long forgotten gods of old.

Blessing from gods are powerful, but rare and unpredictable as the whims of all gods are, but the Empire has tamed and shackled magic, made it their own and brutalized it into a weapon to fight their wars. It feels wrong to use something holy in such a way, because the gods may not always be fair but they watch and judge over them.

Wild ancient magic have always rule his people, seeping into the foundation of their land where the gods still whisper words to their ears if they listen hard enough and keeps the Empire at bay, where not even their mighty metal dragons can touch this untamed grassland.

Like the divine land that gave birth to Izuku and his people, he too, will not be conquer by the godless Empire. His gods are always with him, even when Izuku leaves for far, far away soil where their touch feels light and small against the shadow the Empire casts overhead.

This morning like many others, Izuku walks out of his tent, ventures into a clearing where he faces north and kneels on wet ground with clasped hands. He offers up oath and loyalties to his gods. He can't see or can't hear them, but he knows they're there all the same.

"Why beg for scraps from some bodiless spirit when you can just seize everything yourself?

Izuku's head snap to the new voice and he rises unsteadily to his feet to glare at the hooded cloak figure, lingering in the back of him. The hood doesn't go down and the face remains obscure by the shadow of it, but he knows that voice. Hates that voice. "Sir Zero, please don't speak of such offense,” he rebukes.

His wedding procession is made up mostly of his people that are sent with him, but the Knights of Winter Moon are always close at hand, watching and guarding. Izuku may be quiet and easily unremarkable but he's attentive, paying close attention to the strange grey cloak soldiers who will one day be his.

The sun shines upon the Empire just as their Rex does, while the moon support and guide them and the Regina sits high as their emblem. The Knights of Winter Moon serves at the behest of the Regina and if Izuku is to survive he must gain their trust and loyalty.

Since the first time he'd met them, he made effort to reach out and understand them, but they're only coolly receptive if ever careful of the strange prince from a stranger land. It's fine, fidelity are after all hard fought and no battle that are worth fighting for are easy to win.

He knows this. He had watched his mother fought for the allies around her, but it doesn't change the fact that when they were first introduced one knight in particular had made such a sloppy attempt at a respectable bow, a slight nod of his head, as though he was unused to lowering himself that he doesn’t know how to do it; it had irked Izuku.

Such careless disrespectful display.

And he spoke to Izuku with a dismissive tone that made had made him feel ever so small and helpless: "The Ninety-nine Prince, eh?" Sir Zero sneers. "Must be hard for the Krol to remember all those extra kids he got. Does he forget often forget your name too?"

Elbowing Zero to be quiet, the Captain of the Winter Knights was quick to apologize to him for his subordinate’s ill-manners and even as Izuku smiled and smiled in acceptance, anger and hurt easily gave away afterward. They don't care much for him, he knows, probably thinking he too will be cut down before he step a single foot on their land. But he is a prince and Zero is but a lowly knight, so he should not look at Izuku like an overly large cat playing with their food. It's—it's humiliating and dangerous.

"You're so dedicated to your gods that you would fall to your knees on muddy ground to prove yourself," Zero says with a cock of his head. "I wonder if you will show that same kind of devotion to our prince later?"

Izuku flushes. "The manner in which I show devotion to your prince is none of your concern," he says, stumbling forward a little on the uneasy ground that had been a washed by the early morning rain.

They had set up camp the evening before, not knowing it would pour by the time night came round and rain pounded hard against the tents. By morning, the grounds are drenched and muddy, Captain Ishidora had warned Izuku to be careful but Izuku didn’t want to miss his prayer. Not even for rain.

The prayers are led by the rise and fall of the sun and their face turned toward the sky. For the devout the prayers are most sacred and profound in the light of day and with the open sky above up to them, so Izuku had an area cleared out so he can be with his gods alone.

But he is never truly alone, is he? "And stop stalking me!" Izuku continues, annoyed at having his prayer session disrupted by Zero of all people.

"I'm not, it's my duty and don't fucking move," Zero scolds at him, watching Izuku moves uneasily toward him as his boots sink to the ground with every step. The entire ground is wet and muddy and Izuku had barely found a safe patch enough to kneel. "You're going to face plant into the mud and have no one to blame but yourself." 

Izuku huffs indignantly, approaching him with trepidation. Hands swaying in the air as anger makes him blind to the choked hold the mud had on his next step. "I am not going to—!" And he falls, face first.

The grip of the mud is like quick sand that drags him down and down like fallen timber. The next thing he knows he has a face full of it. He coughs out all the dirt clogging his throat and pulls himself up, sitting on his knees. Trying to wipe his face clean, which doesn't help at all because it only smear it around, he glares at the figure before him.

Zero's shoulders are hunched over and he's quivering so hard that his hood fall, but not of fear for himself that he had truly anger a prince, but the shaking of his body is only follow by a loud laughter that rings in Izuku's ears.

It's light and young and so carefree.

Izuku didn't think Zero was capable of making such sound when all he had heard from him were belligerent jabs and annoyed scoffs followed by scowling face as though that was all he's able to do.

It's almost lovely to the ears. Almost.

Zero's grin is mirthful as he moves through the sludge with unfair ease. "Do you need help, Your Highness?" It’s the first respectable thing that come out of his mouth and that makes it even more infuriating.

Izuku's glare deepens even as he feels heat rises to his cheek and has to bite down a scream of embarrassment because looking up at Zero's cocky face, blond hair and red eyes that can cut even glass, he looks so, so beautiful against the light of day when he's victorious and it's a damn shame Izuku hates him for it.

Chapter Text

The day after an UA’s staff had discovered the mangled and half eaten carcass of one of their students, a weasel third year, the campus was in a shutdown for an entire week as they tried to uncover which one of the carni had broken the Accords and became a headhunter.

Every single herb students was warned once, twice, and too many times to never walk the dark street alone after sunset because while the age of active predation had gone in Para-Dice, behind the stone walls of the Savagelands, they still participate in the Hunt.

No herbivore is safe.

Even in one of the most prestigious colleges in the city, where every vores live seemingly in harmony. There’s always an undercurrent of danger between the two very distinct classes because all it take is a swipe of carni’s claw sinking into someone’s flesh and they’re done. The ravenous hunger will take them, turning a friendly lion who one had shared classes and jokes with previously into a famished beast set out to consume your very flesh.

Their society is built on this precarious balancing act. Danger lives in the heart their closest friend.

"Izuku, are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?" Ochako asks for the fifth time already, her white wings contracting anxiously behind her.

Izuku waves her off. "I'm fine," he insists, "my dorm isn't that far from here and if you take me home, who will take you back anyway?"

"I'll get Tenya to walk with us!" Ochako persists. She’s a crane; large wings, a noble and beautiful feature, but they’re mainly omnivore and a gentle soul.

He shakes his head, his long ears swinging with it. "He just fell asleep from cramming for his ochem exam, I really don't want to bother him," he argues. "It's okay. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Ochako bites down on her lower lip. "I just want you to be careful because," she leans in and lowers her voice as though telling a secret, "of the headhunter. It's dangerous right now since they haven't found the vore yet. It'll break my heart if you become another statistic."

"I don't know why anyone would want to eat me, when I don't even taste that good.” Izuku frowns, brows furrowing as he pinches the skin on his arm. "If they were to eat me, they'll just spit me out or maybe they just like the taste of horrible rabbit meat."

Reeling back, Ochako cries out, "Izuku!"

He cracks a smile. "Sorry, sorry!" He laughs, tugging one of his ears down. "I don't mean to joke about it, but you know how I'd lived in the Savagelands before coming here? Well, I'm used to this kind of imminent danger."

Ochako frowns, wings still flapping wildly with every slight movement. "Okay," she says, letting out a long tired sigh, "if you're that sure then." Like, she still isn't used to Izuku's reckless nature that had created such a stir even among their more colorful student populations. Because despite Izuku's herb status and the skittish nature of rabbits overall, Izuku acts like one of the apex predators on their campus—in the likes of wolves and lions, where he moves easily and freely among them as though he was always a part of their class.

He’s bunny herbivore, bred and raised in the curtains of the Savageland, where fear was his constant companion and threat of being eaten had hung over his head every waking second. To live was privilege given only to the strong, powerful, and the ones who hungered. Compare to that, this is easy.

Izuku gives her a thumb up and he quickly grabs his bags and books, making a dash out of her dorm room before she can change her mind. He climbs down the stairs to the first floor and heads toward the exit of Green Leaf Dormitory, one of the only herbivore dorms on campus. Outside the sky is completely blackened with only the full moon and the streetlights to guide him back to his dorm. It's only 9PM on a Thursday but the campus is eerily quiet. The looming danger of a headhunter still running amok keeps most vores locked in their dorm, but Izuku marches on.

On a full moon like this, they say it's when all the wild ones come out. The ominous sounds and shadows that dogged Izuku's steps could be anything from a fallen trashcan, a rustling of the leaves or something else, something dangerous, but Izuku isn't faze by any of it. Strolling his way across a darkened path that isn't as well lit as the more main routes but it cuts his time in half, Izuku hums a familiar song he'd heard in Ochako's dorm room earlier.

It's a love song, light and upbeat in contrasts to the grim setting that surrounds him. Oh, darling we love, love, so tonight we feast like beasts—

Large hands suddenly appear from the shadow to grabs him from behind, causing him to drop his books to the ground. A palm is pressed over his mouth to suppress his scream as the other hand rips his backpack away from him, before latching onto his waist in a forceful grip.

Left defenseless and no direct line of sight to his attacker, Izuku's heart races just for a second before a large sturdy body enveloped his back, head poking over Izuku's shoulder as his breath ghosts Izuku's cheek. He shivers against the familiar warmth and breathes, "K-Kacchan!"

Katsuki spins him around so that they're facing each other properly, his hands never leaving Izuku's waist as green eyes collides with red. "Deku," he says, and it's an entire world in a single word. "You goddamn idiot." His chest rumbles in a low threatening growl.

With the tip of his right ear folding over unhappily at the scolding, Izuku pouts. "I was fine," he insists.

Katsuki glares at him. "There's a wild headhunter on the loose and you're wandering around after dusk like a dumbass with a sign 'eat me' over his fucking head." He grabs one of Izuku's furry ears and tugs it down purposefully. "They said rabbit meat is delicious, you wanna test that out personally?"

Izuku frowns. "You would know that wouldn't you?" he says impishly, meeting Katsuki’s glare with his own. "Taste any bunny boy lately?"

Katsuki's teeth bares, fangs protrudes pass his lips in a snarl that both sends Izuku's heart racing and ears twitching in excitement. He tightens his hold around Izuku's waist but the way his claws dig in, piercing Izuku's shirt but careful enough not to draw blood says enough.

Izuku throws his arm over Katsuki's shoulder, wrapping them around his neck as he pull him down and butts their head against each other. A purr stirs from him as he tries to smooth over Katsuki's aggressive stance. "Sorry, that was mean of me," he offers quietly in chagrin. "You're not like that." He pauses, and shakes his head meaningfully. "Not like them at all. I know you've been abstaining from eating red meat for my sake and—" he looks up, green eyes meet piercing red ones, "even if that wasn't the case, I'm not afraid of you, Kacchan."

"Stupid fool," Katsuki scolds, a familiar refrain that Izuku had heard a thousand times before since the day Izuku was brought into the Forest to be part of the Hunt, where elite carni in the Savageland can get their bloodlust and hunger met like the true beasts of burden that they are.

The Hunt has been long banned and consider barbaric practice within the walls of Para-Dice, but in the Savagelands the tradition not only lived on but thrive in the bosom of the elite carnivores who bred and raised helpless bunnies like him so he can be feast upon later in a game to meet their bloodlust; a lamb reared to be slaughter.

Katsuki was —is— apart of it and he was furiously hunted Izuku’s kind down and was about to rip his flesh apart that day in the Forest, but Izuku had went to him on trembled knees and begged to be eaten first so others can live. Katsuki had rightfully called him a stupid fool and kept him instead.

Izuku still doesn't know what had made Katsuki stop, taking him by the arm instead of a taking a bite out of him. Katsuki had thought him foolish and mad to offer himself up as food, while Izuku thought Katsuki was foolish and mad to not eat the food left out for him, but Katsuki swore to the next red meat he’ll eat it’ll be Izuku’s and Izuku’s only.

Quite frankly, they're both a little foolish and mad, choosing each other despite the hunger and fear that permeate their entire relationship. "Ah, but you adore me," Izuku says confidently, spoken like someone who had escaped the jaw of death many times over and reveled in it. He had been cheating death long enough now.

Katsuki growls, his chest rumbling in annoyance as he opens that dangerous jaw of his to reveal sharp canine teeth that had cut the flesh of many herb like him down in the past. Dangerous teeth from a dangerous beast, and Izuku's goes breathless as it descends upon him.

Katsuki presses those menacing jaw against his cheek, grazing his flesh like pinprick nail beds then he bites down — razor, soft nibble that make Izuku's cheek stings and his body arches up in response, hands clawing at the back of Katsuki's neck to push for more. Always pushing, wanting, and teasing.

Izuku’s the dangerous one. He had brought to heel this wild beast and made Katsuki his as much as he is Katsuki’s.

With eyes dilating with a throbbing desire and breath heavy, Katsuki draws back a bit reluctantly even if his face retains it frowny feature as though Izuku is his trials to bear. "I'll take you back to your dorm," he grunts out, carefully putting Izuku back in place.

Now, it's Izuku turn to frown, because really. "I'm fine," he says. “It’s not even that far off anymore.”

"Don't be stupid," Katsuki snaps, then pauses, before correcting himself, "Don't be even more stupid. Some dumbass is out there hunting dumber asses like you, so I'm not taking any fucking chances. You’re not going to become rabbit meat for someone else."

"I wouldn't let a rogue headhunter have me," Izuku argues, because if he's going to be eaten it would be Katsuki who do it. His body, his heart, and everything he could offer, he wants Katsuki to be the only one to have him like that so even if he die, he'll forever be bound to him. Tied together as one. Carni and herb’s mating aren’t frowned upon but they aren’t encouraged either, because it often results in either death or someone getting eaten. Or both.

Instinct is hard to fight off even with fabricated white meat to tame the carnivore’s aptitude, but for high aspect apex predator like Katsuki food and love is often the exact same thing. Sometimes, when Katsuki look at him Izuku can see hunger and want wars within him, and he doesn’t know if he wants to eat or fuck Izuku.

It’s all very confusing and, quite frankly, delightful at times. The fact that Izuku has lived this long while Katsuki hadn’t managed to sink his fangs completely into him said enough about Katsuki’s feelings and self-control for Izuku. He got this wild untamed wolf leashed and properly collar, but sometimes Izuku like to toe the line and see where Katsuki’s draw his boundary, just to get a taste of what it’s like to this close to death and come out alive every time.

Katsuki's eyes narrow, like he knows exactly what horrible thoughts are brewing in his head because Izuku had confessed all his twisted up desire under the cloak of darkness of their bed — eat him, rip him apart, and oh, how he wants to those teeth to sink into him one day. Death is inevitable for all vores, but to choose how one could die is a special privilege. And Izuku had already chosen.

Katsuki’s flashes those exact impeccably white teeth at him. "No, you wouldn't," he agrees gruffly, pulling Izuku along. Because he, too, wants him in that same twisted way, but not yet. Not now. They still have an entire lifetime ahead of them. There's plenty of chance for that in their future.

It's not that Izuku is fearless in the face of predation of his own kind and the hunger that keep vores like Katsuki chained to their most primal instinct. It's because Katsuki had promised him when the time is right, Izuku would be the only to offer up his heart to him and he’ll devour it like the rest of Izuku’s body.

Chapter Text

Katsuki’s backlog of military pension from the Imperial Homeworld arrives thirteen cycles after he’d finally settled on a newly minted colony outpost in Wild Space. He’d given more than twenty years of his life to the Empire and its glory and they still half-ass his retirement.

Fucking figures. Useless bureaucracy as always.

His pension landed with a dropship of shipments from a nearby space station. Katsuki half expected some kind of parade of medals and acclaims, and enough credits lining his bank account to tide him over for several generations, because Bakugou Katsuki is a goddamn war hero. He’d carried more than his weight in battle and had fought on the frontline of the Empire’s wars since he learned how to carry a gun and shoot a man at eleven on one of the Empire’s offshoot colonies.

He’s a soldier through and through, and he’d paid his dues. It’s now their turn.

What actually steps out of ship is neither some fanciful rewards or some official congratulating on his overdue retirement, but a young man with curls of green hair that reminds him of an overgrown bush and the greenest pair of eyes to match. He even got freckles dusting his face and decked out in gleaming gemstones that covered his ears, hands, neck, and wrists. He is a walking treasury of the Empire, wearing a thin long flowy dressrobe too flimsy and delicate for the kind of harsh climate in CAPU VI, and his long hair is pinned up with a flower ornamental headpiece dyed in crimson colors.

Their eyes meet and Katsuki’s pension dip his eyes as his cheeks stained a soft hue of pink. “Colonel Bakugou,” he says, lowering his head and his long lashes dipping with deference. “I’ve come on the behest of the Empire as a reward for your honorable service and duty to the Imperial Homeworld.”

Katsuki drags his hand down his face and groans as Kaminari whistles appreciatively next to him. “Oh Merciful Thane, they got you a courtesan as your pension,” he says, barely containing his amusement. “What were they even thinking?!”

“Those fucking nutjobs,” Katsuki grumbles.

Courtesan. A fancy nomer for the flowers of the Core Worlds. Genetically engineered humans with spliced genes from various plants, they're bred and raised to be the companion of the elites. Docile, submissive, and blindingly loyal to their master; they're worse than actual pets.

Katsuki crossed path with a few of them in the past through public functions pushed by the Imperial's propaganda machine, because someone got to nicely package war to the ignorance mass. All the courtesans he'd previously encountered were all pretty smiles, well mannered, and soft spoken. They were so goddamn perfect in presentation that it was like talking to an empty headed doll. It had grinded his gears then and it still grinds his gears now. What the fuck is Katsuki even supposed to do with some artificial created flower doll?

Sheltered in the cradle of the Core Worlds, these courtesan certainly never know the meaning of starvation, never dirty their hands in a hard day of work, and certainly had never step foot on some far flung planet and told to survive they must fight and kill the enemies in front of them.

Katsuki had worked his ass off to be able to finally retired deep in Wild Space, far from the Empire's reach, so he can live a life away from the bloodshed and deaths of war after having endured it enough to last several lifetimes.

But, of course the Empire continues to fuck him over even now.

He gazes at the Empire's last fuck you to him, brows pinching in thought. Shipping him back would be an annoyance, too many toes he would have stepped on, but worth it.

The courtesan gives him a tentative smile under the intense scrutiny. Cool. Professional. And just downright perfect. "I'm Izuku from the Misty Rain Teahouse," he introduces himself.

Misty Rain, a famous teahouse that had train some of the best courtesans in the galaxy and Izuku is one of theirs. At least the Empire is not that much of a stingy ass autocracy to skimp out on his pension even if their gift is completely useless and inconvenience to him in this part of space.

"I don't care what the fuck your name is or where you came from," Katsuki says with narrowed eyes, "because you're going hop right back on that damn ship. I don't have time to take care of some pamper pet trying to warm my bed when this hellhole of planet is going to fuck me sideways if I'm not careful."

Izuku flinches, but holds his head high and shoulders firm. "I--," his cheeks redden as he clear his throat, "I'm not here to be just your b-bed partner, Colonel Bakugou. I'm to be your husband. You made an acquisition for a spouse with the VA and I'm here to fulfill it."

A beat of deathly silence, then, "what?" Katsuki demands with an outraged hiss.

Kaminari's brows shoot up to hairline at that revelation. "Sol's galactic balls, they sent you an equivalent of a mail order bride!" He clutches his stomach, and laughs and laughs like the idea is so absurd it got to be some sort of a joke. "I didn't think you were that lonely to be in a need of a spouse, Bakugou."

Katsuki's eyes flashes toward Kaminari and he smacks him at the back of his head for the trouble. "Shut your fucking mouth before I stapled it shut," he threatens.

Kaminari just grins and mines zipping his mouth in the face of Katsuki's glare and fury. "Aye, aye, sir," he says with a lazy salute that makes Katsuki bristle. They’re out of uniform, but doesn’t mean Kaminari can be indolent with his manners.

Katsuki consider throwing him in the compactor for his casual insubordination, but he's shorts on extra hands at his ranch and Kaminari when he's not speaking is actually a good engineer. He sighs, and turns back to the other problem at hand, who is sparing him a hopeful smile.

Katsuki rakes a hand through his hair furiously, before biting the bullet. "Look, I didn't make any formal request for a spouse," he tells Izuku. "So you can go back and tell those fuckers that they had made a mistake. I wanted my pension in credits at least and not a damn bedwarmer."

"B-but," Izuku's green go wide with hurt, "I got your signature here right here, sir." He pulls up a holocron page on his wrist and there's a digital footprint of Katsuki's signature on it. "You signed the paperwork so we're officially married under the Empire's purview."

Katsuki’s jaw locks, hands curling at his side as a windswept murderous rage set in. He thinks of that boy orphaned by war, who had learned how to wield a gun and shoot a man down long before he even knew the warmth of another home; his hands are uncleaned.

Twenty years. Twenty fucking years that he had let them strung him up like a toy soldier so he can bleed on foreign soil countless time, spearheaded invasions, and waged wars for the Empire's ambition that had left him half mad and lost in a sea of the ghost of his compatriots.

He was done. Done with their damning blood wars. Never again will he played into their hands. The day after they had pinned another the medal of honor on his chest, he'd sent in his retirement papers and that was that. Only thirty years old, but he was already a veteran of hundreds of wars.

It only took watching a friend get shot way too many times, that there's no honor or glory in burying the dead and having to grip the hand of someone you had slept and fought side by side with as they breathed their last breath. Katsuki was tired of it all. Losing and losing and losing, even when he had come out of each battle unscathed. Using the blood money they had given him and had accumulated over the years, he bought several acres of land and within a year he managed to carve a life for himself here in the Wild Space.

He'd never consider that escaping from the Empire's machination would even remotely entrap him with a damn husband for a spy later.

"I don't need or want you, so fuck off!" Katsuki spits out. This man before him reeks of the Empire's ploy to have him fall back into their grip. He would foolish to assume that once he hung up his guns and assumed a civilian identity that they would just leave him the fuck alone. He’s too good of a soldier to be ever truly let loose in society.  

Once a dog of war, always a dog of war.

 "I'll double whatever they'd paid you to be here,” Katsuki continues to offer with a glower.

Izuku blinks, taken back his sharp words as hurt flashes across his face, but he swiftly recovers with a steady voice that had been practice a million times before. "Colonel Bakugou, it is of great privilege to be able to serve you,” he says, the words flowing out of him easy and true. “You are not only a hero of the Empire, but the hero, the White Wolf, who had ravaged Epsilon VX and saved the Citadel from the Anrhon." He drops his gaze to the ground. "I was chosen specifically as reward for all your accolades. I deeply apologize that you do not find me to your taste or use."

Kaminari jabs him in the side with his sharp elbow. "Couldn't you be more considerate?" he hisses. "You're going to make him cry!"

Katsuki turns to him and glares. "I fucking didn't ask for him or any of this! I just want those fuckers at HQ to leave me the fuck alone." He switches his attention back to the new baggage that was dropped in his lap unceremonly and finds him hunch over, eyes still downcast, and so out of place at this shitty spaceport with all expensive jewelries and clothes. And fuck.

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face at this entire fucked up fiasco.

Izuku jerks his head up suddenly. "If General Bakugou wish for me to leave, I would," he starts, voice hesitant and wary, "but as the next transport shuttle won't depart to the core worlds till next quarter, I cannot leave yet."

Katsuki groans in defeat, because what the fuck.

When he'd chosen this quadrant of the in the outer rims, Wild Space, because he had wanted to put as much distance from the reaches of the Empire as possible and this part of space is harsh and still mostly untamed. It takes the Empire too much manpower to maintain control of the independent colonies this far off the rim. And very few seek to settle on this last frontier of the galaxy where raiders, slavers, and the worst kind of people make their home here. The colonists that landed here either has no other choice left or they're just plain mad. Katsuki is neither, because he's very good with a gun and he always like a challenge.

It's much easier to find shuttles that take the passengers here then is it to find one that is willing to take them back, because very few does. The outer rims will chew you up and spit you out all wrong and fucked up that you become unrecognizable. This place is not made for pretty, delicate flowers like Izuku. "Fine, fucking fine," he growls out, frustration thickening his voice. He's not that much of an asshole to leave his not-spouse stranded and alone in this hellhole. "You can stay with me for now. Temporary until I figure what to do with you." He scowls. "But as soon as the next shuttle arrived, you're going to drag your ass on that ship and never come back here, do you hear me?"

Izuku lights up, eyes bright as his hands clasped together. "Thank you, thank you so much, sir. I will not drag you down and will work hard to earn my bedding and food."

"So," Kaminari muses, "you got a free labor and companionship for an entire three months. Fun times ahead."

Katsuki’s scowl deepens. "Fun my ass." He rolls his eyes. "Come on, get your luggage and throw it in Kaminari's hovercar. We're heading back to my ranch and it's a long and bumpy ride hed."

Izuku shuffles forward hopefully. "Yes, sir." Then, he stops and winces. "My luggages are quite a lot. I'm sorry that it might be a tight squeeze in the hovercar for all three of us."

Katsuki snorts. "It’s fine. I didn't come here with him on the hovercar anyway. I have my own ride."

He prefers to travel around on his cy-bike anyway. It's faster, smaller, and his. Less chance of other people riding along, because he hates having passengers on his bike anyway.

"Oh," Izuku breathes, his eyes widening with delight and curiosity, "I've never been on a cy-bike before." He looks hopefully at Katsuki. "May I ride with you, general?"

Katsuki's brow twitches as Kaminari snickers beside him at the audacity of this sheltered flower from the core worlds. Suicidal or mad, he thinks in annoyance, these are the people that chose to come here. Izuku might be both. Sol, the boy is both. "You," he points at Izuku, then to himself with narrowed and skeptical eyes, "want to ride with me."

"Yes." Izuku nods eagerly. "May I? I promise to behave!"

Katsuki rubs his throbbing forehead and sighs. "I don't take passenger," he says, "and especially when you're wearing that." He gestures to Izuku – to the delicate, fine silk skirt of his long dressrobe that swamped his person. "It's going to tear into the fabric and you're going to be upset about your ruined clothes."

Izuku looks down at his chosen attire, frowns, and then with no hesitation he bends down, reaches for his skirt and tears right into it. His hands pull taught at the material like a fine knife cutting through water. Seamless, clean, it goes all the way around him till whatever remains is a very, very short skirt that hang loose mid-thigh,  making him look like one of those port hookers ready to drop their clothes for ten credits.

A treasured courtesan, raised in the core worlds with all its luxury and wealth, had ripped his overprice damn robe in front of them with no shame. "Will that do?" Izuku asks earnestly, holding the piece of fabric he had torn in his grip. "Or should I make it even shorter?"

Kaminari makes a scandalized sound next to him that sound like dying horine. "Fine, you win," Katsuki drawls out, mostly exasperated but also slightly impressed. This shittyass galaxy that had made children into soldiers and soldiers into monsters, he wouldn’t surprise if the flower before him will also grow some teeth one day.

Honestly, fuck them all. Clearly, Izuku has no intention to give him any peace or quiet in the next several months that he’s stuck here with Katsuki.

Chapter Text

"Get out of my way, extras," Katsuki yells, pushing through a throng of busybody who all decided at that moment to move as sluggishly as possible like they got nothing to do but stand in his way. "Fucking move it already!"

"Sorry, sorry, he hadn’t has his lunch yet," Eijirou says behind him to the people Katsuki had offended.

Which is not an uncommon thing around him; he'd rightfully pissed off more than a few people in this lifetime. What is uncommon is Katsuki storming his way through a police station in the afternoon with adrenaline and anticipation hot on his tail since he'd received that message from Captain Omari.

Zero, I believe we just had a major breakthrough with the Nine case. I suggest you come to the station this instance.

Nine, that fucking ratface bastard has been thorn in Katsuki side for so long now that there’s not a day he doesn’t think about grinding his face in the dust. Ruthless and cunning, Nine had managed to keep a tight rein of terror in Katsuki's city.

He'd went head to head against Nine in countless battles before, came out on top more than half it, but had been denied his rightful victory every fucking time Nine had clawed his way out and escaped Katsuki's grip. More than just beyond frustrating, it is his greatest humiliation.

Katsuki has been on this chase for three years now, right after his agency had took over the main patrol routes of the city, but Nine remains elusive as ever and for all Katsuki’s accomplishment and accolades he'd achieved so far – owning his own agency in just only five years after his debut, unseating the previous number one hero, and a growing list of villains he'd taken down and thrown in Tartarus. Nine's entire existence is an embarrassing mar on his more than stellar record.

Now, he finally get a chance to put Nine away for good and keep it that way, with no hope of that slimy bastard wiggling his way out of it this time around, because Katsuki is going to fucking destroy him.

Katsuki's legs eventually carry him right outside of a secure interrogation room, where two armed officers are station by the door.  "Ground Zero," one of them says, dipping his head in deference, "the captain is waiting for you in there."

He makes a grunt of acknowledgement. Just as he about to open the door with Eijirou close behind him, the officer on the left puts his hand out to block them from coming in.

"Sorry, sir, but the captain requested to only see Zero-san at the moment," he says.

Katsuki's eyes narrow. "What the fuck. He's my partner."

"S-sorry," the man says again, wilting under the force of Katsuki's glare, "but it’s captain's order."

Eijirou, who is less of an asshole than him and therefore marginally better at handling other people, just pats Katsuki's on the shoulder and shrugs. "Don't worry, just go on ahead without me. I'm sure, Captain Omari has a good reason for it."

Katsuki makes a face and lets out a resigned sigh. Nine is such a troublesome little shit that it became an inter-agencies mission to hunt him down with Katsuki leading the charge, bullying other agencies in the district to work with him because Nine is a public menace and UA had beaten him black and blue the lone wolf mentally out of him. Captain Omari had been supporting him from the side, doing menial investigations and interviews that Katsuki is too busy for.

They work closely together enough now that if the old man thinks this is serious enough to warrant secrecy, even though he trusts Eijirou with his life, then fuck Katsuki is going to respect it. "Fine," he grits out, giving Eijirou a nod, "you stay out here then. Wait for me."

Ejirou gives him a thumb up. "You got it, bro."

Katsuki rolls his eyes and turns to the officer, blocking him from entering currently. "Can I fucking go in now?" he demands.

"Uh, y-yes, of course, sir," the officer squeaks out, stepping aside so Katsuki can come through. Katsuki’s terrifying reputation precedes him once more. Good.

He opens the door with no resistance and walks into an even smaller room as the door shuts behind him. It's empty of occupant and a compact space with a large blackened glass mirror taking over one half of the wall, separating this room from another room where there's another door tucked to a corner.

There's no sound coming through from the other side, but he knows Omari is there and whatever lead he might have caught is there also. He thinks maybe it’s another witness to Nine’s crime or one of Nine’s associates finally coming in to turn against Nine for leniency later. The former is more likely than the latter, because nobody connected with Nine was stupid or insane enough to betrayed him; those fucking cowards.

Katsuki clenches and unclenches his hand, knowing that Omari wouldn't hail him here like this if he didn't expect something good to come out of it. He trusts Omari.

He walks over to the door, twists the knob open, pushes his way through and steps inside to a—nursery? There are kids on the floor, three bowed head shading away on pages of a coloring book and there's another one sitting nearby, watching them closely with a cool detachment.

Their quiet giggles and murmurs that had filled the room earlier stops abruptly at the sound of his entrance, and he's staring right into the eyes of youthful curiosity in some and heavy skepticism and wariness in others. These children make him feels stripped raw.

One, two, three, and four, he counts off in his head, from what look to be the oldest sitting in a chair against the wall with her hands carefully place on her lap and the youngest sandwiching between his other siblings, because they're clearly blood related with three of the four sharing the same eerie white hair and stormy grey eyes.

Only the youngest, no. 4, Katsuki quietly dubs in his head, sticks out like a sore thumb with a head full of  green curl and an even greener set of eyes that avoided his gaze.

"It's Ground Zero!" the little girl, no. 3, on the floor says with a delighted gasp, reaching over no. 4 to shake no. 2’s shoulder excitedly.

No. 2, a sour looking boy, grunts in annoyance and roll away from her touch. "I can see that, Akira. I'm not blind."

No. 4 huddles closer to no. 3 as though he can hide from Katsuki's scrutiny, while no. 1 doesn't even react to his presence, continuing to watch over her younger siblings with careful consideration.

Someone clears their throat and it's definitely none of the kids because Omari says, "Ah, there you are, Bakugou."

Katsuki jerks his head up to meet Omari's amused gaze. He'd been so preoccupied by these kids, who shouldn’t be here in the first place, that he didn’t even take notice of anybody else in the room and eve forgot the reason why he's here.

"Sorry," he grumbles. "I just—who the fuck are these brats?! And where the hell are their parents?!"

"Language," No. 1 snaps out, speaking up for the first time. There’s an arrogance lilt to her voice as her eyes narrow at him, finally deeming him important enough to be acknowledge. "Please watch your mouth around my younger siblings, Zero-san."

Katsuki glares at that tiny ball of superiority, who doesn't even flinch under the heat of his fury. She's cool as fucking ice and he has a lot of things he want to say about that, but wisely keeps his mouth shut because he's not getting into an argument with a fucking fetus.

Omari stifles a laugh at the hilarious theater unfolding before him, because it's not everyday Ground Zero get scolded by a child, and clears his throat again. "Sorry that I called you in such a hurry, but," he rises from his seat and steps back, "this is extremely important. I would like you to meet someone," he says, gesturing his hand out toward the other person, who'd been sitting quietly across the table from him.

Katsuki's eyes widen as he looks past Omari and into the face he hadn't seen in more than ten years. "Hello, Kacchan," Midoriya Izuku says. It’s same green curls, green eyes, and freckles dusting across his cheeks, but he’s older and surer of himself, looking particularly comfortable in his seat.

"W-what, Deku?!" Katsuki stumbles out, half in hysteric and disbelief. "I-I thought you fucking died! What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Well, I see you have met my children," Izuku says instead, glancing over at the brats lovingly with a soft smile. "And they're the sole reason I'm here today."

The last time, Katsuki had seen Midoriya Izuku was when he was watching him get cart off into a car by the social services three days after Aunt Inko had died of a car accident; he was only thirteen. Quirkless, omega, and recently orphaned – Izuku was truly one of the world’s the unluckiest bastards.

Katsuki's mother had wanted to take Izuku in, but a young omega and alpha living under the same roof was ill advised and Katsuki would have fought it every single step. The social service simply wouldn't have it, and so Izuku became a ward of the state. Katsuki didn't see him again after that. Until now that is.

After more than ten years, he'd only assumed the worst.

Omegas, especially one that young, who had taken in by the state would eventually get fostered –  auctioned - off to eligible bachelor alphas as soon as they turn sixteen to be mated, leaving them with little to no choice but to comply.

Afterward, they tend to disappeared off the map.

Sometimes that means they're dead, other times they're alive but enslaved. Katsuki doesn't know which the better outcome is because they're both shit either way. His mother had tried to look for Izuku afterward and even Katsuki made his own attempt because he realized what a shit he was, but years had passed by and still nothing, no sign of a Midoriya Izuku at all. Eventually, Katsuki had to write Izuku off completely.

Now, he's standing in a secured room at a police station and Midoriya Izuku is not only alive, but whole and healthy. The only thing he can think of is: "These horrid little monsters are your kids?!"

No. 3's head perks up and she scowls at him. "Hey, hey, that's not nice!"

No. 2's eyes narrow, raising his fist up and looking at Katsuki's thoughtfully. "Should I kick him?" he offers.

No. 1 frowns, lips thinning out in unimpressed line. "Kouki, do not do that," she scolds at her brother. "We don't lower ourselves to his baser level."

No. 4 leans close to no. 3’s ear and whispers, not quite quiet enough, to his sister, "are we monster, Akira-nee?"

"Yea," she curls her fingers like they are claws at him and a low growl rumbles from her throat, "and I'mma eat you, Hikaru!" Her fingers attacks his side relentlessly.

No. 4 tries to fend off her attack with a fit of loud giggles and flailing hands, hiding behind no. 2 ,who only scowls before raising his fists up to defend no. 4 from no. 3, which quickly descends into a tickle fight. No. 1 looks upon her younger siblings and sighs deeply like they pained her.

"Yes," Izuku says, watching the tickle fight unfolding before them with barely contained amusement and fondness, "they're my most precious children." There's an entire world in those few words; a fierce love that could weather any storm. He turns toward no. 1 and gestures toward her. "Over there is my eldest daughter and pride, Yuko."

Yuko rises to her feet and lowers her head just slightly enough to show respect, but her cold gaze locking on him says another otherwise. "Hello," she greets, and a heavy beat, then, "Kacchan."

Katsuki's left eye twitch, but he holds his tongue as Izuku fails to hide his smile.

"My twins," Izuku continues, waving to the tangled limbs on the floor, "the sullen Kouki and fierce Akira, who are pulling at each other's hair."

"Papaaaaaaa," Akira whines, kicking Kouki in the side to get him off of her as Kouki grunts in pain, "Kouki is embarrassing me in front of Kacchan!"

Kouki releases his sister with a shove and scowls, which is all he seems to be able to do. "Kacchan," he sneers, "can eat my—"

"Kouki!" Yuko snaps, grey eyes flashing with heat.

Kouki stares up at Yuko for a beat, and then ducks his head dejectedly. "Sorry, Yuko-nii. Sorry, Papa."

"As you can see they’re my lovely twins," Izuku says, smiling proudly down at his children like his kids didn't tried to kill each other in front of him and there are witnesses to it. "And lastly my youngest and treasure, Hikaru."

Hikaru scrambles up from the floor and hurries to Izuku, climbing into his lap. He buries his face into Izuku's shoulder, hands fisting around Izuku's shirt tightly like he's trying to hide himself from the world, but slowly he raises his head away from Izuku to quietly and shyly says, "Hi, Kacchan."

Ok, Katsuki’s heart quickens just slightly there but the fact that he’s also adopting his older siblings' choice of name for Katsuki is—annoying. These kids have no fucking boundaries at all.

Katsuki scrubs his face, feeling a headache coming on. "Yea, thanks for introduction and all, I guess, but I still don't understand what the fu—" Yuko shoots him another quelling glare and Katsuki grimaces as he corrects himself, because this kid is not letting up, "is going on."

Omari, who had been letting Izuku lead the conversation so far, pips up finally, "I told you in the message earlier that I need you here." His expression straightens out and there’s a heavy solemnness to it. “It’s Nine. Izuku-san is here for Nine.”

With just that name alone the entire room freezes as though a forbidding cloud have descended upon them.

Yuko's shoulders tighten just minutely enough that if Katsuki didn't pay close attention he wouldn't have notice. The twins get up from the floor to stand behind their older sister, holding to each other in a united front like they're going to war. Izuku squeezes his arms around Hikaru, who ducks his head under his chin and tries to pretend nobody else exist in the room.

Katsuki frowns at the sudden change in the family's friendly atmosphere earlier. "What does that have to do with Deku and the kids?" he demands, even though there's a nagging feeling in his head that he’ll hate whatever words to come out of their mouth next.

"He's my husband," Izuku admits quietly, and it’s strained like the words had to dragged out of him, "and the sire of my children."

Yea, he fucking hates it. Katsuki feels like someone had just ripped the rug under him. "You married the bastard?!" he demands, storming up to Izuku. "Do you even know what kind of person he is?! He’s a murdering psychopath whose kill counts are in the triple digits!"

"Get away from my Papa," he hears Kouki yells off in the distance, but fuck Katsuki couldn't care less right now as Yuko scolds, "Kouki! Kouki, enough! Stop it."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the two sisters struggling to hold Kouki back from jumping Katsuki. For such a small body, there’s a lot of rage in him. Something that Katsuki is keenly familiar with.

"Kouki, please," Izuku says gently. And that's all it take for Kouki to completely exhausts his fighting spirit. "Sorry," he says, looking at Katsuki apologetically, "my kids are just protective." He looks down at the table separating them, hand carefully stroking Hikaru's back.

Katsuki casts a quick glance at Omari, who quietly shakes his head and keeps his mouth zip, clearly wanting Izuku to dictate the pace of the conversation. There's a story here, he knows, and Izuku and his kids are at the very center of it and Katsuki doesn't like it one bit. "Deku," he says awkwardly, like blubbering fool, "just take your time. I'll wait."

He finds himself in the uncomfortable position of having to comfort a distressed civilian and his wayward kids, which is not something Katsuki is used to. It should have been Eijirou rather, who always been better at this than him, but somehow that's not good enough.

"And it is because I know who my husband is that's why I'm here before you," Izuku reveals, voice steady and firm with each word. "When I'd married him, I was sixteen and had no other choice, but now my children are older and I will do anything to secure their future so that they have the choice that I didn't." He lifts his gaze and meets Katsuki's own, eyes bright and fierce with all the power of a parental love behind it; it’s a force to be reckon with. "I will not let my children become a monster like their sire. They will not be a villain of their own story," he declares to the entire room.

Katsuki cast a quick glance at Omari, a silence exchange passes between them, and Omari gives a short nod before Katsuki’s focus falls back on Izuku. "It would take us a few hours and a bit of work, but we can arrange to take you and your kids away right now," he offers. His mind is already racing with the logistic of it. It'll be rush job, but he knows they can do it. They will do it. Izuku won't accept anything less for his family and neither will Katsuki, this is something they can both agreed upon. "We can protect your family from Nine. Just tell us what you know of him and his operation and we'll take it from here," he presses.

Nine is still a main priority of him and his team even though he’s now terribly aware that the monster he had been dreaming of putting away for life has a spouse and kid, but even then Nine had ruined the idea of a family too with his taint. You have to be a certain kind of rotten bastard to invoke enough fear and anger in your family to have them turned on you.

Izuku smiles, but it’s too wide and crooked. "Thank you,” he shakes his head, “but no."

Katsuki blinks, then reels back in shock and annoyance. Does he even know what he’s rejecting?! "What do you mean no? Didn't you come here specifically for our help?!"

"You can't help me," Izuku says, slowly but firmly. "Nine has been given free ranged of this city for years, Kacchan, and you and your people couldn't even do anything to stop him. You didn't even know my family existed until now, because you had nothing on him. The only one who can help me right now is myself and I will be the one to put him down for good."

Katsuki flinches, instinctively the young hotheaded alpha in him rumbles unpleasantly. "What can you even do?!" He sneers. "You're what—a househusband? Last a check you're quirkless and an omega, what can you even do that we can't? Leave this to the pros, we'll take care of it."

Izuku winces, a flash of hurt runs across his face as his eyes lower to the table and his hand balls into a fist at the back of Hikaru, who cries out a soft, concern, "Papa?"

"Bakugou," Katsuki hears the infliction of a scold in Omari's voice, but he doesn't care. Izuku's earlier words had sting harder than he like to admit. He always know how to get under Katsuki’s skin even after all these years. Something never changes.

"Fuck you!" he hears a young, angry voice from the side then a flash of movement before he gets a face full of spite in Kouki. "You don't know what sort of hell we'd suffered in that house, so don't you ever talk that way to my Papa. He's more of a hero than any of you people!" His small fists clenched at his side, body bristling in defense and ready for a fight with him.

Katsuki casts a hasty, furtive glance at the other two who remains silence, but their silence is deafening with the way a wrought of disappointment and hurt runs across Akira's face. While Kouki's anger is all fire and brimstone, Yuko's contempt runs much deeper and colder in it placidly, enough to chills him to the bones. The fact that she didn't rebuke Kouki right away for his language tells Katsuki that there's a storm brewing behind those her cold grey eyes and he's the culprit for it.

Katsuki is a rightful asshole. He knows this, his friends like to remind him often enough, but he isn't a malicious one. Not anymore anyway. Being around Izuku though brought back that angry and dumb boy who only knows how to lash out and hurt others for the damage he'd perceived they committed against him.

That isn't him though. He isn’t that boy anymore.

He really thought he truly outgrown it, but confronted with the living memory of all his insecurities, he had regressed once more. Midoriya Izuku always got the better of him. Quirkless and omega be damned, because Izuku always broke Katsuki’s carefully laid boundaries and expectations.

That truth made him furious back then. Now it leaves him empty.

Katsuki takes several steps back from them, scrubs his face furiously, and exhales. A long, deep exhale and shoves out all his crumbling self doubts and fucked ups down, because this isn't about him. Not, not about him at all. "Sorry," he murmurs, embarrassed, then he remembers the face of those kids and sighs. "Sorry," he says again, louder and stronger this time around. "That's inexcusable. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way."

Omari looks so shock by his sudden apology that he nearly chokes on air. Izuku also seems surprised by his outburst by the slight hang of his lips, but it softens out into a small, shy smile that makes him appear much younger than he really is. Almost like the boy Katsuki used to know.

"No. 2 is right, I know shit so I shouldn't have assumed," Katsuki presses on, cheeks flushing at his own admission.

"No. 2? Did he mean Kouki?" Akira not whispers to her sister, because nobody in this fucking family knows how to do it properly.

Yuko hisses a, "be quiet, Akira," in return.

"Thank you," Izuku acknowledges with a curve of his lips, because he always been kinder and better than Katsuki in that regard. "I accept your apology, Kacchan."

Kouki only glares at him as he settles next to Izuku, arms folded and hovering close by as some sort of silent sentinel, but really he just look like a miniature protector. Kinda useless but an A for effort, Katsuki guesses.

"I understand where your doubt and hesitation is coming from, so I came prepared to prove my point," Izuku continues, jerking his head toward the two girls. "Yuko, would you please?"

"Yes, Papa," Yuko says, pulling back to rummage through her small purse, and takes out a pencil case from the bag.

Katsuki's brows furrow as Yuko approaches him with the fuzzy panda shape pencil case. He glances at Omari who also adopts a look of total confusion on his face too.

"Hand, please. This is for you, Kacchan," Yuko says coolly, depositing it onto his open palm. "Open it and look inside."

A tiny bit miffed at having to take order by a damn fetus, but he finds himself obeying anyway and unzips the bag to find four USB flash drives tucked inside and nothing else. He jerks his head up, eyes widen as Izuku gives him a knowing and purposeful smile that is full of bite. Izuku hasn't said anything yet, but Katsuki's heart is already racing with the hints of what to come.

"Those four flash drives contain all the information I've collected over ten years about my husband and his crime wave. They hold everything about his associates, sources, and businesses," Izuku explains. "Pictures, documentations, and weekly logs of what he had been up to for the past years. I had painstakingly gathered them together and put it all in those flash drives as evidence. And this is just four of the ten I made so far. The rest is to guarantee my children safety." He places his hands on the table and stares at Omari and Katsuki with a pointed look. "As you can see it's not that I need you, but it is you who need me," he finishes. "Like I said before, there is nothing I won't do for my children, so do I have your attention now?"

It has been over ten years since they had last seen each other — Katsuki had went on and seized the number one ranking as the top hero in the country, and Izuku had all disappeared from Katsuki’s life . Only to reappear before him as the spouse of one of the most dangerous villains in the world. And he even got four kids in tow now.

What utter bullshit.

If someone told him that this is their future — standing on opposing side, he, a hero, trying to put down a villain and Izuku, a quirkless omega, who effectively engineered his own husband downfall. It's absurd. Laughable even.  But here they both are, staring each other down like the clash of titans; an unstoppable force colliding with an unmovable object. Katsuki had fought more formidable foe than this married, quirkless omega in front of him, and yet, he shakes his head and sighs; a curious foreign feeling stirs within.

It's not awful and that's the thing, the rage and despair doesn't kick in even though he realizes who had come out of this battle of wills victorious. "Fine. Fucking fine. You win, Deku," he says with wry twist of his lips. "We'll do as you say and follow your lead."

A true smile spreads across Izuku's face that isn't hinder by any passing secrets and machination. It was one he reserved solely for his children. "Thank you, Kacchan," he says, tilting his head toward Katsuki. "I came to you because I knew I can trust you, but I didn't expect you to have grown this much too. It's a nice surprised," he admits, blush staining his cheeks as he looks away, unwilling to meet Katsuki's startled gaze.

"I—I, yea, uh, you too," Katsuki stumbles out like a total idiot as Omari sucks in a deep breath next to him, clearly amused by their entire exchange.

But he's the only one because Kouki's face crunches up like he'd ate something bitter, Yuko just glares at him with the force enough to level a city, and Akira's eyes widen as she glances back and forth between a blushing Izuku and Katsuki's foot in his mouth act.

"Ohmygod," Akira says horrified, a palm flying to her mouth.  

"Be quiet," Yuko hisses at her.

But it's not them, who is the final nail in the coffin for Katsuki and Izuku. Hikaru pushes himself away from Izuku's hold, enough to get look at him and frowns. "Papa, why is your face so red?" says Hikaru, brows furrowing worriedly. "Are—are you sick?"

"N—no, I'm fine," Izuku immediately denies, hands flying toward his face to cover himself from Hikaru's curious inquiry, but Hikaru is relentless.

"Then why are you hiding?" he demands, reaching for Izuku to pry the fingers away. And it's a battle between father and son.

Katsuki finds himself watching Deku—Izuku—who had easily flipped their power game around and put himself on top of them like it was nothing, now he's currently fighting off his son's curious attention and failing.

It's. All. Just. So. Fucking. Cute. Fuck him. He's going crazy now. Losing his fucking mind the longer he spend in here.

Kouki reaches over and snatches Hikaru's hand in his grip. "Stop," he orders, low and pointed. "You're bothering Papa."

Hikaru's head dips and he says quietly, "Sorry, Kouki-nii." And Kouki releases Hikaru's hand.

Izuku lets out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Kouki."

God, kill him now. Adorable. This family is going to be the death of him. Every one of them.  

He groans, rubbing his face as thought that will cure whatever fucking illness that had taken hold of him. He can hear Omari trying to smother a chuckle beside him.

Katsuki straightens up and clears his throat. "So shall we do next?"

Izuku places Hikaru on the floor, who quickly clambers toward Kouki to hold his older brother’s hand in his. "I'll head home with the kids for now and we go on as though nothing had changed as I gathered the last of my flash drives and the incriminating information for you," he tells them.

A brow shoots up to Katsuki's hairline. "Just like that? You're fine with coming back to him after all that shit?" Isn’t he scare of what Nine could do to them if he accidently slipped off somehow? Katsuki had seen all of Nine’s former associates choosing to be thrown in Tartarus rather than give up Nine, because of how much terror he had instill in all of them.

Izuku gives an amused snort. "I have been living with him since I was sixteen, young and helpless, and no power to fight back. I can handle him just fine."

Izuku may say it all nonchalantly, but there's strange flicker of his face that causes all his children tense up. It makes Katsuki want to reach out and grabs Izuku and his children so he can stuffed them away in a safe house so Nine can't touch any of them. Fucking slimy bastard.

Just because Izuku thinks he's okay doesn't make it so. Sometimes abuse doesn’t leave any physical imprints behind, but it grips the heart and poisoned everything else, leaving the victim just as damaged and broken in the same way. 

But Izuku is no victim. He's a survivor. This is the most obvious thing he'd understood today.

"Okay, but if you need anything, you can contact me anytime," Katsuki says, holding his hands still at his side so he doesn't do anything stupid like reach out toward Izuku without his permission. "I'm here if you need me."

"Oh," Izuku breathes, a pink tint rises to his cheeks once more and Katsuki wonders how many times he can be the cause of it? And then proceeds to want to punch himself in the face for that train of thought. "I—I see, thank you for that offer. I wouldn't want to impose."

"No!" Katsuki says vehemently, feeling like he's losing his fucking mind here because he can't stop running his stupid mouth. "I don't fucking care. Impose away. It doesn't matter how small it is, just let me help you. You don't have to take on everything yourself."

Izuku's lips part, but no words come out as he stares at Katsuki with an inexplicable expression across his face, making Katsuki's edgy under the scrutiny like he’s picking Katsuki’s apart to see what make him tick.

Silence descends upon them.

Omari coughs into his hand, clearing the strange air between them. "If that will be all?

Izuku drags his gaze away from Katsuki enough to nods his head. "Yes, I'll contact you as soon as I finished my preparation," he says, rising to his feet.

Yea, the quicker they get the mission done with and throw Nine in prison, the sooner Izuku and his children can be free. And be out of Katsuki’s life and thought.

The only problem is the fucking waiting around, and he's not used to being still and holding out for others to take action first, but he's not leading this mission. It's all Izuku's. They're just following him along and aiding him, when Izuku is the one in control of everything.

It's a sore situation he finds himself in, but as Izuku steps away from the table to reveal his hand carefully resting over the tiny bump of his stomach. And Katsuki is not fucking dumb, okay? He knows what he's seeing. "Wait, you're pregnant?!" Katsuki demands, voice going scratchy high with disbelief.

Izuku pauses, glances down at his stomach as though he’d forgotten about it. "Ah, yes that's right." His face brightens as he rubs his slightly bulging belly. "I told you before, I would do anything to secure my children's future. No children of mine will be raised as monster. "

The children huddle around Izuku protectively, a united front against the world. This kind of bond goes beyond just blood. Forged in the fire of the hell they must have endure under Nine's fearful reign over their household.

He may not know their full story, but it's there. He can see it all over their face in the frigid glare of Yuko, the aggressive stance of Kouki, and the tightness of Akira's shoulders. But even among all that horror, there is hope still: "Hello, baby sister," Hikaru says softly to Izuku's belly, touching it fondly.

“Hey, it could be boy!” Akira protests.

“Girl,” Kouki says with a frown. “I want a little sister.”

“Don’t assume things,” Yuko lectures her siblings. “We don’t know yet!”

Izuku laughs, seemingly delighted by his children fighting over their newest sibling.

Katsuki is a pro-hero, fighting and protecting is part of his job, his duty; it's who he is, but looking at the family in front of him he has never been more seized by this wretched feeling to be better, to do better to earn their—trust and faith. Fuck, he just wants to be enough to deserve them. To be able to protect them against all the wrongs that had been dealt against them.

He wants them.

Chapter Text

It is only Toki’s third week at U.A. University when he sees a blond man hauling a lifeless body over his shoulder as he cuts across the northern courtyard in the middle of the night with a few stragglers wandering around. “S-sempai, should we do something?” he asks hysterically, because what the fuck. Is anybody seeing this, but him? “Like, maybe call security?”

Seo squints at the figure across the field, frowning and then shrugs. “Oh, that’s just Bakugou and Midoriya.” She waves his concern away.

Wincing, Toki know those names. They’re infamous. Notorious, really. “Am I supposed to be relieved by that?”

It’s the first lesson his RA taught him at his freshman orientation: “Your campus life would be much easier if you stay clear of Bakugou and Midoriya.” It was said with such gravitas that Toki almost rescind his enrollment right then and there.

Nobody can be that bad, right? Not even with the way the rumor mill churns about these two? He’d tried to reason to himself before the fear can completely overtake him. It must be something fun and stupid, a prank the seniors like to play on their kouhai just to give them a little scare, but the first time he ever heard anything about the notorious duo outside of his dorm were the murmurs of Midoriya getting drag out of anatomy class by the campus police for releasing the frogs meant for dissection that day in the lab and Bakugou had cursed up a storm as he bailed him out afterward.

His classmates in his Freshman English comp class couldn’t stop talking about it when pictures of Midoriya waving cheekily at the crowd of curious onlookers as he was dragged out of the Health Science building in handcuffs by a weary campus officer made its way onto the college’s social media page.

Toki didn’t look.

Didn’t dare to actually, because he’d come to UA with the promise of the best academics and athletics department in the entire country to back him up, and not for this kind of shitshow. All he wanted was to graduate at the top of his class and in peace. Please. He doesn’t have time for any of this craziness. Except two days after Midoriya got in trouble with the campus police, Bakugou got into some kind of an oral fight with his professor they spent a good thirty minutes arguing in front of the whole class while Bakugou made it clear he doesn’t give a crap about ‘the pivotal ukiyo-e art movement during the Edo period that illustrated the common’s folk life’ but won’t drop the class.

The audacity and absurdity of the story spread around like wildfire across campus as more and more people retold it to their curious and enraptured classmates, because apparently this was not the first or the last time Bakugou had went head to head with a professor because he refuse to keep his opinions to himself.

Bakugou has too many opinions and a lack of filters, while Midoriya is just plain insane.

Toki didn’t need to hear anything more about these two to know his RA’s advice wasn’t so much an advice as it was a very grave and serious warning not to be taken lightly especially now, when he faces the two nightmares that has been menacing their elite campus while systemically rewrite their class rankings one test at a time.

“Think of those two as urban legends. Fun to speculate about, but should be avoided at all costs lest you get caught up in it,” she tells him. A familiar refrain he had heard again and again from various seniors already.

“How am I supposed to avoid them when they’re right there in front of me?” he demands heatedly, gesturing wildly toward the two of them. “And what are they even doing anyway?!” Toki stares at his sempai incredulously and she grins, patting his shoulder as though that would offer any comfort to him.

“It’s a Tuesday so Midoriya always stay late at the science library to study so Bakugou often have to come and drag him back to their dorm,” she explains cheerfully against his heavy skepticism. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

He turns his attention back toward the scene unfolding before him, in the middle of the night and under the cloak of darkness, as the blond man proceeds to ignore everything else and drags his partner in what is reminisced of a post-murder action of deposing a body like it’s all a dreadfully normal occurrence that happen on the campus grounds.  Abruptly, the formerly lifeless body jerks up and lets out a pitiful whine as he struggles against the man’s grip. Bakugou drops the body to the ground in a loud thump and walks away without a single word as Midoriya rolls around on the grass for a bit longer before reluctantly drags himself up and chases after Bakugou’s departing figure.

“Kacchan, wait up!” Midoriya shouts after him.  

Toki stares and stares at the empty space they had left behind, stupefied by what he had just witnessed.

“Ah, yes,” Seo says, like the voice of someone who had long suffered under the dangerous duo. “Don’t even try to make sense of it. This is the Bakugou and Midoriya’s show. We’re just lucky enough to get to watch it play out live and not be part of it.”

Chapter Text

Pale blond hair, keen emerald eyes, and a gentle, honeyed smile cresting on her face, she is the darling of the hero’s world and an angel sent from heaven to tame that unruly father of hers – only a fool with think that – but Eijirou knows her by another name: Kasumi-chan, the monster princess.

People often forget behind that pretty smile of hers is Bakugou Katsuki’s daughter and just like her ornery father, she also needlessly wields a sharp and callous mind that cut down anyone stands in her path. Mercilessly and relentlessly, she’s a hell raiser. It’s in her blood.  

“Uncle Eijirou,” she smiles sweetly at him as she approaches, which immediately set off the all alarm bells in his head, “I heard you and Auntie Mina have been trying for a baby.”

“W-what?” Eijirou sputters in his seat. “Where you hear that?!”

“Around.” She gestures vaguely into the distance as though that explain everything. “Now, I have an offer for you: how do you feel about taking in Hanabi? I know he’s not good for much right now since all he does is cry, eat, poop and sleep.” She makes a face. “But I’ve been told that babies outgrow of it eventually and because he came out of Papa, I’m sure he’ll be handsome one day, so you don’t have to worry about him staying ugly for long.”

“W-wait!” Eijirou makes a hacking sound like he’s choking on air as he stares at her incredulously. “A-are you seriously trying to pawn off your new baby brother to me?!”

“Yes!” she chirps up unrepentantly, leaning in close. “I don’t think we need another kid in our household. I’m already perfect.” At that, she puffs up her chest proudly. “Babies are kinda useless, don’t you think? I don’t know why everyone is so fascinated by them when I’m right here.” Her body deflates as her face scrunches up in displeasure. “I just don’t get it!”

Eijirou looks around helplessly for any kind of cavalry coming to his rescue, but the devious brat had zeroed in on him right away when he decided to separate himself from the party for a moment to take a breather. She’s definitely taking no prisoner by the fierce glint of her eyes.

He’s in deep shit this time.

“Kasumi-chan, you know how much everyone and your parents absolutely adore you,” he tries as she preens under his praise, “and Hanabi-chan.” Her face crashes immediately. “Especially to your parents, because you’re both their precious children and they could never choose between you two.”

“Why not,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing with a predatory sheen that keenly reminds him how very much she is Bakugou Katsuki’s ridiculously spoiled daughter. She has been an only child for far too long. “He not only keeps my parents up late at night with insistent crying but they never have enough time to play or pay attention to me! Babies are the literal worst! They’re so gross and annoying, and I just don’t understand why adults go crazy for them!” She rolls her eyes, bristling with contempt. “Just take him back wherever he came from!”

Eijirou’s next words must be chosen with extreme care. “You were like that once too, Kasumi-chan,” he points out.

Kasumi cocks her head, brows furrow, and frowns. A gauntlet of emotions run across her face: confusion, annoyance, and then finally, it settles into disbelief. “Unlikely,” she scoffs. “I was never that irritating. I was the most perfect baby. Grandma Mitsuki always said so.”

“That’s—well,” he starts, thinking of Katsuki’s early years with Kasumi and the anxiety and fear that had bled from him. How even Katsuki, who had bulldozed his way through U.A. and the hero rankings so easily, can be brought down by a babe swaddled in a pink Hello Kitty blanket.

Children can humble even the fiercest of men. Bakugou Katsuki was no exception.

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, “You were a pleasant baby.” She squints at him so he hurriedly corrects himself, “an excellent, wonderful, and most perfect baby.” Which immediately has the effect of lightening her mood up dramatically because someone got to feed that Bakugou’s ego of hers.

“I know,” she agrees amiably, and there’s smugness in those words.

“But,” and this is where he might die, he thinks somberly, “it’s not really Hanabi-chan’s fault he can’t do anything right now. You know he’s young, so he needs a lot of help to do things like you once did. And I’m sorry that you think we’re ignoring you, but he’s just a baby, and he needs so much from us. From you too. You’re his big sister now and he’ll look up to you one day, so won’t try to be kind to him?” Eijirou doesn’t so much go on his knees and beg, but it’s a close thing.

It sounds pretty reasonable to him, a sound defense of Hanabi’s existence while appealing to Kasumi’s powerful sense of pride. Kasumi, for all her the crazy ideas that she get stuck in her head, is logical and thoughtful. Thankfully, that part of her is all Izuku’s. Hopefully, that’ll be something she’ll channel instead.

There’s a beat of silence too heavy between them that makes his skin crawl as Kasumi’s face goes blank and indecipherable. Then, slowly and coldly, she says, “Are you asking me to sacrifice my happiness for that wet diaper rag?”

“No!” he says, aghast. Of course, she took it the wrong way. And, “Is that what you call your baby brother?!”

She folds her arms across her chest. Impertinence lines her body. “I call it as I see it.”

He sighs long-sufferingly. A thing, he quickly finds, to be extremely common around the Bakugou. They’re all going to drive him to an early grave.

“That is not what I meant at all,” Eijirou tries once more. “Just think of a little brother as an investment. Like a tree. He’s small and, uh,” he cringes, “useless right now, but as you care for him one day, he’ll grow older and will bear you fruit of happiness in return.”

She wrinkles her nose at his attempt at persuasion. “That’s dumb,” she points out, cutting through his nonsense with childish bluntness. “Trees can grow by themselves in the wild even without my help and what can Hanabi even give me when I’m not lacking anything? I’m happy with my life,” she insists with narrowed eyes. “Hanabi’s existence doesn’t improve my life in any way. I can’t even think of anything that he did to make me happy since he’d arrived here, so I doubt he’ll be able to change my mind about it in the future too.”

Eijirou shakes his head and almost cry into his hands. Her sheer stubbornness is truly profound. “Kasumi-chan, he’s your brother! You can’t just give him away.”

Frowning, she places her hand on her hip as she stares him down and he feels like he’s pinned to her bull eyes. “If you think he’s so great and all that, then why don’t you just keep him. Take him home with you tonight.”

And they’re back to square one again, he thinks hopelessly. He groans out loud.

“Well, do you want Hanabi or not?” she demands, tapping her foot impatiently.

“I would very much like to keep my head intact,” he answers solemnly, because if Katsuki doesn’t kill him first then Izuku’s disappointed frown would.

Kasumi looks heavenward for a second. “Coward,” she mutters lowly under her breath.

But, clearly, not low enough because he heard it all right. “Hey,” he says defensively. He’d tried. Like, a lot given who he is dealing with and for all the years he had known her, barely able to walk on her own two feet when they first met, he’d only won a handful of battles against her. It doesn’t speak much of his successes.

“Fine,” she huffs, “there’s plenty of other people at this party. I’m sure I’ll find someone else who can take Hanabi with them when they leave.”

Eijirou’s eyes widen and before he can tell her to stop her crazy plan, because seriously, she runs off to find her next victim. For a horrifying moment, he just sits there and considers either going after her, or—or he can get a drink to erase this entire fiasco from his memory.

Yea, a drink sounds about right about now, he thinks hysterically. There are days when Bakugou Kasumi is a trial as much as she is a blessing to the world. This is one of those days. Let’s leave it to her parents to rein her in. He’d already lost the battle, no need to lose the war too.

Chapter Text

"Isn't he, like, thirty-something years old?" Eri says, voice pitched high in a scandalized tone. "That's half of his foot in the grave already! Why is he even dating a college student if this isn't some midlife crisis?!"

Izuku groans out loud. "Eri-chan, please have mercy." For someone who is describe as the takane no hana of their campus, Eri’s tongue can cut deeper than the sharp edge of a blade.

She shoots him a knowing glare. "He just wants a pretty young thing on his arms to compensate for his wrinkle old balls so don't you fall for it, Izuku-kun!"

Truly, the sharpest tongue.

Izuku's face gets so hot that he thinks he's going to combust at any moment from the embarrassment of this entire exchange. "T-that's not—" he starts, gearing up for a defense, but Eri's eyes suddenly widen in front of him and her jaw drops in shock as a hand covers Izuku's mouth to silence his next words.

"Care to repeat that to my face, shitty brat," a familiar voice growls behind him.

Even without looking back, Izuku knows just by the cadence of his voice. The way it dips low and get throaty when he’s annoyed; the curt infliction of his vowels as he drags his consonant around. Izuku knows him by heartbeat. Intimately and surely as the ground under his feet.

His lips brush against a callus palm as he covers the hand over his mouth with his own. Fingers sweeping against the coarse skin that had seen it fair share of battles; losses and victories were tied up in these extraordinary hands. It's the source of his power and strength. Even knowing the danger that can be these familiar hands can impose, Izuku never feels safer than when he is within its cradle. Izuku drags the hand down from his mouth, but doesn't let it go from his grip. Instead, he wraps his fingers around it and holds tight.

It squeezes back.

Izuku’s entire body lets out a small tremor before he can get his voice to work. “K-Katsuki-san,” he murmurs. “What are you doing here?"

The chair besides him scrapes across the floor and Katsuki drops down in the empty seat. "I'm picking you up for lunch," he grunts out.

Eri, who had grown up under strict tutelage of her yakuza grandfather, is no wilting flower. "Hey, wrinkle old man balls," she states flatly, narrowing her eyes at him in contempt. "Aren't you supposed to patrolling and not hang around a college campus, harassing its students?"

Katsuki grits his teeth. "I'm visiting my boyfriend, brat," he retorts sharply. "And I just got out of a twelve hours shift saving annoying people like your ungrateful and mouthy's ass who is reminding me clearly I took up the fucking wrong profession because you're all shit." Izuku casts a furtive glance at Katsuki and sees that he is out of his uniform. Dressed in a casual black dresshirt that is, uh, Izuku breath hitches as he notices the upper two most buttons are left open to reveal tantalizing defined collarbones underneath. He desperately wants to run a careful hand over them, to feel Katsuki's skin pressed against his palm and to know the weight of touching the current number one hero in Japan, who had remained untouchable to the mass, but he’s here right now beside Izuku, holding his hands like it’s not blowing his mind.

Izuku wants to climb inside of him, burrow deep, and not let go. His eyes widen suddenly and he muffles a squeak, hoping nobody notice his strange behavior as he flexes the free hand on his lap while the other hand twitches under Katsuki's grip under the table. His cheeks redden at such strange and lewd thoughts that plague him, but the two in front of him hadn't notice at all.

They're still locked in a heated contention and looks about to leap out of their respective seat and duke out right here, right now. The crowd be damn.

Unimpressed, Eri huffs and crosses her arm imperiously. "I don't trust you or your intention with Izuku-sempai.”  

Katsuki leans back into his seat and raises a brow as casual as you please. "Not that I give a rat's ass about your opinion, but thanks for the info." He turns to Izuku. "What you feel like eating?"

Eri, for the first time in a while is completely disarmed by Katsuki’s provocation, sputters, "Hey, you can't just take him away like that! I was here first and we're not done talking!"

"Yea?" Katsuki muses, brushing his thumb against Izuku's knuckles in deliberate circles that sends spark up Izuku's spine. "So you don't want grab lunch with me, Deku?"

Izuku quickly looks away, chest heaving and breath short as though his lungs don’t quite work. "I—" he flushes, "y-yes, I would very much like to eat lunch with you," he finally squeaks out. He can already feel Eri's outrage, realizing at that moment she got horribly outplayed by Katsuki. Eri makes a wounded noise. “Izuku-sempai! How could you?! You said we were going to hang out today,” she cries out. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knows her like the back of his own hand, he would be scrambling over to her side to grovel for being a horrible friend right then. Izuku winces. "What if I'll buy you dinner and help you with that term paper in our Hero Theory class to make up for it?" he offers.

Her eyes snap to him. "Two dinners, a term paper, and also you're not allow to cancel our plan for next Friday," she counters. "And no stupid boyfriend third wheeling us."

Izuku quickly nods his head. If she had wanted his spleen too he would have readily agree to it, because Eri is unrightfully too good for him. All his friends are really. He's lucky he got them to keep him from falling on his face everytime he does something remotely stupid. Always too caught up with chasing after a good story that he ignored all the danger around him, he'd put himself in harm ways enough times to give Eri greying hair and to be rescued by a grumpy hero who found his fumbling criminal investigation annoying if not a little endearing.

Izuku never could figure out how he of all people managed to snare the Ground Zero, when the first time they'd met Izuku was hanging off a ledge sixty feet off the ground and Katsuki was about to drop him flat onto the concrete slab because he thought Izuku was a part of the League of Villains and the reason why sixteen young girls were missing.

It was beyond a memorable first meeting for them both, and fortunately it wasn't to be their last either.

Katsuki snorts, scooting his chair back. "You're schoolmates," he grumbles, and there's a note of derision in his voice. "You see him even when you don't want to see him." With their joint hands, he tugs Izuku upward and out of his seat with him.

"At least Izuku doesn't have to schedule an appointment with the front office just to see me," she rebukes, eyes flashing. "I mean, wow, must be so hard for you to make time for your own boyfriend."

Katsuki freezes, his hand tightening around Izuku's own. He can feel heat emanating from Katsuki's palm, pressing up against his bare skin danger close but Izuku doesn't break their hold.

"Eri!" Izuku scolds, frowning and Eri has grace to look chastised for a second.

He turns back to Katsuki and gives a comforting squeeze. "I understand," he is quick to assure him. "Your work is much more important." Izuku gets it, because Katsuki is out there putting bad guys in jail and saving people's lives. It's crucial work that keeps this city on track even if these days he can only seem to catch glimpses of Katsuki in the news because he’d slow down on hounding the streets for new lead of criminal activities and updating his crime blog.

Izuku may pretend like he's doing some kind good work out there but he doesn't forget. His investigations can only get him so far when he has no quirk or strength to back it up. The one actually doing the heavy lifting out there are heroes like Katsuki, who’d personally fight all of Izuku's demons and keep Izuku alive and breathing so he can hunt the next big bad menacing the city.

Izuku is no hero. He isn't out there saving people from rampaging villains or protect the country from being run amok by the League. His world is much smaller. He just wants keep Eri from people trying to abuse her quirk or save a kid from being another Kouta out there.

"It's not," Katsuki asserts, pulling Izuku in till he's nearly stumbling into his side. He scowls down at Izuku. "Stop fucking putting yourself down, shitty nerd."

"You're giving him mixed signals here," Eri says dryly. "You can't say something nice and then call him names. You're not very good for Izuku's self esteem, Zero-san."

Even the way she'd tacked on that honorific at the end, it was layered with doubt. Eri is always polite and respectful up until the point she isn't and even then she keeps her guard up. Maybe it’s because of her yakuza backgound and how people had used her for her quirk in the past, but she didn't have a lot of friends to begin with and those whom she do consider friends, she's extremely protective of. Izuku is lucky she's even consider he’s worthy enough remain by her side.

Katsuki's eyes flash to her in a hard glare as Eri meets it dead on unrepentantly. "Shut the fuck up," he hisses, carding his free hand through his hair in frustration. Eri's words seem to have hit its mark.

"Eri," Izuku pleads, turning to her with desperation, "don't."

Eri sighs and waves them off. "Fine, fine, I won't harassed you anymore," she says with an easy shrug. "You may take Izuku-sempai and go, but do bring him back in one piece or I'll have to call upon my grandfather." It's not an idle provocation. They all know who her grandfather is. Katsuki, who always buttheads with Eri, may find her grating at times but never scary. Not of her quirk or her grandfather. Not then, and certainly not now either. It's an admirable quality of Katsuki that Eri had admitted to liking one night in the hush of his dorm room. He bares his teeth at her, sharp edges and full of bites. "Oh, don't bother, I'll be happy to meet your dear old man later when he's behind bars with the rest of his yakuza cohorts," he says, cut for cut. Vicious barb for vicious barb. He's merciless.

Eri stands up abruptly. "Hey, you—!" But the rest of her sentence is cut off when Katsuki drags Izuku away.

"Don't worry, I'm only half fucking with you, brat," he throws over his shoulder, voice alight in laughter as Eri makes a muffled scream of frustration.

"That's mean," Izuku murmurs, bumping Katsuki's shoulder meaningfully.

"And she isn't?" he counters, raising his brow at Izuku. "I'm not going to be nice to her just because you adopted her like a damn stray. If she wants to pick a fight with me that badly, I'm going to give it my all."

"She's just protective, you know," Izuku says, strolling hand in hand with Katsuki through the quad area of the campus. Trying not to pay attention to several people stopping midtrack and nearly breaking their neck as they realize who's walking beside him. Katsuki makes a grunt of acknowledgment. "Good. She should be if she got a trouble magnet like you as friend."

Izuku's feet skid to a halt, pulling Katsuki to a stop with him. Katsuki turns to him with a befuddled expression. "You like her!" he accuses, absolutely delighted.

Katsuki's face flash in horror. "No!" he yells, flustered. "Fuck no! I don't like that little witch."

"It's okay, I'll keep your secret," Izuku teases.

Katskuki scowls as he leans closer in. "Shut your dirty mouth or I'll do it," he says, and kisses Izuku to that effect before he can say anything about it.

Izuku’s knees doesn’t buckle under the careful attention Katsuki’s mouth gave him; his tongue teases and prods at Izuku until Izuku is completely compliant in his hands. How unfair, he think, face flushed and lips throbbing from the bruises of Katsuki’s kiss as Katsuki draws back with a smirk on his face.

Izuku clears his throat and looks away for a second as he regains his bearings. “D-do you need me for something?” he asks. Surely, Katsuki isn’t here on his campus just to take him out to eat right? “Is there a case you want me to look into?”

Katsuki frowns, brows pinching as annoyance flickers pass his face. “No. I want to grab lunch with you because I fucking miss you, brat,” he grumbles a surly as always, but his words leaves him breathless.

“Oh,” he says, eyes rounded with surprise.

He thinks of all the time Katsuki seems larger than life, this great and famed hero who save the world again and again, this unattainable man is more like a figment of Izuku’s dreams than anything, so how could he ever be with someone so boring and ordinary like Izuku? But, when Katsuki say something like this and Izuku hopes, oh, how hope burns with him, because slowly but surely, Katsuki would come to love him just as much as Izuku does one day. One day that will come.

Chapter Text

Three days after the Earl of Aldera was spotted with an oiran in a Yoshiwara’s teahouse, causing the rumor mill to spin in a heated gossip over it, Izuku wakes up that morning to the steward tentatively informing him that the lord had just slipped in late last night, dishevel and tired.

Without dropping his polite smile, Izuku thanks and asks him to have the cook prepare a luncheon for him and the lord instead of breakfast, and that they’ll be eating in the garden for this afternoon.

With his orders given, Fujino is dismissed, but he hesitates. Face wary, brows furrowing with consternation briefly before he opens his mouth. “This old servant has been watching over the Bakugou family since the time of Lady Mitsuki’s father and I know the Bakugou have always been steadfast in their marriage vows,” he says solemnly. “Do not care for the careless whisper of others, Master Izuku.”

Izuku pauses, turning his head toward down the long hallway where the lord’s chamber lies. The distant between his and Katsuki’s chamber is but a minute walk, yet it feels enormous all the same.

“I know,” he agrees, smile tights around the corners. “He’s an honorable man, but forgive me for not being such a dutiful spouse to let my husband disappear for an entire week without a single word and not fret about it.”

There’s not a trace of an angry infliction held in his words, but it spears Fujino in the heart with the severity of the lord’s sin laid out in front of him like that. “M-master Izuku—” he starts, face flushed with anxiety, but Izuku quickly cuts him off with a dismissive wave.

“Do not worry, I will only have a talk with him,” he says plaintively. “As I understand it, it’s not his fault he finds me difficult to confide in.”

The smile cresting on Izuku’s face is now crooked and detached like it’s going to fall off at any moment because someone had haphazardly plastered it on and didn’t bother to check if it was done right before disappearing.

It feels fake. He feels fake.

It’s as fake at that smile he’d worn against the sharp tongue of various lords and ladies at the theater house. Their sly but pointed inquiry into his marriage and the speculative looks they had sent him when they had found his answer lacking. He’d learned to endure it all with a smile.

Fujino’s lips part as though to argue, but quickly thought against it, snapping his mouth shut. The marriage affair between the nobility is a confounding but interesting melodrama that keeps the idle tongue of many people wagging for months. Gossip is a theater that sells no ticket but is always packed, and for the member of the elite class of Kazoku, their kind of playhouse is ripe with scandals.

“I see,” he says, lowering his head. “I’ll have lunch set up for you in a few hours.”

The breath didn’t know Izuku was holding escapes him in a long, weary exhale the moment after the Fujino takes his leave. Izuku leans against the wall, gathering his thought and dispelling the somber cloud hanging over him. He slaps his cheeks in a resounding smack.

“Alright,” he murmurs to himself. His cheeks sting, but the pain is grounding. “You can do this, Izuku.”

He pushes himself away from the wall and heads back into his chamber. He calls several maids to him and have them assist him out of his current kimono, a subdued brown iromuji. Earlier, Izuku had them help him get dressed in it and now he’d seemingly changed his mind on his chosen attire for the day, but their puzzle expression is fleeting. Their careful and deft hands quickly strips him to the nagajuban layer before placing a new kimono, the one he’d selected, over him once more.

It’s a bright blue houmongi with white peonies descending from the left shoulder, to the left sleeve, and down to the bottom hem. It’s more formal and lavish than his earlier austere choice of a kimono. This one commands attention and expects nothing less than that. If there’s ever a lesson to be learned from his nanny and mother is that alphas are strong. Their strength lies in their ability to exert dominance over others and command an entire room with the sheer force of their will. That is power, but there’s no one absolute way to it.

Here is what Izuku knows: Katsuki is an alpha of good standing and noble birth. He had seen it firsthand how Katsuki is undeniably strong, smart, and brave; a true patriot to his country, who has undertaken the crown’s mission to solve the worst afflicted crimes in the country.

Izuku’s husband is amazing, but Izuku isn’t lacking either. He can’t be if he is to stand by Katsuki’s side. He may not run around Tokyo, haunting brothels and slumming it in gambling dens to weed out miscreant of society, but Izuku wages a battle of wits and arms himself with just as lethal weapon as Katsuki’s fist. An omega’s battlefield is in the space of their home and in society’s arena. This is where many battles are fought, where wars are won and lost. Izuku’s sword is the sharp edge of his smile, his courtesy is his infallible shield, and each piece of clothes and accessories add layer to his armor. These are the measure of his strength; it’s not as obvious as Katsuki’s but it’s there and Izuku wields it deftly. He maintains Katsuki’s household in an orderly shape, defends Katsuki’s reputation against gossip mongering fools, and all the while keeps the facade of the perfect marriage between them. It’s a trial, but Izuku perseveres on because he’s a good, dutiful husband. He is the kind of omega his mother had stringently taught to put family and duty first, even at the cause of his happiness.

He did everything correctly, yet Katsuki still doesn’t acknowledge any of his effort. Izuku has had enough. He’s going to war, and he’s taking no prisoner.

A gold fukuro-obi with phoenix embroidery on the sash is wrapped around his waist. He has a maid switches out the simple jade tama kanzashi adorning his hair for a more pronounce hirauchi kanzashi pinned to his bun in the crest of the Bakugou family.

It’s all decorative, but piece by piece, each layer on top of the other, it’s a carefully orchestrated show that bellies a statement to all eyes. This is his armor of choice as he stares at the elegant and poise creature in the mirror that he hardly recognizes as himself anymore. This strange, confident man standing before him isn’t Izuku, but if he’s to dressed the part, then he’ll play the part. He always been good at stepping into the roles other had placed before him; the expected betrothed, the contentious spouse, and now the firm master of the household.

“Thank you,” he tells the maids before dismissing them. Emboldened now, he strolls into Katsuki’s study that he’d taken over since his arrival at the manor because his husband finds being trapped behind a desk to be criminally boring; he rather be out there raising hell and dodging bullets instead.

He spends the next hours combing over the household budget, reviewing party invites, and replying to missives from acquaintances. It keeps him busy and distracted enough that when a knock on the door from Fujino, informing him that they’re ready for him. catches him by surprise.

“Lunch is set up in the garden pavilion as you requested, Master Izuku,” Fujino says.

“Is my husband awake yet?” he asks as he gets up from his seat.

“The lord had just woken up a moment ago.”

“Good,” Izuku says, stepping around the desk, “have him meet me there then.” It’s not a request.

Fujino lower his head in acknowledgement, knowing this is command won’t be easy to comply but it won’t be deny either. Servants are the ears and hands of Kazoku’s household, privy to all sort of secrets, that it makes Izuku wonder what do the servants of the Bakugou household has to say about the marital spat of their lord and master? Nothing good, probably.

But they’re loyal and discreet, and he can count on them not to spread rumors about the Earl of Aldera and his new spouse’s turbulent marriage that ended Izuku in one bedchamber and Katsuki in the other and stilted conversation shared between them over sparse dinner, however true they may be.

Izuku walks toward the back garden of the manor, a massive green space that’s a mixture of eastern design and western influence. There is a large lotus pond, cascading waterfalls, and stones path that is the hallmark of tradition, but also a hedge maze and a fountain centerpiece hailing influence from the west. Normally, when he’s at the manor, he can be found in the office or in the library, but when he got time to spare, he would wander through the garden, listless in thoughts. It reminds him of home, of the countryside that he had left behind so he can marry Katsuki.

This small measure of a paradise is his haven.

The gazebo is on the other side of a short bridge, arching over a pond with fishes swimming under it. He strolls up to it and immediately spots the plates of food already prep for him and his guest on a bamboo patio table. He takes a seat and pours himself a cup of hot tea.

And waits.

The tea is cool in his hand by the time the unmistakable musky, bitter scent of an angry alpha storm into the area, making his nose twitch in annoyance. The pungent scent is followed by the disgruntle face of Izuku’s husband, glaring at him across the bridge.

Izuku puts his teacup down as Katsuki marches toward the gazebo, hands balled at his side and a frown etched onto his handsome face. A ticked off alpha is discerning, but so is an omega, and their wrath isn’t a fleeting thing.

“You had the servants dragged me here?!” he spits. He glowers down at Izuku, eyes narrowed in contempt. His presence a dark and domineering thing that makes Izuku’s hand twitches minutely under the pressure he exerts over him. It’s hard to breathe all of a sudden. “Did you already forget who is the master of this household?”

Izuku smiles thinly. “That is difficult to say when you’re rarely home as it is, and I’ve been the one managing the entire household affair while you’re gone, my lord.” He cocks his head curiously. “Did you at least enjoy your time with Oiran Aoyagi at the Magnolia teahouse?”

Face red with outrage, Katsuki sputters out, “W-what, no, that is—I—”

Taking pity on him, Izuku cuts in, “Please sit and eat first.” He gesture to the food on the table. “We can talk afterward.” He looks like he’s about to argue, but Izuku is already picking up his chopsticks, shutting down the entire argument before it can even begin.

Lunch is a quiet and stiff affair, full of stilted silence and sullen glances from Katsuki. The food had long since cool and the conversation is left halted in the air between, hanging over them like a dark, ominous cloud that neither of them is willing to address right now.

Izuku can count only a handful of times in his memory that he was able to share a meal with the person sitting across from him since he’d arrived here. Often he’ll find himself eating a table of food all alone in this large manor with only his thoughts to keep himself company.

It’s a strange existence to go from the rowdy, loud atmosphere of his own home—Kouta’s rambunctious laughter, father’s calm tenor, and mother’s fond sigh—to this empty nest. He wonders when will this manor feels like another home to him, and if that day will actually ever come.

“Are you going anywhere after this?” Katsuki manages out between bites.

The unexpected question startles Izuku. “No,” he says with a curious tilt to tone.  

Katsuki stares at Izuku, eyes dropping from his face to the neckline of his kimono and then to the obi wrap tightly around his waist. “Then why are you dressed like that?”

He pauses, cocking his head. “Is there a problem with how I dress?” He had prepared this outfit to draw strength from, but Katsuki’s sudden acute attention to his choice of attire makes him self-conscious. He shifts in his seat and deliberately adjusts his collar as though that will keep him distracted from Katsuki’s heated gaze.  

“No, you look—“ he stops, swallows, and lets the rest of the sentence die on his tongue. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Dress however you like.” And goes back to eating, silent and surly.

Izuku’s brows pinch in puzzlement about this strange broach of topic, but Katsuki doesn’t appear to be receptive to further probing, so he too resumes eating.

The rest of the luncheon is a stifling affair as they both stew in their awkward and taut silence.

Izuku stares down at his half-finished lunch, a bowl of rice and grilled fish, and suddenly doesn’t find it appetizing anymore. He looks over at Katsuki who is wearing a constipated expression on his face as he shoves food into his mouth like every bite physically pains him.

If Izuku wasn’t still nursing his anger from earlier, he would have to find Katsuki’s sulky action to be stupidly endearing, which honestly says a lot about him and what a fool he truly is.

“How do you find the food so far,” he asks, a smile painted across his face once more. “I’ve been told it’s made to your specific taste, my lord, but you must have had finer meals when you were at the Magnolia teahouse.” He slips his hands under the table, wringing it unseen. “I have heard of many great things about that place. A world of dreams, they call it. It’s where all your fantasies can be fulfilled and every courtesan is lovelier than the last.” His nails digging into his flesh, but the smile remains in place. “Many people have said that Oiran Aoyagi is easily the most beautiful the flower there. Truly a dream made real. I’m sure you are well acquainted with that knowledge since you spent so much time there.” He’s rambling now, he knows, but he can’t stop this stream of bitter words from spilling out. “I can see why though. He’s not only beautiful but I’ve heard he’s talented in various arts too. Maybe I should consider taking lessons from him since I’m lacking the necessary qualities—”

A hand slams down on the table, rattling all the silverwares and making Izuku swallow the rest of his words in shock. “Stop,” Katsuki says, low and foreboding. “Just fucking stop it.”

Caustic anger emanates from him. The air is pungent with his oppressive presence. The fact that they’re outside shouldn’t make Izuku feels so trapped of a sudden, but Katsuki’s scent has always been an imposing and a tyrannical thing that can easily bully even other alphas.

Izuku bites back a whimper, crossing his legs under the table and pinching his hand to keep himself from slipping out of the chair to fall on his knees before his husband. He won’t be unmade here. He refuses to. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?” he asks, keeping his voice steady. He smiles placatingly. “I’m sure we can easily resolve it if we talk it over.”

“That right there! That fake ass smile of yours,” Katsuki accuses, gesturing toward Izuku’s face as though that explains everything. “Stop pussyfooting around. I don’t need your polite pleasantries bullcrap.” He sneers. “If you’re furious, then just tell it to me straight instead of treating me like one of those empty-headed fools you like to hang around with.” He glowers at Izuku. “I’m your husband, not some insipid hanger-on you have to woo and ply with pretty words to get your way. If you’re mad at me. Fine. Yell at me. Hit me. Throw something. I don’t care, but don’t you fucking dare hide your real self from me behind that phony smile.”

Izuku’s eyes round in surprise. “I—” His gaze drops to his lap helplessly. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be proper.” No matter how angry he feels, how hurt had dug its teeth into his battered heart, he just couldn’t allow himself to express it fully. He can’t expose his ugly side to Katsuki.

“Fuck propriety,” Katsuki snarls. “If you’re upset, then you’re upset. Don’t spare my feelings. Especially when you think I have done you wrong.”

Izuku jerks his head up. Heart constricting tightly, he asks warily, “So you—?”

Realizing what he’d just implied, Katsuki hurriedly spits out, “Fuck no, I didn’t cheat on you with Aoyagi.” He pauses. “Or with anyone for that matter.”

“Oh,” Izuku says stupidly for lack of a better word, even as Katsuki’s confirmation warms him all over. He didn’t doubt Katsuki’s fidelity from the start, but hearing it said out like this suddenly makes it easier for him to breathe.

Katsuki sighs, rubbing his face tiredly like a man at war. “Just stop whatever you were doing earlier. Be mad, get mad, whatever. Just don’t be so distant.” He turns away, ears flushing red. “Don’t treat me like everybody else. I can’t stand it when push me away like that.”

“Oh,” Izuku says again. Dumb and so irrevocably in love in that moment.

Since the time when Izuku was seven and discovered his fate was bound to another boy, he’d trained and learned all there was so that one day he can stand equal to his future husband. To be the master of the household, a good omega, and a worthy spouse just like his lady mother.

Compose. Strong in mind and sharp in wits. An unfaltering smile. Fiercely protective, but endlessly gentle and empathetic. Dutiful and ever faithful. These are the qualities that ultimately shaped his mother. Izuku can only hope emulates a quarter of Lady Inko’s imperviousness, but no matter how hard he’d tried to follow in his mother’s imposing footsteps, to never falter in his duties or bring dishonor to his husband and family, that sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night drowning cold sweats, haunted by this sense of helpless failure.

He wants to be good, but he doesn’t always know what that even means when he has to endure the snide remarks from outsiders about his wayward, troublesome husband with only a smile as his shield and his tongue the sharpest blade he can wield to defend himself and their marriage. No matter how much faith he holds in Katsuki’s words and the fidelity that he’d promised to Izuku and no matter how much he loves this honorable and stubborn man who bows to no one, he still waver occasionally; he doubts. This weakness in him is so abhorrence and horrid that he hates himself for it.

Izuku bites his lower lip, eyes catch the edge of the table, and breathes. “I,” an exhale, “I am indeed very furious with you.” Katsuki’s breath hitches. “And with myself mostly. I know you and I trust you, but you never tell me anything. Refused to even mention to me you were going to disappear for a week like that isn’t important information at all! I had to find that out from our steward!” His voice rise with every offense laid out at Katsuki’s feet. “And whenever anyone ask about your absence, which keeps happening that they don’t even bother pretend to be surprised when you’re not there with me, I had to come up with excuses for you!” He turns to Katsuki, his smile no longer in place because frustration has now overwritten it. “All the while rumors were getting around about you hanging out with prostitutes at teahouses and I had to keep smiling while getting speared by the truthful accusations, because you had tea with Oiran Aoyagi but I wouldn’t tell them why. Couldn’t, really, because I knew nothing about it.”

Eyes startling wide, Katsuki gasps out, “Deku, I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, holding his hand out to cut him off, “I’m not done,” he huffs. “You asked me to be honest and I’m trying here.” All the hurt and anger he had been nursing begins to stir and rise to the surface. “So yes, I am mad at you,” he admits softly, “but more than anything I’m furious with myself because while I insist on defending you and our marriage against these detractors, I find myself struggling to not believe their empty slanders as more days passed by.”

Katsuki bristles in offense. “I told I didn’t—wouldn’t do that shit.”

Izuku sighs. “I know,” he says, wringing the sleeve of his kimono in his hand. “I’m fully aware of your obsessive nature about honoring your vows, my lord, but that doesn’t stop me from being insecure and doubtful, wishing that I was in Aoyagi-san’s place instead.”

“You,” Katsuki’s voice sounds oddly skeptical, “were jealous? You?!”

Izuku flushes, ducking his head as though to hide. “Very much so.” It is so petty and rather childish of him. “Oiran Aoyagi is known to be beautiful and well versed in many talents and I, well, am just me.” He gestures to himself casually and grimaces. “I’m fully aware that I’m old-fashioned, simple, and boring. I’m not a good much to a future duke, but I do my best to fulfill my duty as your husband.” He smiles crookedly. “Though that doesn’t mean I can compete with a high-class oiran.”

Katsuki glares at him. “Who the fuck said that to you?! I fucking rip their tongue out of their mouth if they dare.”

“But that is the truth, is it not?” he muses. It sounds deprecating even to his own ears, but it’s hard to argue with facts.  

“You,” Katsuki pinches his nose and heaves a sigh, “yes, you’re nothing like Aoyagi, but it doesn’t make it necessary bad. Aoyagi is,” he makes a face of utter disgust, “annoying. He says a lot, but it’s all empty words to get his clients to fatten his purse in the end and make you dance in the palm of his hands. He’s smart and knows how to read people, but it’s used to further his goals.” He leans back into his chair tiredly. “You can never let your guard down around him because if there’s even a crack in your defense, he’ll slip through and find what makes you tick so he can use it against you later. He didn’t survive this far by being a pretty, empty-headed doll,” he continues.

The words are biting, but there’s also a grudging sense of admiration and pride tucked in there. It makes Izuku’s chest tighten uncomfortably, wondering if Katsuki will ever think that way about him one day. Aoyagi and Katsuki are friends, even if he doesn’t admit it.

He looks at Izuku, pinning him with a pointed look that leaves him breathless. “Then there’s you, and there’s plenty to say about that.”

Izuku blushes, cheeks burning with such implication. “That’s not—”

“Shut the fuck up, it’s my turn to talk now.” Katsuki scoffs. “I can be a blind fool sometimes to not see what it’s right in front of me, but now I know how hardworking you are for one, faithful for another, but most of all you’re kind even when the world isn’t kind to you back.” His gaze softens as Izuku squirms under it. “Sometimes it’s harder to be kind than it is to be cruel. I would know, because my first reaction to any offense is to lash out and hurt them back, but you,” he grins sardonically, “would reach out and ask if there’s something first. It’s stupidly softhearted of you because not everyone have some sob story for you to save them from,” he flinches at those words, but Katsuki continues on undaunted, “but the fact that you try to empathize first with them make you better than most people. At least better than me and Aoyagi.”

His last sentence is bitter and self-condemnatory. It reminds Izuku that Katsuki was a soldier, a war hero by everyone’s measure, but any mention of war and the things he had done out there always draws a conflicted and dour expression his face.

“My hands are unclean. I had only trade one battlefield for the next,” he once said in a discussion of his employment with the crown. “Fighting is all I ever known, and this is how I found value in what I am.”

It had made Izuku’s heart ached when he’d first heard it.

“So if I hear anyone put my husband down like that again, I’ll drag them out and beat their ass bloody.” Katsuki glares at him. “Even if that person is yourself, you hear me Deku?!”

Mouth drops open, but no words come out of Izuku. He sucks in a deep breath and with his chest feels like it’s going to collapse within itself, his manages get out, “Y-yes, I understand, Kacchan.” It’s the familiar nickname that he had given to Katsuki when they first met all those years ago, but left behind when he didn’t think he could call him that anymore.

It’s Katsuki’s turn to look away, ears red and right hand drumming anxiously on the table. “Good,” he says, clearing his throat and looking like he’s about to make a run for it. “If that’s everything we have to say...”

“I wish to come with you on your next job,” Izuku gently broaches the subject, but apparently not gentle enough because Katsuki’s hand forcibly grips the edge of the table so hard that it makes a dent on it. He stares at it, then back to Katsuki’s ominous expression.

“No,” Katsuki asserts, eyes narrowed and lips pinched. “Absolutely fucking not. If I take you with me, I know some dirtbag is going to say something offensive in front of you, so I’m going to have to duel them to defend your honor. Then it’ll devolve into an utter shitshow.”

Izuku pouts. “Why not? I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do,” Katsuki retorts. “I won’t have you hanging around the dregs of society in Yoshiwara.”

Izuku raises a brow. “And you can? You’re the heir to a dukedom.”

“Yes, because I know exactly what kind of people they are,” he snaps sharply, eyes narrowed. “They aren’t like your high society friends whom you have tea with thrice a week. These are people who have to scrape the bottom of the barrel just to survive. They’re grifters. Scavengers. Outcasts of society. Do you know how many people go missing there a month?” he demands.

Izuku shakes his head numbly, mouth drying.

“Too many to count.” He makes a face. “Too many for the police to do anything even though that’s somebody’s child, parent, sibling, or significant other. It doesn’t matter to them because Yoshiwara is too wild to be tamed so they don’t bother.” He glances at Izuku, eyes heavy and piercing. “That’s why I can’t bring you there. It’s not safe.”

Izuku recalls just the day before Katsuki had disappeared, when he’d read the headline of the sixth mutilated body found in Yoshiwara that morning and grim determination set in his eyes afterward. “But it’s not all bad, is it?” he prods.

Katsuki pauses thoughtfully. “No, it’s not all bad.” He wouldn’t  have spend so much time away from home, away from Izuku, to hunt down the worst of the worsts in Yoshiwara if he didn’t care—if he didn’t think this place and its people are worth his time and effort to help them.

Izuku may not understand everything that has to do with Katsuki’s job, but this he gets at least. He smiles. “So take me with you on your next job then.”

Katsuki frowns. “Did you not hear what I just said about how dangerous it is there?!”

He nods his head, amused. “I did, but you also said it’s not all bad there, and I’m sure the Great Hound of the Empire would have no problem keeping his husband safe, right?”

Katsuki’s frown morphs into a deep scowl. “How did it take me this long to realize how incredibly annoying and stubborn you are?!”

Izuku’s smile broadens. The sharp edge of Katsuki’s words doesn’t cut him as cruelly as before. His skin had grown too thick and he knows by now that when Katsuki wants it to hurt, he won’t use any flimsy knife and he’ll go for the throat. “If you had cared to spend more time with me then, maybe...”

Katsuki winces. “I was neck-deep several cases.”

“I know,” he says, resting his hands on the table. “I understand how easy it is for you to get caught up in one of your cases.” Too many times he’d seen Katsuki dragging his exhausted body home with a haunted expression on his face, haunted by the ghosts of the people he couldn’t save. For all his prickly and rough exterior, Katsuki easily bled for the people under his care. It’s what Izuku loves the most about him; his tin can soldier with a bruised heart. “But as much I claim to understand your motivation, I only wish to be included in your world.” His gazes drop forlornly down to his hands. “You never tell me anything. I don’t know where you’re going, how you’re doing, or who you’re meeting up with when you leave the manor. The only news I get about you are from the mouth of others, and even then it does not quell my anxiety and dread.” He clenches his hands, nails digging into his palm. “You’d said that the places and the people you encounter far too dangerous for me, so don’t you think I have that same concern for you when you’re out there running around in dark alleys and I don’t know if you’re safe at all?”

Katsuki opens his mouth, closes it, and sighs.

Feeling momentarily courageous and encourage by Katsuki’s lack of a rebuttal, he continues to press on, going for the throat. “And I wish to personally meet with Oiran Aoyagi for a one-on-one conversation,” he adds blithely.

“Huh?!” Katsuki demands. “Didn’t I just explain to you that nothing is going on between us?”

“It’s not about that.” Izuku rolls his eyes. Honestly. “I only want to seek advice and to learn from him.”

He splutters in outrage. “What the fuck do you even have to learn from a prostitute? You’re my husband! The spouse of an earl! I won’t have you be seen with him like that.”

Izuku’s lips thin out. “And yet you can, my lord?” he says dryly. “What’s the difference between you and me then?”

“That’s not it.” Katsuki shakes his head, frustration blackening his mood. “You’re not listening to me! Do you think this is all fun and game to me? I go there for work and not to play. You keep insisting you understand, but clearly you don’t know what sort of place it is.”

Under the table, Izuku slips his foot out of the zori and extends his leg toward Katsuki as he drones on about Izuku’s lack of preservation skill.

“I can’t let you tagged along like this is some playdate,” he spats. “And what do you even plan to talk to Aoyagi about—” Izuku keeps a carefully neutral expression as he attempts one move he’d read in one of Lady Momo’s highly recommended sordid romance novels.

He’s painfully new at this game of seduction, but he’s willing to learn and this seems easy enough to start especially now when Katsuki looks like he’s want to strangle him for even considering going with him to Yoshiwara. Maybe this will be enough to distract him from his rant.

“—do you think Aoyagi is just going to happily have tea with you like you’re bosom friends?!” Izuku’s leg creeps over to Katsuki’s pants leg and he runs his foot around the ankle first.

Katsuki’s speech ceases at the touch. Eyes widen in shock. Mouth agape as he stares at Izuku. Izuku continues to keep his face blank as he moves his socked foot toward the calve, slowly making its way upward toward the thigh and—Katsuki jerks out of his seat so unexpectedly and forcibly that he kicks the table with his knees hard. So hard that the wooden legs give away and breaks.

Izuku quickly withdraws his leg and blinks as their lunch comes crashing onto the floor and the table cracks in half under the force of Katsuki’s sudden and violent shock. He scrambles away from Izuku, mouth snapping open then shut. Again and again as he struggles to find words. Face flushed, hands clenched into a fist by his side as his eyes darts across the garden, anywhere but at Izuku. He looks manic and helpless, and Izuku is stunned by the sight of his fierce and steadfast husband so out of sort because he played footsie with Katsuki under the table.

Izuku rises to his feet, feeling like went at this completely wrong. Wasn’t this how people flirt with their spouse? Was the book wrong? It is a romance novel. It’s fiction. Not exactly a how to guide to woo one’s spouse. Perhaps he got the right idea after all to seek help from Oiran Aoyagi to properly seduce Katsuki if his first time flirting went this badly.

Distressed, Izuku steps around the broken plates and wasted food. “F-forgive me, Kacchan,” he says, chagrin. “I didn’t mean to offend with my amateurish flirtation skill.” He wrings his hands anxiously. “I’ll make sure to do better next time!”

Katsuki makes a strangled noise that sounds like a dying animal.  “Who the fuck taught you that,” he demands furiously, still refusing to meet Izuku’s eyes. “Don’t ever to do that again. With anyone.” He clears his throat. “Now if you would excuse me, I have some matters to attend to.” And he turns around and runs off, leaving Izuku alone and terribly confused in the aftermath.

Was he not being to forward enough? Maybe that was just too weak. He’ll just be more aggressive in the future, Izuku swears to himself. 

Chapter Text

Izuku knows lost. Intimately and keenly, knows what it's like to be cut so deeply, this throbbing ache that would dull with time but doesn't ever truly go away. This wound that is left out in the open to fester and scab over; he carry these scars with him wherever he goes but he'd never been the one to leave it on others. To be the one people would mourn over—a living ghost of a future Midoriya Izuku.

Four years from Izuku’s own timeline, the League of Villains will triumph over the heroes and seven years from that he’ll break all his friends’ heart and left them with nothing but fond memories and a burnt corpse. He'll die crudely, tragically, and young on a pyre in front of thousands of people as an example: this is what we do to your best and brightest; this will be you soon.

Izuku is only nineteen years old and he is uneasily familiarized with death as much as he’s accustomed to the cadence of his own heartbeat, but then he's not in a war with a totalitarian regime and more than a decade older, fighting alongside his friends as veterans of an urban warfare where the casualties climbed exponentially whenever they don their mask and step out onto the battlefield. This is his future, this bleak existent of fighting and endless battles, and all the lives that will be lost in order to secure a world free of AFO's tyrannical grip, but he won't be able to take part of that. He was there in the beginning, but he won't have the privilege to see it through the end.

His life was snuffed out so easily and quickly that it isn't fair to his friends to have their past smacked them right in their face by not only the arrival of an Izuku who hadn't died in front of them but his future hasn't come to pass yet. Izuku is sorry that his sudden arrival in their future timeline doesn’t bring them any comfort or a balm to heal the hole in their heart that their Izuku's death had left behind, but it's not like he wish to know how he'll die before his time and this will become of his world. Of his friends.

They're his classmates, comrades, who he had fought side by side with but even as he recognizes his friends in their weathered hands, scarred face, broad shoulders, and wary stance, they're different now. War isn't kind, less so for those who step foot on the battlefield every day.

Tenya walks with a limp. Half of Shouto's body was a disfigured in a blast. Ochako's hand was replaced with prostatic. Kirishima's right arm is stuck in his quirk form. Ashido's skin is rippled with scars from torture. It's hell.

Izuku can't begin to wrap his head around to what they had experience—survived—to just live another day, but it's the way they carefully dance around his arrival into their future that makes it hundred times more unbearable. As soon as they realized who he was, they stuffed him away in one of their most secured safehouse in an underground bunker. He gets a rotating set of guardians who watched over him every waking minute.

He knows it's all for his safety, but it's a gilded cage nonetheless.

There is always someone with him at all time and it's the face of people he recognizes. Sometimes it's Ochako and her weary smiles, other times it's Shouto and his quiet relief, or Koda and his comforting hands, and then there's Yaoyorozu and her calming presence.

They all seem to deal with him in certain ways that leave him thankful if a bit confused, but none as troubling and agonizing as Bakugou, whose silence stare leaves Izuku's breathless and nervous under his intense scrutiny. He doesn't speak much. Or at all when he stay over. Barely even acknowledging Izuku's existence next to him even though the space is small and Izuku is the only other breathing soul in sight. He treats Izuku like a nonentity; his expression is so carefully blank that it's like bumping his shoulders against an impenetrable mountain.

It doesn't feel like his Katsuki, this quiet shadow of his former shelf, but sometimes, when Izuku looks back and catches him just right before his walls of cool indifference go back right up Izuku can see the raw pain in his eyes like Izuku is an open wound he'd never heal from. Izuku is not blind nor is he a fool. Whatever passes between Izuku and his Katsuki in his own timeline is nothing comparable to the weight of this future Katsuki’s stare and the barbed wire of his feelings toward a dead version of himself. That isn’t indifference. Not even close.

There is real regret. It’s a sword edge hangs precariously between them, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Reminding them of their folly—the Izuku who will let himself be killed before his time, and the Katsuki who could do nothing but watched as he died. It would be easier, comforting even, if Bakugou had resented him for it, to call out his future’s self weakness that had ultimately led to his death and the shattered heart of all their friends.

Izuku would have preferred that to this—to see him mourn over Izuku’s ghost while Izuku stands before him.

Were they close friends in this timeline? Lovers? Or perhaps something else entirely? Is that why Bakugou wears his pain like the black veil of a grieving widow. Izuku thinks of his future and the him that had caused all of this, and how callous of him to leave this all behind. How could he ever thought of leaving this man who cares so deeply about him that the wound Midoriya left behind is deeper than any deep seeded scars on Bakugou?

Izuku doesn't know the whole story, just snatches and pieces from the loose lips of his guardians who carefully filtered info coming in and out of Izuku's ears. It's for his safety and future they had insisted but he can read between the lines. They don't trust him. Not completely. Not that Izuku blame them. This isn't his fight yet. He's just an interloper into their world just like the day he'd found himself right in the middle of a warzone and the sight that greeted him was hell. A living breathing hell of dead bodies and fallen concretes and debris.

There was a war and Izuku was definitely not where, or when, he was supposed to be. All around him were fights and quirks going off in the distance and Izuku had never felt more alone or an outlier. A trespasser into his very own dark future.

And in the midst of all of that chaos, a hand roughly grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him in a brutalizing hug. Then, he was staring into the unflinching glare of an older Bakugou Katsuki with an eye patch and a deep diagonal scar cutting through his left eye and down to his other cheek.

Words didn’t need to transpire between them for Izuku to understand. This wasn’t his world. This wasn't his Katsuki but his heart had ached all the same for the pain wrought all over the man's face at the sight of him and the way he held Izuku in his grip; forceful, desperate, and unyielding like he was afraid Izuku would disappear on him with a whiff of the wind. In the startling chaos of that moment, there was no real clarity for him, but the tragedy all around him was made fleshed by the man holding him in his arms.

"S-sorry," slipped from Izuku's lips.

He didn't know what he was apologizing for just as long he can get rid of that grief stricken look on this man's face. No matter what world he was in or what version of Katsuki he encounters, he never wants to be the reason for the hurt on Katsuki. As long as there exist an Izuku in the world, no Katsuki would ever bear such burden alone. So he leaned into the embrace with arms folded over the broad figure. Bakugou stiffened against him, but slowly and surely he let himself be drown in Izuku’s hold like a parched man devoid of a single drop of water for a very long time.  

It was the only time Bakugou had allowed Izuku to touch him, because after that he was swept away and into the bunker of the rebellion. Told the devastating truth of this world as he stared at the familiar yet unfamiliar faces of his friends who had seemingly grown up without him.

"How long?" he had asked.

"Sixteen years," Tenya revealed, achingly grave.

He paused, considering the statement and the haunted expression carved onto their face. "And how long since I died?"

Solemn silence descended upon them, no one was willing to give him a proper answer.

"Five years." Bakugou was the one who finally broke the silence. Izuku turned to him and he was met with a brick wall. Eye cold and unflinching, standing in the stark contrast of the concern looks of all those around him. "You were burned on a pyre five years ago."

Izuku winced, but held his ground even with the confirmation of his imminent death in the future. "I see." He attempted a smile. "I guess this mean I have my work cut out for me when I get back to my timeline." Not even letting himself ponder the fact that he might not be able to go back at all.

No, he has to go back to fix this. To prevent the League from winning, prevent his friends and so many innocent lives lost, and to prevent Katsuki from becoming this empty husk of a man, whose grief had long hallowed him out and gutted him dry.

He can't fix the future not yet since he's trapped here, but perhaps he can do something to alleviate Bakugou's pain. He can’t stand to see him continue to silently suffer like this, to carry this sword-like grief within him, the wound slowly rotting and eating away at him like a parasite. More than wanting to go back and save this dark future from coming to pass, he wants desperately to reach out and save this man before him now.

“Would it help if you didn’t have to look at me?” Izuku asks one day when Bakugou is stuck on guard duty with him again, cocking his head curiously at the sullen man sitting across from him.

"How am I going to protect you if I can't see you?" Bakugou grunts. "Your face doesn’t bother me.”  

Izuku frowns. That a lie but he lets it go this time. "The bunker is well guarded.” Having been unconscious when he was brought here, he doesn't know where it's located and how to even get out, but he knows it's underground at least and there's only ever one permanent occupancy. It’s him.

His guardian rotates in and out, but Izuku always remain the same. Here and waiting. For what he doesn't know, but their overprotectiveness is as suffocating as the walls of this bunker. "What are you even afraid of?" That he’ll get hurt? That he’ll die like the Izuku of this timeline?

Bakugou's hand clenches on the table. His shoulders tense and his jaw locks tight. He's quiet for a moment before finally, he says, "Everything." It's just one word but it's devastating.

Izuku's heart clenches. He desperately wants to reach over and hold Bakugou's hand, but there's an impregnable wall between them.

"I'm a hero.” He shakes his head. “I can hold my own. Let me out so I can help you. Please."

Bakugou laughs, his voice quivering like brittle glass. “We don’t need heroes. Those died a long time ago with my Deku. What we need are soldiers, people who would fight because they got everything to lose.”

"And I can fight," he insists heatedly. He'd trained under All Might and UA for this. If there's nothing else he can do, he can fight at least. He can't stand doing nothing especially when every time Katsuki and his friends leave he doesn't know if it'll be the last time he'll see them.

“This isn’t your war,” Bakugou says, low and quiet and steely firm against the brewing tempest behind his only remaining eye. It’s the calm before the storm.

“But it will be in a couple of more years for me, right?" Izuku retorts, standing his ground. "If this is to be my future then I want to be able to fight for it.”

“I'm not going let you get kill on my watch,” he snaps, eye cold and furious, but his right hand pressed against the surface of the table is shaking with the slightest of tremor. “I just can’t. I already lost you once and I refuse to do it again.”

Izuku's eyes round with shock, mouth slipping open but no sounds come out. I'm not him, are the first words he thinks, but he kills it. Squashed it under the fear that he even spoke such words to this man before him, it would break him because Bakugou is barely hanging on a thread as it is.

Grief can even make the strongest of people crumble. This man has been mourning a ghost for five years and he still wears his grief like a looming black shroud over him; it's in his voice, the despair that never leaves and in his face, the barren emptiness of it.

Izuku abruptly stands up, wanting to rush over and drag Bakugou up in his arms like the first time they had met, but Bakugou is powder keg about to explode. A walking snare that would snap at him if he make the wrong move. Agitation bleeds from him, and this is minefield Izuku has to tread carefully.

So instead, he reaches over to Bakugou’s trembling hand on the table and holds it down. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry," he murmurs, desperate and urgent.

Bakugou tries to pushes him off, growling furiously, "Don't fucking touch me!" He’s strong. Undeniably so, but Izuku is persistent and bullheaded. He drags his other hand over and places on top of his own and Bakugou’s. Two hands just to hold Bakugou’s down. Neither use their quirk, but he’s barely able to keep Bakugou from sprinting out of his seat and right out here.

"Please," Izuku begs, and putting as much force as he can to keep Bakugou there in his grip. He drags Bakugou’s hand up on his elbow. "I'm sorry!" His apology less about himself but for all the sorry that Midoriya couldn't say. Bakugou is a man of impressive height and size, grown into this hulking figure, but the fight leaves him the instant their fingers wind together, his two hands clasping around Bakugou’s own between them; it’s a mockery of a prayer, but it’s a plead all the same. "I won’t go anywhere, okay?”

And just like that Bakugou heaves a long sigh, shoulders slumping and eye stare heatedly where their hands are bound together. "Don't do anything stupid," he beseeches softly, his hand still shaking in Izuku’s grip . God, Izuku had caused this. Will cause this. This is and will be his fault. "Just stay quietly where you are and let us find a way to send you back to your own timeline."

Izuku tightens his hold on Katsuki, like he can bear all of Bakugou's weight with this touch alone. "I’ll be good," he vows. Staying quietly by the sideline isn’t in him, but he can try if it help alleviate Bakugou’s fear and anxiety.

Bakugou knocks his head back suddenly and laughs, a bitter and hallow sound with his free hand clutching his forehead. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You already fucking done it once and I won’t be fooled again.”

Izuku opens his mouth to argue, but finds himself unable to do it. A liar and oathbreaker, his future self had made of him and that’s one more crime Izuku has against Midoriya. The first of many to come. He got a big shoe to fill and mistakes to clean up, but first he’ll hold on to this man and make sure he doesn’t fall apart right before Izuku’s eyes. This is the least he can do after Midoriya had already done his best to ruin this man.    

Chapter Text

Katsuki thinks life is one part irony and the other complete horse shit, because never would he thought he'll spend a night out with a baby attached to his hip and two other brats tucked to either side of him as they scream at each other.

"Kouki, you stupid head!" screeches Akira, voice a shrieking siren in the night.

Kouki raises his hand purposely as Katsuki cuts in with a severe command, "No. 2, don't you dare even think about."

"I wasn't going to punch her." Kouki scowls, dropping his fist defensively. "Was just going tap her lightly on the arm."

Katsuki doesn't even bother to roll his eyes as Mizuki babbles nonsensically in his ear. Kouki and Akira’s entire relationship is based around the fact they’re two feral cats chained together, endlessly fighting each other for dominance.

"That's the same thing. Did ya hear that, Kacchan?" Akira complains. "He's being so mean to me," she says as her leg slides over and kicks Kouki instead.

Kouki lets out a pained whine and retaliates with a kick of his own, which soon deteriorates into a kicking battle between them.

Katsuki is caught right in the middle of it—between Akira's screeching storm, hurling vitriol at her twin and Kouki matching her biting word for word with a simmering heat that rise with every second—his headache is ever growing. "Enough," he snaps. "Cut it out already you two!"

They reluctantly pull apart, glaring at each other before both mouths open to argue.

"She started it—" Kouki says, sneering at his sister.

"He started it—" Akira says, snapping her teeth at him.

And Katsuki sighs. "Don't grow up to be like them," he tells Mizuki, who claps in respond. "Good, I knew you're my favorite for a reason." She raises her tiny fist in delight, squealing with each swing. Katsuki tucks a smile between his lips at the sight of it.

"We're back!" a familiar voice calls out to them and they all turn to look at three figures heading toward them.

This year, the numbers decided through a series of heated negotiations that had ended with more than broken table and someone in tears, they were going to do a group Halloween costume—the power rangers. Then it was fighting over who get what color as though it’s the only language they ever know how to speak to each other not like Katsuki hasn’t seen them pile on a bed together when one of them have a nightmare.

If this is what it likes to have siblings, thank fucking god, his parents were wise enough to produce only one of him.

A pink ranger runs up to them excitedly, his helmet clipped to his waist like the rest of his siblings, and just right behind him is a slow walking red ranger and Izuku. Hikaru settling for pink when there was no purple ranger costume for him had Katsuki worried initially because kids can be a little shithead and Hikaru is a little too tenderhearted compare to the rest of his siblings, but his worry was for naught. Hikaru may be quiet and sweet but he’s not meek. He’s steadfast in his decision and unfazed by others comment especially with Yuko protectively hovering over him.

Akira, in her black ranger suit, steps up to receive Hikaru in her arms. "Where did you go?! I miss you guys so much!" she says, holding him close to her chest. 

Kouki, the always moody blue ranger of the gropu, only roll his eyes and moves forward to greet Yuko and Izuku.He immediately latches onto Izuku as soon as they arrive. "Papa," he says, clinging to Izuku's leg before turning to the red suited figure next to him. "Yuko-neechan, did you bring anything for us?"

"Yea, anything good?" Akira pipes up between ruffling Hikaru's hair profusely.

"We just finished acquiring our sweets," Yuko says in that dry monotone voice of her that makes her sounds like she's thirty, all perfectly placed vowels and consonants, but the soft smile that graces her face show her youth clearly for all to see. “It was a productive effort on our parts.”

"Candies!" Hikaru declares victoriously, holding his trophy of war proudly up. "Lots of it."

With that announcement, chaos descends upon the group as the brats ransacked each other candies bag like shark scenting blood in the water; it's a feeding frenzy.

Katsuki steps back with Mizuki still on his hip as Izuku slots into place right next to him with a smile on his face. "So how are you doing?" Izuku asks, eyes bright and teasing.

"I hate it here," Katsuki grumbles. "I'll trade you my brats for yours. No. 2 and 3 are testing what little patience I have left."

Izuku smile widens. "And Mizuki isn't?"

Mizuki blows a raspberry at the sound of her name, giggling softly.

"No. 5 can't talk yet so that automatically makes her my favorite right now," Katsuki says, poking at Mizuki's cheek. "Keep at it and I might just leave my entire will to you one day."

Hikaru pokes his head out of the group to frown at him. "I thought I was your favorite."

“You been demoted, no. 4.” Katsuki raises a brow. "After you chose to go with Deku and left me alone with your other deplorable siblings all night."

Hikaru press his lips together unhappily. "But I wanted the candies."

"Ah, betrayed because of candies," Katsuki says severely. "I see how it is now."

Hikaru makes a wounded noise and opens his mouth to protest but someone shoves a piece of candy in his mouth to stop him. "Shut up and take some before Akira's fat head eat all of it and Yuko-neechan hog the best ones and leave us with nothing," Kouki scolds.

"That wouldn't be proper, but as the eldest I have first dibs," Yuko argues, already grabbing a handful of candies for herself.

"Lies," Akira screeches, and chaos descends upon them once more as they fight for the best piece of candies.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, while Izuku doesn’t even bother to hide his laughter right next to him. They’re annoying and loud, a constant theme in his life now since the day Izuku and the numbers landed in his lap, but somehow he doesn’t hate it.

Chapter Text

Bakugou Katsuki—the Earl of Aldera, heir to the ducal of Musutafu and a highly decorated war hero thrice over—has yet to meet a battlefield he hasn’t dare step a foot on. He'd willingly walked into two wars and came out of them with his limbs and head still attached. They'd called him mad for it, to seek the thrill of the battlefield like it’s in his lifeblood, but he knows without a doubt that the maddest of them all isn't him.

It took his mother forcibly dragging him away from the battlefront that he loves and recognized, stripping him of his military uniform for a tailored suit of gentry, for him to once again reunite with Izuku, the bane of his existence, the husband he had left behind so he can march into war to fight on foreign soils.

Katsuki remembers the wide eyed young man shackled to him at sixteen, standing before him in earnest hope, but all of it was crushed under his foot so Katsuki can chase a taste freedom from the confinement of his title and marriage. That same young man had all grown up now, armed with wits and an infuriating a low hanging neckline, and daring to challenge Katsuki step by step. He had seen so many horrific and ugly things in war, had even taken part with it, and been close to his last breath several times over but not once had he felt anxious, outclass and alarm as he does now in the face of the most terrifying adversary he'd ever met in the form of his husband.

Like many nights before this, Izuku had somehow managed to bully his way into Katsuki’s sleeping quarter like a fucking siren that Katsuki can’t beat back. He’d stared up at Katsuki with blatant defiant, insisting that they should sleep on the same bed a married couple should.

He had subordinates less brazen than this. And he was corralling a bunch of brain dead alphas into some semblance of coherency so for war. No person under his household, let alone his command would ever be this audacious to barge into his bedroom and commandeer his bed like this but Izuku is a monument to provocation, so insolent and shameless that he has the entire world fool.

Izuku had managed to cultivate an image of demure sweetness and propriety to the public and Katsuki’s parents, but Katsuki is not blind or an idiot. He has seen alphas in rut with less gall than Izuku storming his way into Katsuki’s household, his bedroom, and life like there’s a place carved out just for him. And those alphas have to wave their massive knot around just to make a point, but all Izuku has to do is blink those huge, green eyes of his and curve his lips upward into a smile and everybody is suddenly eating out of his palms like starving strays looking for a good meal.

Katsuki thinks of the long dragged out wars he was in and how it would have easily been resolved if Izuku was there, batting those eyes of his. Empires of the past had risen and fall on the whims of an omega, and Katsuki has no doubt that his husband is his own Delilah; his inevitable downfall made real.

Fuck.

Somehow in the middle of the night, Izuku’s inability to keep still had not only kicked their blanket off the bed but also undone the sash that tied his yukata together, leaving Katsuki to wake up with Izuku all tangled up in his arms and his fucking bare shoulder exposed completely to the air and for Katsuki’s eyes to see.

Unintentionally, it revealed long expanse of pale, unblemished skin like some untouched forbidden territory that Katsuki isn’t privy to. It’s fucking obscene is what it is, making Katsuki feels like an interloper in his own bed; a fucking pervert for eyeing his own husband like that. Katsuki met prostitutes, a goddamn yotaka even, whose job required them to sauntered up and down the streets with swaying hips at night to entice any straying eyes and hands, have more dignity than Izuku sleeping with his collarbones exposed like-like this.

It's simply indecent!

A flush of heat rise to his cheeks as Izuku stirs, hot breath ghosting Katsuki's skin and a bare leg haphazardly and dangerously thrown over the lower half of his body. Izuku's arms has him trapped him in a vice-like grip. He feels much like an animal waiting for his own demise.

The moment he'd opened his door and saw Izuku standing there with an expectant look on his face, Katsuki should have shut the door on him, lock it and throw away the key but he'd hesitated only for a second, and in that moment Izuku had seized his chance and pushed his way in because Katsuki is a fucking idiot.

Now, he lies awake haunted by dreams of dead men and deader ghosts from bygone battlefields and then there's Izuku attached to him like a particular annoying barnacle, making him deeply wish he could have gone back to sleep and let his nightmares suffocate him instead. Katsuki had slept under worst conditions: in muddy grounds, on violent stormy sea, and in close quarter with thirty sweaty, dirty men who haven’t bathe in a month. War is unforgiving, relentless. It owes you no kindness, grace, and certainly no comfort and he'd endured it all. It didn't fucking break him then, but now with Izuku pressed close to him like he could burrow his way into Katsuki's chest, and their skin on skin with only a flimsy barrier of Izuku's yukata between them, Katsuki's brain stutters out, leaving him helpless against the onslaught.

He regrets everything that had led up to this point. Fuck his parents for arranging his marriage without his consent, fuck Izuku for having all the balls in this relationship that it leaves Katsuki neutered, and most of all fuck himself for opening that damn door in the first place.

It's too hot.

He's sweaty. Scorching. Everytime Izuku move and an arm or leg brush against him, a spark of fire runs through him. In him. Around him. Till he feels like he's going to be burn alive. All that heat goes to his head, dislodging his brain or something because what the fuck. It's the only explanation why, in a moment of brief madness, he decides to reach out to tug at the collar of Izuku's robe upward because he has to save whatever is left of his sanity but before he can complete his arduous task Izuku's eyes flutter open in the disturbance.

Izuku scrunches up his face in confusion as he stares at him then his eyes drop to where Katsuki's hand is on his robe. "K-Kacchan? W-what are you—" Mortified, Katsuki shoves himself away, scrambling back and back and over the edge of the bed that he falls over in a loud thump.

Izuku's horrified scream follows him down to the floor. "My Lord?!"

Pain hits him right away, but it's all just background noise in the face of Izuku's frantic and very much awake now voice: “Are you okay?" he asks. A tousled head peer over the edge of the bed now and gazes down at Katsuki with obvious concern.

In the dim light of Katsuki’s chamber, where a single candle still burns, Izuku’s eyes—those damnable huge, bewitching eyes of his—descend upon him, all warm and considerate, void of it sharp edges. In the daylight hours, Izuku always appeared so prim and proper, so well put together in his armor of silk and robes that nothing can disturb him, not even Katsuki, but right now under the light of Katsuki’s bedroom he looks so soft and relax, stripped bare of all pretense. Like he’s something malleable to the touch, something that Katsuki could reach out and drag down and Izuku would easily go with him, tumbling to the floor in a beautiful mess just for him.

Fuck. Fuck.

Enlisting in two wars wasn't able to cut him down, fighting pirates in the East Sea hadn’t undo him, and getting a bullet lodged in chest couldn't even kill him but this—whatever this is had done it. Izuku had done it. "No," Katsuki says finally, tired and utterly defeated with a hand over his eyes. "I am not fucking okay at all."

Chapter Text

Izuku strides into the Furie’s office with purposeful steps, anger rippling in his wake. His sudden intrusion in the private office of the highest ranking person in Kurenai has all three of the Furie’s attendants drop down to their knees. 

Shocked stole their words away for a moment before their training quickly kicked in and they lower their head to the floor in greeting. “Your servant greets His Majesty, the Flames of Kurenai, He Who Lights the Way,” they say in unison. “Oh, Fyre, we serve at your feet.” 

Izuku doesn’t wince, but it’s a near thing. No matter how many times the people of Kurenai show their absolute reverence to him, it still unnerved him. Especially when he knows those are shallow words. Their loyalty are to their own, to their one and only king, the Furie of Kurenai, Izuku’s lord and husband. 

“I wish to talk to the Furie,” Izuku announces with a flourish to the room. His words are authoritative and leave no room argument. It almost doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel like him at all. He isn’t this sort of person who throws his weight around and expect servants to scramble and answer it, but this place isn’t his home and he can’t show any chip his armor or they’ll eat him alive. “Alone,” he tacks on in case they didn’t get the hint yet. 

Katsuki’s Head Attendant, Horu, looks up and meets Izuku’s steely determination. It’s just a brief second, but it’s enough for whatever he had wanted to see before he drops his gaze once more. 

“If you would excuse us then, Your Majesty and Your Holiness,” Horu says, standing up as the rest of the attendants follow action. “We would be right outside if you need us.” They retreat from the room with no further word. 

Izuku, then, turns his full attention to the only other occupants in the room. 

Katsuki hasn’t look up from his mountain of paperwork on his desk since Izuku had walked into his room and demanded his attention. “What,” he grunts out, distracted.   

Izuku narrow his eyes at the bowed head over the desk. “Captain Kirishima had kindly just informed me you canceled my trip to Shorlene,” he says. He doesn’t raise his voice, but the sharpness of his tone gives away his anger and resentment that had trailed him through the halls of the castle. 

“Yes,” Katsuki answers, and nothing more than that. Hands diligently and carefully filling lines and lines of words on the paper in front of him. 

Izuku huffs, annoyance already digging its nail into him. “Care to explain why?” 

“No.” 

Izuku’s patience breaks. He walks up toward the large wooden desk that and slams both hands down on it. It rustles the pages and inkpot on the desk, but Katsuki remains silence. 

“I have been here for over three months and have yet to step out of this palace. You can’t keep me trapped here forever!” Izuku insists hotly. 

Finally, Katsuki lifts his gaze from his paperwork. Those unflinching red eyes meet his and Izuku has a hard time holding his gaze without balking. Red, the color of heretics in Izuku’s homeland for being so closely associated with demons, yet here in Kurenai it’s celebrated and is considered holy but Izuku can’t shake the eeriness of it. 

“I can and I will.” Katsuki stops for a moment. “Besides, it’s not safe,” he rebukes. “Just four days ago someone had tried to poison you. I will not risk your life because you are simply bored. Find something else to entertain yourself with in your spare time, but you not leave the castle.”  

Shame stains Izuku’s cheeks immediately. “Do not treat me like a child!” he shouts. All his defenses are in shattered because of Katsuki’s piercing words. 

“Then stop acting like one,” Katsuki retorts, his tone as dry as the grand desert he rules over. 

Izuku takes a step back, catching his breath even as the heat of embarrassment still simmers in his guts. Katsuki always know where to aim for it to hurt the most. His words are as cutting and sharp as the sword he carries in battle. 

“Tell me, my lord, did you bring me across an entire ocean and dropped me onto this foreign land to be your husband or your enemy?" Izuku asks with a calmness that doesn't match the erratic beat of his heart. "Because I cannot be both."

The silence that follows sting like a slap to the cheek. 

Izuku and Katsuki had not married each other for love, but Izuku had naively assumed if he couldn’t have Katsuki’s heart then at least his friendship then; he had neither. 

Ah, how terribly foolish of him. So, so stupid. Why did he ever think he could even have that at all? 

Izuku doesn’t touch his chest, but the newly made cracks are there and it will only cut deeper the longer he let Katsuki point his sword at him.   

“Until you have an answer, you will find me in the eastern wing,” Izuku declares abruptly, pin pricking at the corner of his eyes.  

He won’t cry. He won’t be unmade here because of Katsuki. 

Izuku coolly walks out of the room, turning his back to Katsuki even as he can feel the heat of Katsuki’s gaze on him. His steps don’t falter as he pushes the door open and doesn’t betray the quivering of his heartbeat. 

He steps through and several pairs of eyes from his attendants to Katsuki’s finds his, hurriedly dropping their gaze to floor. “Your Majesty” they greet him once more. 

Channeling his mother, the revered Queen of Llamor, Izuku says evenly to his Head Attendant, “Kori, move my personal trunks from His Majesty’s chamber to the Lotus Pavilion.” 

Her head jerks up and eyes widen. “My Fyre?” 

“His Holiness wish to spend some time to himself and I will adhere to his command,” Izuku says, carefully choosing his words as though he’s picking the ripest fruits from a tree.

It won’t be long before words get out of their fight and the entire palace will explode in gossip and whispers of how the two them refuse to get along once more. The fault never lies on their Furie, it’s always the outsider, their unwanted Fyre who had stepped onto their land with nothing to his name except he was to be hostage that guarantee their peace. Marriage was just a flimsy excuse, and they all knew it.  

He is their unwanted Fyre, but Izuku won’t show them any weakness that they can pry him apart. 

“Bend if you must, but do not break, Izuku.”  His mother’s last advice to him before he left for Kurenai. “You are the son of a king; a prince among men. Do not forget who you are. Nobody can take that away from you.”  

Chapter Text

As the sun starts to set, the procession stops at an inn just outside of Shinwei for the night.  Earlier, Captain Kirishima had went ahead of them and cleared out any other guests staying at the inn. He had the proprietors closed it down to only to members of the procession and had set up a secured perimeter around the area. While the inn is not small by any means, housing twenty rooms that span across three floors, it still couldn’t fit the entire procession of the Furie’s entourage so most of the Kurenai’s Royal Guards were forced to camp outside.

That leaves a few highly trained guards, a slew of servants, and then there is Izuku and the Furie himself. Every one of them bleeds for Kurenai, but Izuku is the only full-blooded Ashein among them. He has been the only Ashein on this leg of the trip since the moment he had stepped off the ship and on to this brutal and unforgiving continent.

The night before they had landed on Kurenai, his nursemaid Phima had begged, “You must survive, my prince, and come back to us one day.”

Choked up with tears and longing, Izuku couldn’t offer any consoling words to her then, except for a simple nod and a forceful hug, but they both already knew then that he would never step a foot back on his homeland. This will be the last time they’ll ever see each other again.

Even if his future lies in Kurenai now, his heart will be forever with his mother and father and siblings in evergreen Ashein. They may place the crown of Kurenai on him and its soil beneath him, but he will live as an Ashein until his body is finally lay to rest.

Phima and the rest of Izuku’s escorts had traveled with him across the Seven Seas but as soon as they had anchored on the shore of one of Kurenai’s biggest ports, they had dropped Izuku off with the Captain of the Royal Guards, Kirishima Eijirou. They’d soon departed back to Ashein after that, carrying with them the message to Izuku’s father that they had delivered their prince safely to the home fortress of their enemies.

They left Izuku with nothing but several trunks full of his personal belonging and hope in his chest that he alone can change the resentment in these people’s heart and sway the Furie’s affection toward him. Izuku is truly alone now. Alone in a foreign land, among his former enemies, and steeped in a culture and language so different from his own. It’s a heavy burden to carry.

He cannot show any sign of weakness. Peace is no absolute guarantee for complicity. Their hard won peace is flimsy at best and held together by the thin thread of marriage. Izuku must not forget it.

Dinner that night is a quiet affair for them. Upon Izuku’s request, they eat out in the inn's foyer. All the tables are occupied, but the only one eating is Izuku and the Furie. He tries not to let it unnerved him, but Royal Guards and several servants are seated among the other tables and though there are low conversations stirring, it’s mostly just Izuku and the Furie who takes center stage once more.

The food is spicy and colorful. The flavor swings from one extreme to another. Too salty, too sweet, and a little too much, kind of like the Kurenai themselves; a place of extreme—extreme landscapes, extreme weathers, and extreme people. This is after all the country where they once said the royal lines flow the blood of ancient dragons.

Whether or not that’s true, Izuku will find out soon enough.

He quietly eats his dinner even though they took a while to get used to, especially when nearly everything on the table is unrecognizable to him. The Furie sat across from him and dutifully eats his meal in silence as though it was an everyday occurrence to him to dine with his future husband and Izuku does his best to imitate his cool indifference. But it’s not easy when the head of a fish sank in a spicy curry throws Izuku’s off for a second and he’s so distracted by its large lifeless eyes staring back at him that he doesn’t notice someone is approaching him from behind.

Arms shoot out, a yell rang in the air, a scramble of bodies and the next thing Izuku knows a bowl of boiling liquid lands right in Izuku’s lap. It spills over his thigh, soaking through the fabric of his robes and it even got his right arm and all the way down to his hand.

Izuku screams, the scalding hot liquid burns at exposed his skin and his right side hurt so badly like a thousand stinging nettles. 

He hears a vitriol of Kure thrown at him and he turns around with shaky legs to see a young girl struggling against a guard’s hold, face twisted with pure hatred as she glares at him. It was the same serving girl from the inn who’d brought food to them earlier, she had even offered him reassuring a smile at his confusion of some of dishes arriving at his table.

Now she looks upon with so much revulsion that Izuku could feel it emanating from her. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows whatever words she’s saying is not kind.

“Your Highness!” one of his attendants shouts in horror, rising up in from his seat at a nearby table. He and several others rush over to Izuku to tend to his injuries. “Are you alright?!”

They spoke over each other in a flurry of Kure that Izuku can barely catch, dropping A’she from their tongue completely. Someone places a cold towel over his hand to cool the burnt and another wipes off the soup residue on the skirt of his robe. Many hands carefully tend to him, but Izuku doesn’t even pay any attention to it.

His eyes and ears are train on his soon to be husband as Katsuki yells something over the girl’s cry and more guards quickly rise up. They rush over to her and grab her by the arm, pushing her to the floor in a loud thump

“I’m fine,” Izuku insists, distractedly as two of the guards unsheathed their sword on her. “I’m fine,” he says louder, brushing his attendants’ intrusive hands off of him.

The attendants look at each other and then quickly back away from him. Izuku sighs in relief even as his right side still sting and his body hurts all over, but he can’t drop his guard here. No weakness. No chinks in his armor.

He squares his shoulder and holds his head high as he walks around the table and approaches the Furie, whose scowl has deepens.

“Your Holiness,” he says, drawing Katsuki’s attention to him.

Though he offers no comforting words, Katsuki looks back at him, eyes scrutinizing every inch of his body. He zeroes in immediately on the way Izuku held his right arm, at an awkward angle and the redness that had risen on his hand.

With his uninjured left hand, he reaches out toward Katsuki. “What was she saying earlier to me? It was too fast for me to pick up,” Izuku mumbles, tugging on his sleeve. “I want to know. Please.”

Katsuki hesitates for a moment, so brief that if Izuku wasn’t watching him closely he wouldn’t have caught it right away. “Give me back my family,” he translates, voice even and distant, “you murderer.’”

Izuku shuts his eyes for a second, heart quivering in place.

There is no such thing as a bloodless war.  How could Izuku forget that just because his side had lost so many people, it didn’t mean the Kurenai hasn’t lost as much as them. “That was not all she said,” Izuku states, his hands trembling at his side. “Tell me everything. Do not shelter me from the truth.”

Katsuki’s eyes simmer against the lights of the inn.  “The only good Ashein is a dead one,” he tells Izuku coolly. “We won’t accept an Ashein cur on our throne. Nobody wants you here, go back to your homeland or we’ll ship you back in a box. ”

Izuku’s breath hitches. Her hate is palpable. He didn’t need have the words translated to know, but Izuku has always been a masochist anyway. “I see,” he breathes, “but you can let her go now as I’m quite fine now.”

“It’s treasonous,” Katsuki says with narrowed eyes, “you are to be my Fyre and I will not have some idle threats looming over our marriage.” He turns toward his guards and throws a few Kure words out toward them. Most of them are unfamiliar to him, but Izuku’s ears managed pick up the word jail and he steps forward once more.

“Wait, let her go, Your Holiness,” Izuku pleads. “I do not want her to be hurt or locked away.” 

“Just because you show her a drop of kindness doesn’t mean she’ll forgive you for being an Ashein,” Katsuki points out ruthlessly, neither mincing words or gentle with Izuku.

Izuku holds back a wince. “I do not need her forgiveness,” he insists, standing his ground. “She’s still young, and that’s enough.”

“That shouldn’t excuse her behavior,” Katsuki says sharply, red eyes pinning Izuku like he’s butterfly caught under him. “She could jeopardize the entire treaty if anything were to happen to you.”

“Don’t worry, Your Holiness,” Izuku says, voice rising with a confidence that he doesn’t quite feel. “I will not be so easily killed.” 

Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance, but he shakes his head ruefully and sighs. “Fine,” he barks, and sends a quick order in Kure to release the girl.

As soon as they let her go, she scrambles away from them and eyes still drawn daggers at Izuku even though it was Izuku who had set her free. “Ashein’s dog,” she spits out in clumsy A’she at him. “Won’t forget this.”

Izuku bites down on lips as he watches her storm out. He doesn’t regret his action, but it hurts anyway. Hurt in a different way than the physical pain she had inflicted on him. The peace may have been needed on both sides, but Izuku is not what the Kurenai wanted at all. He is an extra stipulation that they have to endure. The price they pay for amity.

A hand abruptly grabs him and pulls him toward a hard chest. Izuku’s eyes widen in surprise as he meets the fierce gaze of his future husband, his hands forcibly wrapped around Izuku’s injured one.

“You fool,” Katsuki hisses venomously, his words are callous but the grip that held Izuku’s right hand is ever gentle. His fingers run over Izuku’s sensitive skin in measured slowness as though soothing away the heat simmering under it.  “You absolute stupid fool! This will come back and bite you in the ass later.”

“But you will be there with me, won’t you, Your Holiness?” Izuku says, a smile tugging softly at the corner of his lips.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow and he doesn’t offer an answer to Izuku’s question, but it isn’t a rebuke either.

Izuku’s smile widens. It’s his first smile since he had arrived on this foreign land and with a feverish hope in his heart, this might not last smile either. 

Right now, Izuku is an outsider in their midst but he’s to be wed to their Furie come the next full moon.  Even if they never accept or come to love him, but for the peace that so many people had died for, Izuku won’t back down. He must survive and maybe, just maybe, he could also win the heart of this unforgiving man.

Chapter Text

Izuku came to Kurenai on the foothill of winter. He got married in a deep crimson futeme that cling to his body like shackles as winter blanketed the entire grounds, leaving it barren and void of life and his presence a single red mar on the lands; it had mirrored the landscape of his heart. 

He’d spent the next two months barely surviving through Kurenai’s vicious winter and only going outside when he was decked out in three layers of outer robes much to his attendants’ chagrin, who were all cold-blooded demons and doesn’t . He didn’t care how outrageous he’d looked, overstuffed and waddling around in his overcoats, because he wasn’t going to freeze to death just to prove a point. 

So it took him by surprise when winter disperses like it had just arrived, quick and like a kick in the face, and spring cuts in with a sweltering heatwave that reminds him more of his homeland’s most fiery of summers than any kind of spring. 

It makes Izuku want to peel back layer of his own skin just to maintain any kind of peace of mind, but Izuku is Izuku and he wears his winter robes wherever he go. Sleeve stretches all the way to his wrist, his entire legs drown in a pool of skirt, and a high collar that hugs his throat a little too tight—they’re heat traps, he knows, but Izuku insisted on wearing them despite vocal protests from his attendants once more. 

It’s the height of stupidity, he admits, to go against nature and challenge the blistering sun with nothing but his sheer will. Izuku thinks he got nothing to lose. 

He’s so, so wrong. 

There’s a short lunch outings planned with several provincial lords that the Furie and Fyre have to entertain. The chamberlain had arranged for them to eat outside by the water lilies, which offers a gorgeous view and an additive tranquility that none of the volatile lords feel about each other in this peace talk disguises as conversational piece. 

Izuku is only there as decoration. The only one these lords fighting for is the favor of Izuku’s husband. So, Izuku sits quietly and enjoy his meal. Or, at least he had intended to, but the sun is hovering right above him and Izuku feels like he’s being cooked alive. 

His chest binding is suddenly too tight, the high collar of his robe cuts off his airway, and his vision blurs. He’s dizzy and sick to his stomach and he realizes at that moment that maybe he shouldn’t have chosen to double down on his outer robe this morning. One layer was enough in this heat, two is stupid, but three is testing the gods’ fortune. 

Izuku falls backward to frantic screams and everything abruptly goes black. 

The next time he wakes up it is to Katsuki’s face glowering down at him. “You absolutely fucking idiot,” he scolds, face twisted in derision.  “A heatstroke, seriously?! Only ignorant children and the elderly get heatstroke anymore! Are you trying my patience on purpose, because why do you continue punish yourself by wearing these thick layers of futeme?!” 

Izuku blinks and blinks some more before rolling over in his bed. “Please stop talking,” he insists, throwing the cover over his head until all he sees is darkness once more. His body is startlingly warm, but it’s neither from the heat earlier or the blanket covering him. It’s the humiliation of everyone seeing him collapsing in front of them and that raises the temperature by several hundred degrees. “I’m fully aware how disgraceful I was,” he murmurs, the words are barely muffled by the fabric of the blanket. “And I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time so I won’t embarrass you, my lord. So please leave me alone for now.” 

Silence reigns between them.

Izuku squeezes his eyes and hopes that’s a sign that Katsuki had left. But. 

“I will not have you hide away like a disgusting coward,” he hears Kasuki’s voice spit out before the blanket is ripped from him.  

Izuku is so shocked by that action that he doesn’t even brace himself. The dry air hits his bare arms and legs and there’s nowhere else to hide. Just him and his underthings. Immediately he slides his knees up against his chest and wraps his arms around it as though that can hide his disfigurements.  

There are scars ribboning around his body like etchings on a tree. None of them were earned with honor, but a casualty of war. Izuku had spent over two years as a hostage in the enemy’s encampment and though they don’t hate him specifically, they had hated what he’d stood for and they didn’t show him a drop of mercy. 

Back then, he had lived everyday wishing for death to come sooner to end his misery. A single breath had took a herculean amount of effort from him. Alone in his cell and with his back against a slab of concrete Izuku dreamt of a future without these heavy shackles.  

Izuku had come out of that ordeal shaken, traumatized, and carried with him an aversion to touch from strangers ever since. Consequently, his body is riddled with scars that would never properly heal; they run up his arms and legs and snaked around his torso like a hundred pinkish whip like vines.

Even he can’t bear to stare at them long, let alone let anyone see them.

Katsuki is fully aware of Izuku’s scars but he doesn’t know how deeply rooted they are, the extent of injury that twisted itself around his heart. It’s ugly. As ugly as himself now.  

“Wha—“ A hand shoots out and grabs him by his right elbow , dragging him forward and pushes him right up in front of Katsuki’s face.

“Not all battles are fought on the field,” he says, starring intensely down at the pink raised flesh wrapping around Izuku’s arm. “This is the proof that you’d survived it. That you overcame it and are here with me now, so wear it with pride.”

Izuku drops his gaze, heart rattling against his ribcage. “You make it sounds so easy,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t try to fight off Katsuki’s grip on him.

“Isn’t it?” Katsuki says, voice quiet and severed. “Say the words and I’ll rip off the heads of anyone who say anything about your scars. You’re mine and I’ll protect what is mine.”

Izuku jerks his head up, eyes widening. Katsuki’s face is caught between annoyance and exasperation, but it doesn’t tell him if Katsuki had meant it or not.

“Even if the enemy is myself?” Izuku asks hopeful and yearning as Katsuki’s hand slides from Izuku’s elbow to grasp at his hand in a tight squeeze.

“Yea,” Katsuki agrees, the corner of his lips give an unwilling tug, “even if I have to kick your ass just to keep you.”

Chapter Text

“Your Holiness, please!” Eine begs, panic seeping into her speech as her voice picks up volume with each word that leaves her. “His Highness is busy right now and asked us to not let anyone disturb him.  Please forgive us, but we can’t let you enter.”  

“Yea, but I’m not just anyone am I?” Katsuki demands, and the sharpness of his words are unforgiving. He won’t be move.

Izuku winces. He had asked too much of his attendants and now they’re in a bind because of him. “Eine,” he says, raising his voice to carry beyond the four walls of his chamber, “you can let him in.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ein quickly answers, the relief coming from her is nearly tangible.

Izuku closes his book and places on the table as his doors slam open and his husband strolls in like the harbinger of a storm.  Finding, Izuku immediately at the table with his books scattered about. “How long do you intend to hide here?” Katsuki asks, voice hard as he strolls in to the room with firm steps. “You refuse to see anyone and won’t even leave your palace since you arrived here that I had annoying people coming up to me and asked if I had married a ghost instead.”

“They dislike me, your people,” Izuku informs him calmly, even though dislike is too light of a word to properly describe the open derision and hostility that was shown to him. Under the table, his hands clench tightly on his lap. “The war may have ended already but their hate and anger remains, and as the sole Ashein prince in your land, I’m a reminder of their worst nightmares come true. If that’s how it’ll be then I rather not show my face in public then and further fuel their animosity toward me.”

Uncomfortable and ugly as it is, Izuku understands it. He wouldn’t easily embrace the face of his enemy in his own home and Izuku is not just another face they have to put up with, he’s the consort to their beloved Furie.

Shaking his head ruefully, Katsuki counters, “They do not know you yet.“ He huffs, brows pinching in annoyance. "Your constant pessimism is truly tiresome.”  

“And when they do?” Izuku asks with steel in his voice even as his spine doesn’t feel like it can carry him through the trials ahead. “What if they don’t like what they see?”

“Then change their mind,” Katsuki answers, eyes narrowed in contempt. “Win them over if you must, but remember their opinions don’t matter. Only mine does and I chose you.”

Izuku’s eyes flashes for a moment before he deflates , resignation setting in. “How can I not care when I am to live here for the rest of my life! They may smile at me and offer me praise, but I know behind those pretty words are just lies and daggers,” he says, dropping his gaze to his lap as the truth of his own words cut at him. “I can only bear so much.”

“I did not know I have married a goddamn coward for a consort,” Katsuki comments dryly, and the note of challenge in his voice is made clear. “Where is the man who had held a dagger to my throat on our nuptial night and promised to cut my balls off if I touch you without your permission?”

Izuku bristles even as his face flames up and he turns toward Katsuki.  “T-That’s different,” he insists, the memory of his foolish act still haunts him. To think he could threaten the ruler of another country while he’s far away from home is such a joke. Katsuki had easily disarmed him and his cocky smirk was enough to keep Izuku from making any more attempts at Katsuki’s life. 

“I may be their Furie, but I’m also your husband,” Katsuki says evenly but heavy with meanings. “I will stand by you even if the entire world is against you, so come.” He holds his hand out to Izuku. The message is clear.

Izuku stares at the outstretched hand. A shaky exhale leaves him and, finally, finally he takes it with a lighten heart.

Katsuki doesn’t smile, but the way he holds Izuku’s hand is firm and warm. It squeezes as his fingers tangle with Izuku and that’s enough to quell the doubts and fears in heart.

It’s not fair. Not fair at all, Izuku thinks hopelessly.

Izuku’s husband is neither gentle or sweet, but in his ornery and curt way Katsuki is ever so kind to him and that’s what kills him in the end. Kindness is its own form of cruelty. Izuku doesn’t want Katsuki to be kind to him if he won’t ever come to love him.

Please do not be so kind to me or I’ll may mistake it for something else.

Chapter Text

To the people of Kurenai, the Furie is the lifeblood of the empire. Endowed by the Three Sisters, generations and generations of Bakugous have bled and died for Kurenai, bringing honor and prestige to their land with every successive new ruler. For that, all of Kurenai willingly bent at their knees because there is no one greater, no one higher, than their Furie. Master of Men, Kings of Kings, he is their god made flesh. 

Yet. 

Yet in front of the one who is his husband the Furie is but a young man, stripped of his divinity and mantle of a ruler. Awkward and unyielding in his courtship, his clumsy attempts to breach the fortress surrounding the consort’s heart is met with icy resistance and failures. 

Even in the matter of love and relationship, gods and kings are not infallible. 

It’s humbling. And terribly adorable. 

“Foolish child,” Lady Keema spits out, “I’ll be dead and my corpse burning at the pyre before I see another new Bakugou in the next ten years.” She slaps her thigh in annoyance. “He could raised an army of thousands with a just a word and have us all die for him without lifting a single finger, yet he can’t even hold the Fyre’s hand. Pathetic.” She glowers. 

Husei could only cringe. As the nursemaid who had raised the Furie since he was a babe and who even nursed the previous Furie before him, Lady Keema may bent her old knees for him, but she will never mince her words because the Furie may be their god-king but to her he will always be the child who’d clinged to her bosom.

“Milady, please, His Holiness is trying his best,” Husei says loyally. “It only been many moons since they’re married. This is still a new territory for them so forgive them for going so slowly.” 

Her eyes flash toward him with pointed derision. “Love isn’t a mission or a war that he can win through brute force alone. I expect better from him, so If he can’t do this himself than I will step in myself,” she says, firm and resolute. “I had a hand in matchmaking his parents before him and this will be no difference.” 

Husei’s eyes widen and he nearly stumbles forward in shock. “But-but, His Holiness–he won’t like this.” At all. His mind fumbles at the idea that the Furie is going to roll several heads when he find out everyone’s attempt at interfering with his love life. 

“Good,” Lady Keema huffs, “that will teach him.” 

Chapter Text

“Do you think His Holiness had forgotten about us by now?” Tanel asks, brows furrowing in concern. “It has been over a week since he had last called upon the Fyre.” He bites down on his lower lip worriedly. “The Furie can’t keep ignoring His Majesty, right? Maybe the Fyre shouldn’t have to pick a fight with the Furie in the first place if he knows he can’t win. Nobody can out stubborn His Holiness.” 

Ein frowns at him. “I see your mouth moving but I don’t see any work being done,” she snaps. “This room won’t clean itself.” 

Tanel huffs. “There’s only two of us here, not counting on His Majesty, how are we supposed to clean this debilitating manor all by ourself anyway? Couldn’t His Majesty pick somewhere better to sulk in?” 

Ein’s left eye twitch. “You brat--!” she starts, reaching toward Tanel but he quickly dodges her grabby hands and makes a dash for the door. 

“Yea, okay, I’m going to clean now. In the other room, preferably,” he declares over his shoulder with a wave as he disappears completely beyond the entertaining chamber. 

“Boys,” she mutters under breath in an aggrieved sigh. For a moment she does not let herself think of the other young man trapped within this manor, but at least his impose exile isn’t a punishment. Refusing to go back to Imperial Quarters or his own palace after his fight with the Furie, the Fyre had set up their new home in an abandoned manor just outside of the Inner Core of Lavaein.

It’s not the first time a consort of a Furie have left the Inner Core to live outside, but it was never at their own volition. It’s either from them having fallen out of favor or a rebuke of their misdeed, but their new Fyre had walked out on the Furie and had not looked back since.

Even a simple marital spat between spouses is elevated to new heights when it’s their Fyre and Furie, the god-king and his consort. 

The Furie’s rules are absolute and he rules absolutely; he won’t bend, not to his subjects, not his friends or family, not to even the gods themselves, and certainly he won’t be cowed by his own husband either. The Fyre’s rebellion is written off as a childish tantrum by many and the whispers in the Inner Core all say the same thing, “it’s hopeless, the Furie won’t be moved.”

This isn’t a battle that the Fyre can hope to win out of sheer will, but even as the day turns into another night and still no words from the Furie, His Majesty remains staunch in his self-impose exile. Ein knows the new Fyre is quiet and unassuming upon first glance, but hidden behind that brittle smile is iron steel that can bear the full weight of their empire if only they let him.  

By the eleventh day of the Fyre’s seclusion, a caravan of Imperial Guard and servants lug several large wooden chests into the courtyard of their manor as every members of their household gather out in front. “His Holiness requests the presence of the Fyre in the Imperial Quarters,” the head steward beseeches. 

Several hands unlock and opens to the five chest to reveal a plethora of glittering jewelries in one, silk and high end fabrics in another, and artifacts of high values and important from various states across Kurenai in the last three. They are treasures beyond compare and they beckon the Fyre to come closer and be move the Furie’s magnanimous gesture. 

The Fyre takes one look at them with uninterested eyes and quickly turns away. “Send it all back,” he says dismissively before walking back into his room to the disbelief of everyone in the courtyard. 

After Ein kicks effectively kick everyone else out, Tanel walks up to her and whines, “Why didn’t the Fyre accept His Holiness’ apology gifts already?! He finally got the Furie’s attention, doesn’t that count for something?”

Ein flicks his forehead. “Not even,” she scolds. Tanel didn’t see the hope that had lit in the Fyre’s eyes for a moment before it quickly squashed out by the disappointment in the so called ‘gifts’. This isn’t what the Fyre wanted at all.

The Furie is the Master of Fate, King of Kings, Lord of the Hallows, and the Anointed One, yet in the matters of the heart is he is like a babe in the wilds.  

On the twelve days, another caravan arrives at the footstep of their door but this time they bring several chests full of books from the Imperial Library. Books are forbidden from leaving the grounds of the Inner Core yet by the order of His Holiness the books are brought here, anyway.

The shallow gifts earlier had failed to gain the Fyre’s interest, but the books are another story.

Ein and everyone else holds their breath as the Fyre walks toward the open chest with a speculative look. “Leave those here,” the Fyre finally says, hands carefully combing over the cover of a large tome, “but you all may go.”

It’s another dismissal. Another failure as the Fyre remains in willful exile.

On the thirteen days, the caravan comes again but there’s no chest this time; a single edict. Ein and Tanel quickly fall on their knees, ready to receive the Furie’s proclamation but His Majesty steps forward and rips the scroll carrying the official words of the Furie from the steward’s hand. “Before he is my king, he is my husband,” the Fyre snaps, green eyes alight with the fire of defiance. “If he wants to say something, say it to my face.”

He takes the scroll with him as he storms back into his room in a huff, leaving them all horrified by his bold act. To reject an edict sent by the Furie is an act of treason, but their Fyre doesn’t seem to even have a drop of care.

“Are we going to be executed?!” Tanel whispers worriedly in her right ear.

She glares at him. “Be quiet.”

After coming out of his shock stupor, the steward quickly composes himself once more and not saying another word to either of them, he hurriedly rush out of the manor with the caravan.

In the next following days after the Fyre’s bold move, there were no more caravans or visitors to their manor. Anxiety reigns in their household with each passing day that they haven’t heard from the Furie. Even His Majesty’s carefully crafted mask of aloof indifference is starting crack under the weight of the disquiet. The Fyre’s rebellion may have pushed His Holiness too far and lost him altogether.

“His Majesty had offended the Furie, now we’ll never leave this place,” Tanel laments over dinner with the two of them as the Fyre went to bed early in a sour mood. Ein had caught him sitting by the window while his book was opened on his lap but his eyes drifted toward the east, beyond the walls of Inner Core where His Holiness reside in. Not even his beloved book could hold his interest for long, not when his longing was near palpable. “I didn’t think there exist anyone as stubborn as His Holiness. It’s like fire on fire.”

Unlike the last few times Tanel’s remarks had earned him her ire and rebuke, this time she couldn’t even argue.

On a boring and unexpected nineteen days since the Fyre had ran away, the doors of their manor is once again grace by visitors. This time there’s no caravan of soldiers and servants, no chests with elaborate gifts, and no steward to bring the personal words of the Furie to their doors because this time the Furie has personally come himself. It’s just him and his personal attendance.

Ein and Tanel quickly drop to the ground with their head pressed against it. “Your humble servant greets His Holiness,” they say. “May the sun rise upon your brilliance and the moon shines on your grace.”

“Rise,” the Furie grunts out, and they get back to their feet just in time to see the Furie stepping pass them without another word to meet the other person who had been quietly watching them.

“My lord,” the Fyre says, dry and humorless. Face carefully neutral, but his shoulders are tense and his hands are fisted at his side, like he’s gearing up for another battle.

The Furie takes a cautious step forward toward him, looking as though he has never felt more unsure than right at this moment. In the glaring lights of the day and in front of the one he had wronged, the Furie is but another young man just like the rest; human, fallible, and hesitant.  

Seeing it all in action, it’s like witnessing two unstoppable objecting colliding. A collision is bound to happen, but nobody knows if the fallout is irreparable.

“The Imperial Quarters,” the Furie coughs into his hand as though to clear his throat as his eyes flit elsewhere for a second, “has been annoyingly quiet without your constant yammering so come back already.” He extents his right hand toward the Fyre and waits.

It’s not an outright apology nor a concession either, but it’s close enough. For the Furie to willingly come here to retrieve the Fyre himself that in itself is a bold statement. As proud and ornery as their Furie this was the equivalent of him lowering his head to ask for the Fyre back.

Ein’s heart is set alight with hope and warmth. They’re young and still new at this whole relationship thing that most take years and years to master, but they’re learning. Clumsily and full of mistakes, they reach toward each other because this bond is may not be their choice but in this way they choose each other.

Something in the Fyre’s break, the frigid cool indifference melting away to a slow creeping smile on his face. “You could have just said you miss me, my lord,” he teases, his voice thick with a merriment that Ein hasn’t heard in so many days.

“Don’t push it,” the Furie says tartly beside him. “I’m not coming here to pick you up if you run out on me again.”

The Fyre snorts in disbelief and even to Ein’s own ears that had sounded like a lie, but for now they’ll let him have it. After all sometimes marriage is about compromise, they both will soon learn.

Chapter Text

When Izuku walk into the main hall of their home and see Katsuki, standing there dressed in a vest and waistcoat and looking all proper and dandy, it gives him a slight pause. He blinks, jaw loose. "Are you going somewhere?"

For which Katsuki immediately frowns. "No, we are."

Izuku’s brows furrow in thought. He can't recall any appointments they may have made to go out tonight. They’d just visited Katsuki's parents two days ago and Izuku, regretfully, doesn't have many friends here in Tokyo to make a habit of going out every night. "Am I missing something?" he prods.

"The Earl of Utaupau's soiree is this evening," Katsuki answers, as his foot taps on the floor irritably.

"Oh," he says, eyes widen in recognition, "but I declined their invitation earlier." He isn't close with the Earl of Utaupau enough to warrant an invitation but he knows her husband quite well; they're in the same book club. Fuji Jun been asking Izuku to attend their party for a while now, but he’d always declined it as he's not familiar with their social circle and doesn't want to embarrassed himself by coming alone. "Wait," a light gasp slips pass his lips, "will you be going with me?"

Katsuki gives him the most unimpressed look. "I rescinded your rejection yesterday, so hurry up and get dress already or we'll be late."

Since Izuku had moved in with him, Katsuki had avoided all social events and Izuku has always intended them unaccompanied by his husband. He had to put on a smile and braced for questions about the whereabouts of Katsuki, often making up excuses that sound less believable each time as he endured the pitiful looks directed at him. That poor omega, their eyes seemed to say, can't even keep his mate around. So, this is a momentous occasion for him. Izuku can barely contains the joy rising in his chest as he picks up the skirt of his kimono and rushes toward his bedroom to change for the party.

"Don't run, you idiot!" Katsuki shouts exasperatedly after him, but Izuku won't be stop.

All the decorum and propriety momentarily thrown aside in his excitement. He doesn't know what brought in this change of attitude in Katsuki, but he'll take it!

As soon as Izuku slips into his bedroom, he combs through his closet for an appropriate attire to match Katsuki's own.

It's the first time they'll be presented to the kazoku as a married couple and they will be representing the entire legacy of the Bakugou family, he can't afford any missteps, but more importantly he doesn't want to disappoint Mitsuki-san for all the kindness she'd bestowed upon him.

His eyes immediately fall upon the western gowns that he had purchased since his arrival here. He'd worn them to all the events he’d been invited to so far for the need to conform to the current western trend overtaking the cities, even though he's more comfortable in his traditional kimonos. He bites his lower lip in thought, looking at all the beautiful dresses in his closet. Then, he closes the door and turns around. Instead, he heads toward his drawers and pulls out a well-loved, jade color furisode with red-orange flowers woven into the silk.

It's a hand-me down from his mother who got it from her father. Traditionally worn by the omegas in his household, it has been meticulously taken care of and only to be brought out for special occasions. Today feels like it for Izuku. It's a good statement as any. He won't fail as a son-in-law of the Bakugou.

Izuku calls up on the servants to help him get dress and fix his hair. They have to rush to get it all done as Katsuki's lack of patience is thoroughly known in the household, but Katsuki shouldn't have told him about this party last minute. He could have spent hours preparing, but he knows how to make do with what he has. It's the foundation of every good omega. They have always been given so little that they learned long ago to weave the sky out of fishnets; he's nothing if not resourceful. With the help of the servants, he's done in twenty minutes.

Izuku's zori beats the floor as he hurries to the main hall as though every second slip by means the less chance Katsuki will be there waiting for him.

"I told you not to run," Katsuki says, with narrowed eyes as soon as it lands on Izuku's presence entering the room.

He’s still standing exactly where he was the last time Izuku saw him; effortlessly handsome in his formal waistcoat and tie even with the perpetual frown on his face. When Katsuki allows it, it's easy to remember why he was formerly the most desired bachelor in Tokyo and Izuku is lucky to have secured him.

"Sorry, we had a problem with tying the obi," Izuku admits sheepishly, awkwardly patting the skirt of his furisode as though he just needs something to keep his hands occupied.

Somehow, he is inexplicably shy all of sudden even though Katsuki had seen him in his furisode before. It's like they're going out on their first date. And they're married for god's sake! But they never went out together in any official's capacity so Izuku feels an equal mix of excitement and anxiety.

He wonders if Katsuki feels the same. Probably not, Izuku thinks wistfully.

Katsuki stares at him. "You look—" He stops, turns away, and then looks back at him. Jaw tightens. Shakes his head. The corner of his lips pinch before he lets out a sigh resignedly. "Whatever, let's just go," he says, and rushes right out as though the devil’s is on his heels.

Izuku had watched the entire sequence with a barely hidden puzzlement, but makes no further note of it. After all, it's not like Katsuki has indicate any interest in him in anyway. He doesn't want to get his hope up again, only to have it miserably crushed under Katsuki's boots. He pinches the back of his hand and the sharp pain is enough wakes himself up from his pool of disappointment. There's just no time to sink any deeper in it. They're going to a soiree together. As a couple. Married. And it's enough to lights the hope in him. Every little step counts in the end.

Izuku follows after Katsuki and climbs into the awaiting carriage. He takes the seat opposite of Katsuki, whose eyes been glued to the window the entire time even as the carriage starts to move.

Awkward silence descends upon them, but Izuku has long learned how to tolerate it. To live it with it comfortably.

"How do you know the Earl of Utaupau to get an invitation out of her?" Katsuki asks suddenly.

Izuku immediately perks up. "I am quite familiar with her husband rather. We're actually in the same book club. From what I know, they're a very nice couple. If you want, I can introduce you to them." He tilts his head curiously. "But why do you want to go to their party?"

Katsuki looks like he didn't want to answer, but then: "There's been several reports of missing imperial's armaments and we managed to traced it back to Fuji Momoe. We believe she’s smuggling them out of the country using her merchant ships. I need to get close to her to find the evidence and where she’s taking those weapons."

Izuku shouldn't have ask. Sometimes, it's better to stay ignorance. "Oh, I see," he says, keeping his face blank and revealing nothing. Not the disappointment settling in his stomach or the dejection that makes its way into his heart. Really, he should have known better by now.

Katsuki is devoted to the service of his country and obsessed with fixing what's wrong with it; it's a noble cause, but love much like marriage, Izuku knows, has never enter Katsuki's consideration unlike him, who dedicate his entire being to being a good spouse, a good mate. They got married young and at the behest of their parents, but while Izuku had long made his peace with it, the day after their wedding Katsuki enlisted in the army and went to war just to get away from him. That would be enough for anyone to incinerate whatever hope in their heart. But Izuku lives in a state of wishful thinking. It's all he has. They may be married for several years now, but they haven't been a couple for long. If they can learn how, maybe, just maybe—he looks at Katsuki pensively. "If there's anything I can do to assist your case then—"

"No, absolutely fucking not," Katsuki snaps abruptly.

"But I want to help!" Izuku insists, leaning forward as Katsuki leans back.

"I don't want or need it," he hisses, bristling with contempt. "What can you even do to assist me? You have no training or experience in this."

"I—" Izuku bites down on his lower lip, letting the rest of his sentence die on his tongue. "You're right." He smiles. It feels cold and artificial on him, but he keeps it firmly in place like a mask over his face. "I'm sorry, I clearly don't know what I'm talking about. I should just mind my own business and focus on the household affairs instead. That's more of my area of expertise."

"That's not—" He looks away, face pinched and hands clenched tightly in his lap before turning back to Izuku. "I didn't mean it like that," he says, chagrin.

"It's fine," Izuku dismisses with a laugh, but it doesn't sound anything like himself even to his own ears. It’s hallow, like a broken marionette who had just learned to laugh. "I understand."

"No." He shakes his head, looking urgent. "It's dangerous. Better trained people have been hurt on the case before. I don't want to risk it with you."

"Oh," Izuku says breathlessly, excititement seizing him.

"You're a fucking civilian," he says, a serious expression on his face. "We prefer not to risk the civilians in our dumbass, risky military operation or else it would look bad on us."

"Oh," Izuku says, less enthusiastically now. It whittles down into nothing.

This is what it's like to be bound to a man who is so entrenched in his military duty and service that he thinks everything in the context of a tactical maneuver. Marriage is a battlefield and love is a weapon of war. Sometimes, Izuku feels like he may have won the fight, but already lost the war.

It makes one want to quit before he gets too deep, but stubbornness is been bred into his bones. It's his greatest strength and greatest flaw, his mother used to say to him as a kid when he would wait patiently for Katsuki to visit him every summer but he never did again after he'd turned 13. It's how he ended up sticking through a loveless marriage for five years because he's convinced they are a good match and didn't feel the immediate urge to punch Katsuki when he came for him later just because he believes he can make their marriage work and Mitsuki had demanded Katsuki to bring Izuku back to Tokyo after having discarded him like a burden to go to war.  

Looking back now, Izuku might be a little masochistic to endure so much but a part of him will always wonder if they had met under a difference circumstance and their marriage wasn't arranged, would they have work? At least let him try, let him prove that they can make it work despite everything. It's that bone-headed stubbornness of his rearing its head up again, but it doesn't make it any easier to bear.

He sighs, turning his head to look out the window as though it provides him with all the answer he's looking for. Marriage is truly a testament to a person's character. Finding nothing else to say, Izuku occupied his time with the scenery outside, but of the corner of his eyes, every now and then he can see Katsuki trying to steal glances at him; his lips open and close as though he has something to say, but his mouth just won't work right.

Katsuki looks particularly annoy with himself about it. Communication has never been his strong point.

If Izuku was feeling particularly merciful right now, he would help him out, but no. He'll let Katsuki stew in a little longer in the awkward, stilted silence between them. The rest of the ride is a tense affair, but Izuku has no intention of diffusing the situation. Let Katsuki familiarize himself with Izuku's rough waters, let him knows how his fury can ravage the sturdiest hulls and overturn ships before settling back to into calm waters.

He rarely allows himself to get caught up in his own anger, too busy balancing other people's emotions on his shoulders, but for this moment he'll indulge and give into the pettiness of it all. So, he continues to give Katsuki's the cold shoulder while Katsuki looks on in pain. Deserved.

Finally, their carriage arrive at the front of the Fuji's estate and the stalemate comes to an end. He can almost hear the respite in Katsuki's voice when he says, "We're here."

Izuku dips his head, tucking away the amusement bubbling within him at Katsuki's obvious relief. It’s admittedly fun to see Katsuki struggle so much here like a fish out of water, despite having gone through hell in war.

Katsuki gets out first and the second he land on the ground, he turns around. He holds his hand out expectantly for Izuku to take. Izuku stares at it, then smiles sweetly at him before disregarding it. He hops out of the carriage and walks pass Katsuki, not even glancing back at him. Katsuki may be a master in warfare and a veteran on multiple battlefields, but Izuku is just as eager to learn and quick to pick up lessons from the guide book: "How to Unknot Your Knot-Headed Alpha". After all, before you commit yourself to a fight, you must know your enemy first.

He may not be well-versed in military tactics, but he can use the knowledge he gained from his many readings and weaponized it against Katsuki. It's not the best idea but he knows books, he knows them intimately well, when there was nothing else to do but wait for Katsuki to come for him. Knowledge can be as potent as any gun or sword. He just need to know how to wield correctly.

"Are you really that angry?" He hears Katsuki demands from behind him.

Izuku stops, but doesn't turn around. "Am I?" he retorts back, knowing that it'll just rile Katsuki up even more when he'd always prefer direct confrontation, so Izuku's vague indirect often pisses him off.

Katsuki's expectation of honesty and transparency, lacking the patient for subterfuge versus Izuku's need to compartmentalized his emotions to mask his true feelings in order maintain the image of the perfect spouse, the idealized omega, makes their personality grinds against each other like broken glass. Izuku works hard to succeed within the expectations given to him by everyone, while Katsuki violently rebukes the chains placed upon him by his title and legacy; their creed is polarizing. It's amazing they haven't killed each other in the months that they been living together.

"You are, don't bullshit me." He scoffs loudly like he knew exactly what Izuku is doing, while Izuku chooses to ignore him and heads inside first instead.

Katsuki curses at him so vividly that it can easily be heard by many as a servant, who's there greet them, tries hold back his gasp.

"He'll be fine once he gets some food in him,” he informs the servant, the lies rolling off of his tongue so easily that he can already imagine Katsuki's scolding him severely if he'd heard it.

"Uh, yes," the young man says, largely confused still but remains prudent to his job. "This way, sir."

Izuku follows the servant into the first of many entryways of the Fuji's manor. It easily exemplified the clean, white lines of European aesthetics; it's imposing and overly ostentatious with too many square windows and pillars that opened into grand hallways and ballrooms.

He is then met with the house steward, who requests his house seal and invitation to verify his identity. Izuku hands them over to him and as soon as he was given the clear by the steward, the man coughs and looks at Izuku pointedly.

"Are you by yourself tonight, sir?" he asks.

Izuku blinks, finally realizing that he arrived here alone and in the eyes of outsiders he must have look deranged enough to come to a gathering of elites unaccompanied by neither family or friends. A social taboo in the higher circle.

"Um." He flushes, momentarily taken back.

It's not every day that he would ever make such a silly mistake. He knows better. "Well, I-"

"Sir," the steward cuts in with a frown, "do you really want to be presented alone? Even with someone of your standing, it's still strictly inappropriate for an omega go unchaperoned-"

"He's with me," he suddenly hears someone snarl behind him, "so stop accosting my husband. Know your fucking place, you unwashed cur." The pungent odor of a pissed off alpha permeates the air, sinking into every corners and crevices; it sours the scent of everything in the room.

Horrified, the steward stumbles and drops to his knees. "M-my lord," he begs, "I apologize for stepping out of line. Have mercy on me!"

Katsuki steps into the space next to Izuku, but doesn't even acknowledge his presence. His eyes are focus on the groveling man before them.

"Remember to show respect to my husband next time you see his face or I'll take you out into the yard and shoot you in the head with my pistol," he threatens, eyes narrowing in disdain. The pheromone he exudes is suffocating, even Izuku has hard time breathing under the weight of it.

That poor beta is probably experiencing the worst of it now. "Kacchan," he says, lips pressed into a thin line. Not husband, my lord, or anything respectful but Kacchan. And it's all he has to say, but it's enough to clear the heavy, choking scent and pressure around them.

Izuku clears his throat as the man gingerly gets up from the floor with shaky legs. "It’s understandable. Don’t worry, we appreciate your efforts," he says, after Katsuki refused to say anything to help him out. He rolls his eyes, because clearly he's the only one who has any manners between them.

And that's all the permission the steward needs to make a quick exit, leaving them to stand in the foyer all alone with no other servants nearby to play buffer or interrupt them.

It's uncomfortable.

Katsuki doesn't say anything and Izuku doesn't have much else to say either. They both could easily play this spat out longer if necessary. After all, they're both stupidly bullheaded enough to dig down on their respective side and refuse to budge for the other just to make their point. It's petty and juvenile and Izuku is oh, so tired of it now.

He extends a hand toward Katsuki. This time it's him who take the first step, because he's not cruelled enough to hold it over him forever. A long-lasting relationship can't be built on the fractured foundation of anger and hurt, especially if there's never any attempt to fix it.

"Truce?" Izuku asks, lips twitching. He's not angry anymore. It's hard to be when Katsuki is like this. Like an overgrown wolf at Izuku's heels, who is pretending to be unbothered but his wagging tails reveal his true feelings. "Or should we continue our fight into the party like squabbling children?"

"So you finally admit to being angry at me." He sneers.

Izuku shrugs. "I never said I wasn't."

"You—" Katsuki starts before deflating in an exasperated sigh. That seems to happen around Izuku a lot.

"Well?" He prods, wiggling his fingers pointedly as Katsuki glares at him.

For a second, he thinks Katsuki's pride won't let him take the peace offering but then he reaches over and grips his hand into his own. Katsuki squeezes it meaningfully but delicately. "You're so infuriating," he says, and if Izuku let himself believe it, it sounds almost fond.

He stifles a laugh, the long sleeve of his free hand covering the burgeoning smile on his face. "Only for you, my lord."

It would be easy to continue to nurture that anger within him, but Katsuki in his clumsy and blundering attempt of an apology snuffs out any residual anger. Sometimes when he wonders why he stay, it's moment like this that he's reminded that Katsuki for all his prickliness and general contempt, he's a good man with a good heart even if he's not very good at expressing it; he's trying, often unsuccessfully but he's definitely trying.

This time the silence that falls upon them is comfortable and easy like an old friend. It's the familiar and pleasant feeling of being around someone who know you so well that you don't need to speak to extend the time. It's what he longs for in the murky water of their marriage. The comfort and stability of a relationship built on trust and love, and effective communication should not be a difficult goalpost to achieve, at least that's what he used to think, but facing the hurdles of marriage now he understands it take time and effort to get that far.

It's okay though, they have time, many years ahead of them, if Katsuki allow it.

Izuku casts a glance at him, who has been resolutely avoiding his gaze the entire time, but Katsuki's hand is warm in his and the feeling of dampness—he stops and looks down at their joint hand.

He raises their clasped hand up for Katsuki to see. "Am I making you nervous, Kacchan? Your hand is sweating," he teases, giggling into his sleeve as Katsuki yanks his hand out of Izuku's grip.

"No!" Katsuki balks so violently that he even takes a step back, hackles rising.

His expression cloudy and dark as he glares at Izuku which only cause Izuku's smile widens even more. It feels good to have the upper hand for once. It makes him bold, daring and a little dangerous as Izuku steps forward, encroaching into Katsuki's space. "Do I scare you, hm?"

Katsuki's eyes narrow, his hands curling into a ball at his side as he makes his stand. "Do you want to die?" he grits out instead.

Izuku leans toward him till the space between them is a breath and a half, and Katsuki bristles with unresolved tension like a caged animal.

"You didn't answer my question," he says, knowingly poking the beast before him. He's mad. Gone absolutely crazy as he walks right into the gaping jaw of the beast, ready to be devoured by it.

"You dare," Katsuki bites out, his hand snapping around Izuku's waist to hold him still.

"My lords, we're ready—" The girl suddenly lets out a shocked squeak at the sight of Katsuki's arms around him and their face just about to collide. Katsuki quickly detangles himself from Izuku and shoves Izuku behind him to hide from the sudden intruder. "What," he snaps at the poor, horrified girl.

"I-I'm so, so sorry! I didn't see anything. My eyes are really bad," she scrambles to say, eyes glued to the floor. "P-please excuse me, I'll just give you two a moment." And she runs out before either of them can say anything otherwise, leaving Katsuki and Izuku equally stunned.

Haunted, Izuku stares at her retreating back before he numbly drops to the floor in humiliation, knees bent and face planted on his arms as he lets out an anguish cry. With his face in flame and the vivid memory of what he did, he feels like a criminal caught in the act.

He was practically all over Katsuki like a courtesan! No, even worst then that. A courtesan would have more decency than to harassed Katsuki like that and in public no less! So shameless, he could die right here in the face of his impropriety, unbefitting of his station. Where did all his respectability go? Just bury him six feet under already. Oh god, Mitsuki-san is going to disown him. She'll make Katsuki divorce him and forbid him from ever stepping a foot near Katsuki when she hears about how he'd dragged the Bakugou name through the mud.

All that training in etiquette and decorum that was ingrained in him went out the window because he got way over his head. Katsuki had seem frazzled, defenseless in front of him and Izuku thought he could poke at it to make Katsuki crumble. It was his turn. He had the power. Katsuki has always been so meticulous and untouchable with all that he'd accomplished and done so far that he seems to be out of Izuku's reach, but just this once Izuku felt like he had the upper hand and Katsuki was just a mere mortal before him, wholly flawed and human. Izuku thought he could conquer him.

“Are you done sulking?"

Izuku feels someone lightly kicking him in the side, but he still refuses to budge.

"Get up," Katsuki orders. "You're not a child."

"No," Izuku bemoans into his arm. "How can I ever face anyone again after this?"

"You're being overly dramatic." He grunts.

Izuku gingerly raises his head. "You don't understand!" he says, voice choked with despair. "This will be all over the news the next day. Everyone will know about it and think the worst of me. Mitsuki-san will be so disappointed that she'll never want to see me again!"

“That's unlikely." Katsuki hums thoughtfully, sounding much calmer then he has any right to be when Izuku's life is in shambles. It makes Izuku feel worst off and alone. "The old hag stupidly adores you. If she could trade me for you, she would do in a fucking a heartbeat."

Izuku's lips wobble precariously. "Even if Mitsuki-san forgive me, everybody else won't!"

"Stop worrying about it," Katsuki says, rolling his eyes. "What's done is done. Even though you were a dumbass, we didn't do anything wrong so who the fuck care with others think?"

Katsuki may not care but Izuku cares. He cares too much. The perfect image that he worked so hard to cultivate is now in ruin. Everyone will know how he tried to seduce his husband out in the foyer of the Fuji's manor because he couldn't keep it in his pants like a wanton whore.

He looks up at Katsuki with wounded eyes. "Kacchan." It's a plead and a cry all wrapped up in a single name like they're kids again and Katsuki would fight all of Izuku's enemies for him. Katsuki heaves a sigh like Izuku's existence pains him as he bends down and pulls him up.

"How are you so brazen one moment and so skittish the next?" He muses. "You're a goddamn menace. What am I even supposed to do with you?"

Izuku sulks. "You’re bullying me!"

Katsuki pinches his side meaningfully and glares. "You're the one who tried to bully me first, asshole!"

He pouts. "I was just teasing you," he protests at the defamation of his character.

"You're annoying is what you are," Katsuki scolds, but the way he suddenly reaches over to carefully dust off any dirt from the skirt of Izuku's kimono blunts the edge off of his words.

Katsuki's words are harsh and abrasive, but his actions often revealed the gentleness that undercut it. It's endearing, hopelessly so. A broad smile spread across Izuku's face and this time he doesn't try to hide it. Katsuki looks stun for a second before hurriedly looking away.

Unlike previously, Izuku doesn't make an effort to provoke him this time. He's content to quietly sit in this bubble of happiness with Katsuki as they wait for someone to come for them.

It isn't along before the same maidservant is back much to Izuku's lingering embarrassment. She doesn't look at either of them in the eyes as she says, "If you're ready, my lords. Please follow me in." 

They look at each other, nod, and proceed to follow the girl beyond the heavy doubled doors. The girl leads them through a long, monotone hallway that never seems to end.

Eventually, she stops right in front of a wall of red curtains. "The master of ceremonies will announce your arrival in a moment," she tells them. "I'll be taking my leave then, my lords."

Just as she about to depart, Katsuki suddenly stops her. "Wait," he says, walking up to her. In a voice barely audible enough for Izuku to hear, he says, "If I hear anything about what you just saw this evening in the gossip column next week, I'll know where to find you." It's void of the profanities that often colored his words, but the threat is there and it's real.

The girl flinches and nods her head frantically. The second Katsuki releases her, she makes a dash for the exit like she couldn't get away from them fast enough. Which given that both Izuku and Katsuki had scared her twice already in the span of fifteen minutes is understandable.

"Kacchan," he calls out.

"What,” Katsuki snaps defensively, like he's gearing for another fight. "I'm just making sure that she knows the consequence of a loose tongue."

Honestly, Izuku shouldn't let him get away with it. It's rude and probably traumatizing for the girl. They done enough damaged to her already, but just this once though. "Thanks," he says, eyes crinkling and smiling softly.

Katsuki appears stunned by it and he seizes that chance to slide next to Katsuki. He bumps their shoulder together then hooks a pinky around Katsuki's own. He gives it a light tug, feeling his ears heating up and the roar of his heart nearly palpating right out of his chest. They often used to do this as kids, pinky hooked together whenever one of them needed comfort, before Katsuki had outgrew it, outgrew them.

Just as he about to let go, Katsuki drags his pinky back and forced them remained bound. He tucks the joint pinkies behind their back, hidden away from public view like it's a secret just for them.

"This is fine?" he asks lowly.

"Y-yes," Izuku answers, quietly and feverishly.

Izuku had done more daring things then this tiny act of familiarity, but this feels monumental and profound in a way that disturbed the calm waters of his heart. It invokes the memories of their childhood, revealing that even Katsuki hasn't completely forgotten those feelings either.

It's a comforting to know that those rose-colored summers that they'd spent together as kids still lingers within both of them. The good times may not have lasted long, but the memories of those day still remains.  

He's content just to hold on to Katsuki's pinky just a bit more.

"Announcing the arrival of Lord Bakugou Katsuki and Bakugou Izuku, the Earl and Countess of Aldera," they hear the master of ceremonies introduce them to the crowd on the other side of the curtains.

Izuku lets go of Katsuki's pinky, and this time he's met with no resistance. He shut his eyes and breathes in and out, and when he opens his eyes again the person called Midoriya Izuku retreats to give away to the Countess of Aldera. It's time.

The thick curtain parts for them, and they walk through it side by side, presenting a united front.

What greet them on the other side is a wide descending staircase and an enormous ballroom that extends deep into the sanctum of the manor. A flurry of chatter rises from the crowd at their appearance, but neither Izuku or Katsuki choose to acknowledge their blatant stare.

They arrive at the bottom of the staircase and the curious gaze on them gets heavier and heavier, but no one dare to approach them. Izuku is met with the familiar faces of Tokyo's elite even though he doesn't know them but he knows their family and the influence of their name. Their judging stare and the curious murmurs of that broke among them, Izuku feels the weight of it all and endures it. It does not buckle his knees. It does not strain his shoulders. He won't be move. He does not reveal a single disturbance in the calm of water of his heart.

It's another story though when Katsuki leans near his ear and Izuku jolts slightly at the sudden close proximity. "I'm going to the salon to see if I can find Fuji and any other information there, so I'll meet you back here later," Katsuki says, and before Izuku can process the thought, off he goes into the crowd.

Abruptly, not even five steps into his departure, he stops. Looks back at Izuku with his brows pinched. "Stay out of trouble," he warns, leaving Izuku's jaw slightly slacked with disbelief.

Which is completely unfair because when has Izuku ever cause any trouble in his life?"

He can't even complain about it before Katsuki pushes his way pass the noise and disappears into the sea of party-goers, leaving Izuku to fend for himself at a hunting ground disguised as a social gathering. As though sensing his weakness at last, the vultures descend upon him.

A woman in a blue turquoise gown breaks away from the crowd to approach him. "Oh my, it is so lovely to see you tonight, Countess Bakugou," she gushes. "We weren't expecting you, but we're happy that you're here nonetheless."

Izuku lowers his head in greeting. "Lady Onaga."

"I'm curious, was that your husband with you?" Onaga asks, and at Izuku's nod her eyes light up. "Oh, I haven't seen that boy in years," she smiles sharply, "since your beautiful wedding, I reckon."

Izuku returns her smile with his own that is just as cutting. And so it begins.

It’s a sore subject. Everyone in the kazoku knows the story of how the Earl of Aldera enlisted in the military just a few days after his wedding and his new spouse was sent back home afterward like a discarded good. It was the scandal of the year. Izuku's greatest humiliation.

"It certainty has been a while," Izuku agrees amiably. "Five years in fact."

"That long?" Onaga muses and then she blinks as though taken back. "Ah, forgive me. I just realized that must have been such a difficult time for you, my dear." She looks at him with pity in her eyes.

Izuku's smile never waver. "Not as difficult as my lord having to fight on multiple battlefronts for the glory of our empire," he says, like he'd rehearsed these lines for so long, "so I can only do my part and fulfill my spousal duty at home while I wait for him to come back."

Onaga is not the first to take a jab at him like this and she certainly would not be the last, but Izuku knows the beat of this dance. He had five years to get used to it. Five years to learned how to arm himself with clever quips and a smile that was sharpened into steel.

Unperturbed and well versed in this intricate dance, Onaga's expression betrays nothing. "My mistake," she apologizes, looking contrite. "I'm relief though to know you and your husband's heart remains close to each other despite the distance and years that separate you two. Now all the rumors of Lord Bakugou spending all his free time in teahouses can be put to rest at last." Of course she couldn't stab at him without trying to dig another knife into him. "That must have been annoying to put up with. Such gossiping pests these people are." She huffs.

But Izuku's defense is not lacking either. "Thank you," he says, letting his eyes soften at the mention of Katsuki, "but our relationship is still young, so it's understandable that people speculate on it. We can only hope to measure up to you and Lord Onaga's deep bond one day."

Onaga barely manages to hold back a flinch at the mention of her wayward husband, who despite their marriage of over thirty years, is widely known for his various infidelities, but no one is brave enough to bring it up in front of her because of how she easily suppressed them. Izuku dares to though. He dares only because she took a stab at his relationship with Katsuki first. What they are and stands for is nobody's business but theirs. He doesn't need anyone's false sympathy and concern as though they actually care, as though their opinion matters.

But Onaga is a seasoned warrior on this battlefield of clashing words. Izuku's attempt at striking back at her appears to only scraped her by the way her eyes narrowed but her charitable tone never changes. "You're too kind, my dear," she says. "I'm sure you'll get there one day, but I was surprise to see your lovely face at this party though. Unexpected but not unwanted. Your presence is a delight here especially the way you chose to present yourself tonight." She looks him up and down in a slow scrutinizing motion. "How adorable. It's very, hm, quaint."

Izuku's body stiffens and his smile is frozen and rigid on his face as his eyes quickly scans across the room to see everyone else dressed in their beautiful and fashionable in western attires, while he stands alone and separated in a conventional, old kimono. It's jarring. Onaga's words play over and over in his head. Adorable and quaint she had described him, but what she had meant was traditional and out of style. Basic, boring and dull. Inflexible. Among the kazoku elite of Tokyo, Izuku is but a countryside boor with a lack of taste and grace.

Izuku suppresses the tremor rattling in his heart. Onaga truly knows how to find the chinks in his armor and dig deep into his open wound. He always been proud of who he is and where he came from, but sometimes shame creep up on him when he is reminded of his own inadequacies.

In the past decades, foreign influences swept across the land and took root among the people; the coastal towns and big cities were quick to adapt the trendy western clothes and lifestyle but in the countryside, where Izuku has lived all his life, change comes slow and reluctantly. They're less likely to accept the changes that comes from outside influences, so while Izuku is eager to learn of the strange and new western customs that made its way into his small town, their traditional way of life and values is ingrained in him. It's a key part of who he is. Having been sheltered in his hometown for so long, Izuku isn't as worldly or modern as many of the young nobles of the upper-class in the cities.

Particularly, the omegas here are forward and loud, strong in opinions. Their colorful personality makes him feel drab in comparison. He knows he doesn't quite measure up in his stale state especially when Katsuki was able to see much of the world during his enlistment, while Izuku'd never once left home until his marriage. Even Tokyo was strange and alien to him, when he'd first step foot on its cobble streets. The stuffy suit and low necklines that adorned every body, and then there are the soirees and tea parties that both served as a battleground of wits and a hub of gossip and entertainment, he had to quickly learn how to navigate these minefields in order to stand on his own.

Sometimes, it makes Izuku wonder if he was another omega from the same background as Katsuki, who was able to grow up in this city alongside him, would Katsuki have enlisted into the military right after their wedding? Would Izuku have been enough then for him to stay? It's these question that haunts him late at night when he sees the empty space next to him. Always speculating if he was slightly better, more cultured and sophisticated and bold like these omegas here would it have change anything for him? Would have it made any differences?

He doesn't know and, in that way, it terrifies him even more because now he is always left guessing the answers and doubting his own worth. This is what Onaga picked up on. It's how she know where to cut him deep and pry apart his wound. Make him hurt in a way no others can.

It's all his insecurities lay bared before her, and she is merciless. 

"This furisode is a family heirloom. It was handed down to my mother and now given to me," Izuku says, even the words sound wooden in his ears as he explained it.

"Is that so?" Onaga hums. "Charming. It must be so old. Not a bad thing usually, but doesn't quite fit the theme of the party, don't you think?"

"I—" He looks down at the elaborate detailing of his furisode that once made him so proud to inherit, to honor his mother, but now it feels cumbersome and heavy to wear.

He doesn't feel embarrassed by his choice of clothing. He shouldn't have to, but Onaga manages to make doubt himself. His tongue is stuck in his throat like a stiff board that won't budge as he fumbles to find the words to defend himself, but Onaga doesn't give him any chances.

"Though, I must say it's quite lovely," a pause, "if outdated and we can't have that, now can we?" she muses. "You wouldn't want others to think you're vapid in your daily life."

Izuku freezes in place. It's his worst fear. To be boring, dull and pass over by others. By Katsuki.

A handful of the kimono's fabric bunches into a fist at his side, wrinkling it in the process but it's the last thing on his mind. With lips pressed together, he looks upon Onaga's triumphant smile and desperately tries to find a rebuttal.

"As if Izuku-san could ever be boring," a new voice disrupts their stare down.

Izuku jerks his head toward the direction of the familiar cadence. "Jun-san!" The shock and joy in his voice leak through as though the tension has finally bled out of him. It's a comforting face of someone he knows.

"Fuji-sama," Onaga greets, her smile is now less thrilling.

A handsome young man in a burgundy suit dress walks up to them. He easily dwarfs them with his height and presence, but his face is bright and warmth. He comes off as friendly but that is first and last mistake you’ll ever make. "I hope you're not bullying my friend, Lady Onaga," says Fuji Jun, the Countess of Utaupa and host of this soiree.

His bluntness mashes the smile off of Onaga's face. "I wouldn't dare," she says stiffly. "I was only commenting on Bakugou-sama's choice of attire tonight and made some helpful suggestion on improving it."

"It is a suggestion or criticism?" Jun demands, raising a brow at her.  "Because there's a clear difference and from what I heard, your 'suggestions' are completely unwarranted and unnecessary anyway."

Onaga's left eye twitches. All image of pleasantries drops from her face. "What do you mean by that, Fuji-sama?" Annoyance obvious in her voice now.

Jun casts a furtive glance at Izuku, giving him a wink and the slightest uptick at corner of his mouth that settles the disturbance in Izuku's heart. I got your back, Jun manages to convey to him, and that simple gesture is enough to make him realize he's not alone anymore.

"You called him dull for not dressing like the rest of us but it's only because Izuku-san is not a sheep who blindly follow the herd." Jun roll his eyes. "Can't you see how he stands out right now because every one of us dress the same? I think that make him rather remarkable. I wish I had chosen to wear my furisode tonight so I don’t dress the same the rest."

Onaga bristles angrily. "We do not all dress the same! My gown is tailored made for me in Paris by a famous seamstress. There's no other like it in the world." She huffs in contempt, arms folded across her chest. "And there's nothing wrong with keeping up with the current trend!"

"Oh," Jun says, cocking his head thoughtfully. "So you just follow along with everyone else and have no individual thoughts of your own, I see how it is. And you would rather happily give your money to foreigners instead of supporting the people of your own country? That's nice."

Izuku lifts the sleeve of his kimono over the lower half of his face to hide the smile threatening to break through as Onaga's face goes redder by the moment. Jun's tongue is truly made of steel. It cuts deep to the bone without wasting a drop of blood. Onaga has finally met her match.

"Perhaps instead of putting others down for being different, you should praise Izuku-san for wearing what makes him comfortable and happy," Jun continues, unbothered by the growing enmity exuding from where Onaga is currently standing. "We could all learn a little from him."

And this time it's Izuku's turn to go red in the face. He desperately wants to protest these false claims but every time he attempts to open his mouth, Jun would sneak a pinch at his sleeve as though to say, let him have this. Let him strike Onaga down for the both of them.

Izuku isn't the only one who has been a victim of Onaga's barbed tongue from what Jun told him about his blacken history with her.

"I disagree," Onaga shoots back, "but clearly my opinion is unwanted here."

"I'm glad you have enough sense in you to able to take the hint," Jun retorts.

Onaga glares at Jun, then turns her attention to Izuku. "Fine, if you're not going to listen to me at least take this lesson well: don't ever get comfortable with what you have now, because it won't ever last. The person who makes you happiest now can easily ruin you one day."

It's a warning as much as she is speaking from someone who experienced it herself. "If you two would excuse me then," she says, composing herself up again with all the grace and dignify as though she hasn't been badgered by Jun in the last few minutes.

It's a stunning recovery.

"What a bitch," Jun declares at Onaga's retreating back. "That's what happen when your husband refuses to fuck you for over twenty years."

"Jun-san!" Izuku says, scandalized but the mirth in his voice says it all. It's not nice, but he bites his tongue and doesn't deny it.

Onaga is a bitter, old woman who enjoys making other miserable as entertainment, but despite knowing that he doesn't hate her. Not when she's also a tragic figure, whose marriage had failed her so now she lashes out at the world. It just makes him wonder if he's looking at his own future one day? But Izuku is not Onaga and Katsuki isn't Onaga's husband either, because for all of Katsuki's faults, fidelity is never a part of it and Izuku, no matter how stubborn he is, knows he shouldn't attach himself to a sinking ship. They won't end up like that. He'll make sure of it.

"Well, if she hadn't made me cry on my debutante ball and humiliated me so badly that I couldn't leave my house for weeks, I wouldn't have held onto my revenge for this long," Jun says with a sneer. "And she called me a leech on the Fujin's house just because I married into wealth!"

Before he was Fuji Jun, the Countess of Utaupa, he was Mitou Jun of a small, nearly insignificant barony. His family holds a title but no land or wealth was attached to it, but as the second son and omega, Jun was destined to married off to Fuji Momoe, the heir to an earldom. Childhood friends. Omega and alpha. A promise between their parents that ended with an arrange marriage between them. It's a tale Izuku knows well as it mirrors his own, but at least Jun and Momoe's story has a happy ending: they defied the odds and fell in love with each other.

"I know what she did was horrible, but we don't have to sink to her level," Izuku says instead. A slight twinge of guilt doesn't leave him. Onaga has her reason for being who she is and though it doesn't justify her actions, but he can understand where she's coming from.

Jun sighs. "That's because you're a sweetheart," he says, bumping Izuku's shoulder playfully. "You're way too good for her. For your hubby even." He makes a face at the mention of Katsuki. "I can't believe he's here with you tonight. I thought I was having a nightmare at first! You know, I invited him so many times but he never answers them, and these events aren't usually your thing either." He sulks. "You didn't even give enough time to be mentally prepare for your arrival."

Izuku giggles into his sleeve. "Kacchan was the one who wanted to come."

Jun's eyes go wide. "Has Bakugou Katsuki lost his mind then? He's so notorious for avoiding these parties that the last time I saw him at one, he only lasted ten minutes before storming out and that was the Emperor's birthday!"

Izuku's lips twitch. "That sounds like him."

"Even wifey was skeptical when I told her that you two were coming tonight. She called me a liar and told me to stop making up stuff!" he says, miffed at the reminder.

"I'm sorry," Izuku says, trying to console him. "It was a surprise for me too if it makes you feel any better."

"No." Jun sniffs, and just as Izuku frantically tries to come up with another apology, his face breaks into a big grin. "I jest. I'm just happy to see you here tonight with or without your grumpy ass hubby." He sighs wistfully. "Bakugou would be so handsome if he only smile a little more."

"I think Kacchan is handsome enough," Izuku immediately defends.

"Of course you would," Jun snorts, "you're in love. It makes everyone blind to each other's flaw."

This time it's Izuku's turn to pout. "But Kacchan is very handsome!"

Jun gives him a deeply skeptical look. "It's cute how delusion you are." Izuku opens his mouth to protest, but Jun plows on ahead without letting him get another word in. "At least tell me your relationship has improve enough for you to be his biggest defender tonight."

"Well, we're still working on it," Izuku admits.

Jun is one of the fews who knows of his tense relationship with Katsuki and whose advice been a god-send as he also had to win over his own spouse after their marriage. He's the only one who can understand Izuku's difficulties.

"Is that so?" Jun muses, looking at him dubiously. "Don't think I don't know what you two did in my foyer." He waggles his brows suggestively.

Izuku wants to cover his face in shame. "It isn't like that," he mumbles. "It's a misunderstanding!"

"Uh huh," Jun says, full of doubts. "I'm glad you guys are getting along better now." Abruptly, he leans in close and drops his voice to a whisper: "So have your hubby ravage you yet?"

Izuku chokes and goes red. "N-no!"

Jun looks at him in utter surprise. "Does the guide book I gave you not work?!" He frowns, squinting in thought. "Or is it just Bakugou's dick that isn't working?"

"No!" he says again, but louder. "It's not like that!" If Katsuki heard that, there would be blood tonight.

Jun frowns. "Then what's the problem?"

"We're still working things out." Izuku sighs, thinking of all his failed attempts at getting close to Katsuki. "It takes time."

"How much time you two even still need?!" Jun demands, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. "It been five years, he should have you bedded and bred by now!"

Izuku flushes, wishing he can sink to the floor in total shame. "As you know, it's complicated," he explains. "Kacchan only got his discharged six months ago and I arrived in Tokyo two months after, so we may be married for five years, but in reality, we only been together for four months as a couple."

"That's all the more reason to get going." Jun shakes his head at him hopelessly. "At least tell me how far you two gotten."

"Well," his gaze drifts to the side, "we held hands earlier."

"Pathetic!" Jun snorts, making Izuku wince as though he was in school again and Jun is his teacher who finds his effort lacking. "I know you can do better than that! Wait, didn't you tell me last time that you managed to climb in Bakugou's bed?" He raises his brow.

"With clothes on!" Izuku quickly replies, like he has to defend his and Katsuki's chastity, and that they're both disappointingly still intact. "We just slept side by side."

"Izuku-chan, you can do this," Jun starts, patting Izuku's shoulder as though he needs the moral support. "As great as my wife is, you must understand that alphas are emotionally stunted and dumb, so it's up to us omegas to hammered into their thick skull what we want and need. How you think I was able to snare my lady if I didn't lock us in my bedroom one night and vehemently spelled it to her that if she didn't knot me right the fuck now, I'll find another alpha to do it?" he says, looking proud at his past accomplishment while Izuku wants to die.

Izuku shut his eyes and breathes painfully through his nose. This conversation is making him lightheaded with embarrassment, but Jun means well and he's not exactly wrong. "What do you suggest I should do then?" He bites his lower lip in thought. "How do I move Kacchan's heart?"

Jun stares at him, and Izuku is pinned in place by his gaze. "Remind him that you're beautiful, brilliant, and fertile, and that he's not the only alpha in the world," he says. "If that doesn't work, then Bakugou is either a monk or he lost his knot somewhere while at war. But you also have your guide book. Don't forget that. It'd helped me in courting my wife. Just follow their tips and you'll surely tame your own alpha!"

Izuku nods his head eagerly as though he's sitting at the feet of a master. "I'll read it in bed every night," he promises.

Delighted, he leans over and pinches Izuku's cheek even though Jun is only a few years older than himself. "It's cute how earnest you are, but you don't have to go that far."

Izuku endures the sting on his cheek, knowing that's how Jun view everyone who's younger than him. Since the day Izuku stumbled upon Jun at their book club, he'd quickly took Izuku under his wings like he's newborn chick who still has yet to learn of the world, and suddenly Izuku had a teacher to help him navigate the twist and turns of the court and the world of the kazoku.

Jun is everything Izuku could ever hope for. Bold, quick-witted, and fierce, Jun is married to his childhood sweetheart with a stable relationship and two kids by their side. If Izuku can achieve ten percent of what Jun has, maybe he would be able to grab happiness for himself.

"I want what you and Momoe-san have," Izuku replies, thinking of their missed opportunities and lost time. "A happy and fulfilling marriage."

"Well," Jun's smile goes strain, "no marriage is perfect even the seemingly happy one, so learn to manage your expectation."

Izuku's brows furrow in confusion. "What do you mean? Is there a problem between you two?"

Jun purses his lip then lets out a heavy, world-weary sigh. "My wife is great. Amazing. I couldn't ask for anyone better but lately she been acting strange. Distance and secretive even."

Izuku's mouth pops open in an ah moment. "Is this about Momoe-san secretly meeting up with Seno Yasuko?”

Jun appears relieve. "You remember!" he says, reaching for Izuku's hand and clutching it in desperation. "I knew I can trust you."

"I try," he replies, smiling abashedly.

"When I brought it up to the other members of the club about my concern, they had dismissed it as paranoid on my part," Jun complains, dropping their clasped hands. "She's a beta and came from nothing so she was no threat to me, but I know there's something going on between them!"

Izuku recalls that particular day when Jun vented his fears to the club members during their weekly book club meeting and while most of them had laughed it off as an overactive imagination, Izuku had quietly sat there and listened. He listened well.

It proves to be beneficial in the end.

"If you need an ear, I don't mind lending it to you," he offers, letting concern leak through his voice.

"Oh, I couldn't," Jun says, touching the side of his face. "I don't want to occupied your entire time here with my marital issue. It wouldn't sit right with me as the host."

Izuku makes a show of looking around and sees how everyone else is either on the dance floor or congregate in a social circle where there's doesn't seem to be any room for him. "Do you think anyone would dare approach me now, knowing that I'm an enemy of Lady Onaga?" he muses.

Jun grimaces. "I'm sorry."

Unlike Jun, Izuku's family belongs to the merchant class therefore he has no personal title to his name even though they got the wealth behind them but for the kazoku purity of lineage is more important than the gold that lined their wallet. It's the prestige. In the same way that Jun can go toe to toe with Onaga and still saved face because he was born into the kazoku, even if his family was poor, they are still of someone of influence and his wife would fight to defend his honor, while Izuku's turbulent marriage to Katsuki is common knowledge.

Marrying into the Bakugou had given him everything—a title, connections and even more wealth—but not a spouse he can rely on. Even now he stands alone in this ballroom, absence of a husband because Katsuki doesn't have time or the patience for the petty squabbles of the kazoku.

"It's not your fault," Izuku says, offering up a reassuring smile. His lack of standing among the kazoku is his problem and nobody's else. "But you know what can make this night a little better?" He cocks his head. "Distract me with your company and tell me about your troubles."

Jun's face lights up as though he hits gold. "Only because you're so insistent," he says. It's all an act in the end as if they both aren't aware of Jun's famous loose tongue.

Izuku's smile widens. "I do." He makes a gesture for Jun to proceed and Jun happily complies.

Jun talks and talks for the rest of the time. He demonstrates why he's a masterful storyteller with exaggerated hand movements and facial expressions that accompanies his story, and Izuku does what he does best he listens, taking notes of everything that is said for later.

A servant boy suddenly approaches them. "My lord?" he nervously interrupts them. "I'm sorry, but the young miss wants you to tell her a bedtime story or she won't go to sleep."

Izuku stifles a laugh behind his sleeve as Jun just shakes his head and sighs exasperatedly.

"Children," he says, lips pursed, "they make you regret that you didn't pump and dump."

Izuku gasps, face immediately going up in flame and even the poor servant boy looks like he wants to sink into the floor by Jun's explicitness. "Jun-san, please!" he cries out, embarrassed.

"It's cute how innocent you still are." Jun chuckles. "Just wait until you have children of your own."

Izuku stiffens. "I guess we'll see, then," he says, his voice betraying nothing, not the disturbance in his heart, and the knowledge that maybe it'll never happen for him.

Not sensing anything wrong with Izuku, Jun says, "I'm going to attend to my princess then but," he frowns, "I can't leave you all alone here."

Izuku waves him off. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me, just go see your daughter."

"Absolutely not!" He shakes his head furiously. "That would not only make me a bad host but a terrible friend too."

For which Izuku finds himself extremely grateful for because he has associates and people that he knows well thanks to Katsuki and the Bakugou's name, but friends whom he’d found for himself are rare. Precious.

"Well, I may have an idea," Jun continues, scratching his chin in thought. "This just might work." He turns toward the servant boy. "Get my brother for me."

"Yes, my lord," the servant quickly says as though he can't escape from here any faster, leaving Izuku in befuddlement.

"Your brother?" Izuku asks. He doesn't know why the subject suddenly changed to Jun's infamous younger brother.

Jun winks at him. "You'll see in a moment." And it doesn't take long before Izuku get his answer in the form of Mitou Shun.

"What is it, nii-san?" Shun grumbles.

Broad in shoulders, tall, and sharing similar facial features, Shun could be Jun's twin. Their only difference is that Shun's scent is uniquely alpha.

"This is my friend, Izuku-chan, and I want you to keep him company while I take care of Kimiko for a bit," Jun explains. Then he shifts his focus to Izuku. "Don't worry, my brother may look untrustworthy but he won't make a move on you."

Shun bristles. "I could, you know."

Jun roll his eyes. "You can't because he's married." He pauses. "To the younger Bakugou."

"What?!" Shun shouts in horror.

He hurriedly takes a step back from Izuku. "You're married to that asshole?!"

Jun gives Shun a look of utter disappointment. "My brother was such an unruly child that Bakugou used to beat him up in the school yard to teach him a lesson and ever since then he developed trauma of it," he tells Izuku.

"Don't expose my horrid past to your friend," Shun whines.

"Then don't do stupid things when you were kid.” Jun scoffs.

Their easy and comfortable siblings' banter makes Izuku's heart ache for Kouta back home. He wonders how his brother is doing and if his parents are well. Sometimes he can’t help missing home and wishes that he could go. 

"Kacchan isn't here right now, don't worry," Izuku assures Shun.

Shun looks at him dubiously. "I don't think he would like another alpha to stand close to not only his husband but also his omega."

Izuku smiles self-deprecatingly. "Trust me, he wouldn't care even if he was here."

Jun looks at him pitifully. "Oh, Izuku-chan." He raises a fist up. "I'll punch him the next time I see the bastard."

"Can you not embarrass me for a moment?" Shun complains with the air of a long-suffering younger sibling.

Jun snorts derisively. "You're the embarrassing one!"

"I'm doing you a favor here," Shun points out, looking defiant. "I can leave at any moment."

Jun does not look worry by the threat. "Then I'll just cut your allowance next month."

All that bravery quickly crumbles. "I'm so sorry, nii-san. I am but your faithful servant," Shun pleads.

Appearing please at having won the upper hand again, Jun turns to Izuku. "My stupid brother," Shun lets out cry of offense at that while Jun remains unbothered, "will stay with you and keep any creepy alphas away till I come back, so use him however you like," he says.

"It's really unnecessary, but thank you, Jun-san," Izuku says, knowing that Jun won't be deterred even if he keeps on refusing.

"All right, I'll be going then," Jun declares with a clap of his hands. “Stay out of trouble," he says. Weirdly this was directed at Izuku instead. “Oh, and thanks for coming with me this Thursday! I appreciate it.”

Jun is the second person who said this to him tonight. Izuku had never caused any trouble in his life, so he doesn't know why Katsuki and Jun of all people would ever think that of him. It's truly vexing!

“Oh, and thanks for coming with me this Thursday! I appreciate it, Izuku-chan,” he continues with a wink. And with that Jun makes his exit, leaving Izuku alone with his brother.

What remains is the awkwardness of two strangers who only sole connection is the person who had just left them. The two of them neither express any interest in feign pleasantries, so they happily stand together in silence for a while. It's something Izuku is keenly familiar with, but Shun has a better idea.

"Would you care to dance while we wait for my brother, Izuku-sama?" At Izuku's surprised look, Shun scratches his cheek sheepishly. "Wait, don't get me wrong! You seem like a way too nice of a person to be friends with my brother but I'm really not interest in you like that."

Izuku's eyes crinkles. "I'm fully aware that your heart is already taken by someone," he says. "A lady by the name of Tsuda Suzume, but it's too bad that she's married."

"H-how did you know?!" He leans in and drops his voice to a whisper. "Even my brother doesn't know it."

Izuku just smiles. "I have my ways." When you're a wallpaper nobody take notice of you sitting in the background as you listened and the learned of the seedy secrets and dramas that inhabit the world of the kazoku. It also helps that Tsuda's cousin is a part of his book club.

"Please, please don't tell nii-sama," Shun pleads to him, looking on the edge of desperation like Izuku has him hanging over the cliff by a thread. "He would absolutely kill me."

Izuku pats his shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry, I'm not one to spread other people's secrets."

"You’re so much kinder than my brother! So if you ever need anything in the future let me know, especially if you want a divorce. I know a good lawyer," Shun says, pulling back with relieve in his eyes. "You're just way too good for that asshole Bakugou."

Izuku tries hard not to laugh. "That won't be necessary, but thank you."

"If you say so," he says dubiously. He extends his hand toward Izuku. "Then shall we dance, Izuku-sama?"

Amused, Izuku takes his hand and just as they about to head off to the floor a familiar growl disrupts them. "What the fuck are you doing with my husband?!" Katsuki demands. His face is thunderous like the blacken clouds that ominously rolls in and covers the entire sky. It's a scary sight to witness.

Shun immediately drops their held hand as though it burns and swiftly hides behind him. This tall, lanky alpha, who easily dwarfs Izuku, feels genuine fear. "B-Bakugou, I s-swear I'm not doing a-anything." He holds both palms up in the air to show that he’s harmless.

"Kacchan, what are you doing here?" Izuku says, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. He's surprised but not afraid, unlike Shun who is quick to use him as shield.

Katsuki's temper is well known; it rises like a storm and overtakes everything in its path, leaving behind destruction in its wake, but Izuku has never fear it, never fear him because just like a storm it'll eventually pass. Izuku had learned to buckle down and ride it out. The day Izuku feel genuine fear toward Katsuki is the day he'll cut all ties between them and walk out. This is the promise that he made to himself when he chose to go back to Tokyo with Katsuki. Everybody has a bottom line and this is his; he hopes that Katsuki never reach it.

"I'm done with my personal matters so I went out to look for you and this is what I found instead," Katsuki tells Izuku, but directs the full force of his glare at Shun. "And who the fuck are you?"

"Huh?" Shun points to himself in disbelief. "Are you kidding me Bakugou? You know me!"

Katsuki frowns, unconvinced.

"We went to school together!" he says.

Katsuki's frown deepens.

"We were even in the same class!" he insists. "You even beat me up!"

Annoyed now, Katsuki spits out, "I used to fight with a lot of kids, so how the fuck would I know who you are?"

At this point Shun had dragged himself out from behind Izuku with each aggravating exchange and seems to find his courage again. Throwing his hand up in the air in frustration, he declares, "Whatever, I don't care anymore. You're the worst and that unfortunately hasn't change."

Unperturbed, like this is something he'd been told a hundred times before, Katsuki says blandly, "I still don't know who the hell you are but if you're still this annoying at this age, you most definitely deserve to be beaten up by me in the past."

Shun's jaw drops in outrage. "Y-you, you ass—" he sputters, then bites the rest of his sentence as Katsuki gives him as look that pretty much spell out what would happen to him if Shun to finish his insult. If he dare to anyway. "Fine, fine. I'm leaving then! I'm clearly not needed here anymore and I just can't stand you, Bakugou!" But before that, Shun bends down and whispers in Izuku’s ear. "Divorce him, please," he begs. "Even better if you ever want to commit murder, I'll help you."

"Thanks for the offer," Izuku says, humoring the poor man. He shouldn't find this funny, but laughter bubbles in his chest.

He quickly covers his mouth before it burst out and he loses his composure as Shun quickly makes his departure.

"What the fuck is wrong that guy?" Katsuki demands, confused still and that's enough to tip Izuku over the edge as laughter spills from his lips and wrecks his body.

Katsuki helplessly watches as Izuku loses himself to the laughter, drawing attention from the people around them, but for the first time in a while, Izuku doesn't care.

"S-Sorry," Izuku says, trying to collect himself back up again, but he just can't keep the grin off his face. “Do you really not know him?”

Katsuki scowls. "Why would I make up that kind of shitty lie for?"

"Right," Izuku says, lips twitching. "His name is Mitou Shun, the Countess of Utaupau's younger brother, which makes him the Earl's, your subject of interest, brother-in-law."

Katsuki frowns, brows furrowing. "That name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't put a face to it."

Izuku tucks a smile behind his sleeve. "I see," he says. "It's alright, Shun-sama won't take it personal at all."

Katsuki narrow his eyes at him. "You're making fun of me."

It's accusatory, but he doesn't sound mad about it.

"I'm just amazed how you're so brilliant and capable yet you don't bother to pay attention to anything outside of your purview. It's quite remarkable how selective you can be," Izuku says dryly, finding himself bitter for some reason.

"Wait," Katsuki shakes his head in disbelief, "are you angry at me right now because I don't know who that fucker is when it been years since I last saw him and whom I probably barely interact with in the past?!"

Well, when he put it like that, it seems like an overreaction on his heart. Blushing, Izuku drops his face into his hands. "I-I guess," he mumbles.

For a brief moment, it'd consumed him when the thought if Katsuki hadn't need to bring him back to Tokyo to appease Mitsuki would he too have forgotten about Izuku years later and wouldn't be able to recognize him either like Shun? He doesn't want to be just an accessory in Katsuki's life.

He gingerly drops his hands to his side. "I'm sorry," he says, lowering his head in apology. "I don't know what got into me." That may be a possibility of it in another world, but to judge Katsuki for something that never happen is unfair. Katsuki deserves better than that at least.

"It's," Katsuki clicks his tongue, "whatever. I don't care. You apologize too much."

Izuku smiles crookedly. "I'm aware."

"You—" Katsuki stops then shakes his head. "Mitou didn't do anything inappropriate to you, right?" he presses. "I thought he was harassing you earlier."

"No, no, he was just keeping me company for bit," he quickly assures him. "Jun-san was worry I'll be alone so he sent his Shun-sama to me."

Katsuki purses his lips. "Did no one else approach you this whole night?"

Izuku shakes his head. "No," he says, slightly embarrassed. He doesn't feel ashamed when he's reminded of his place, but in front of Katsuki it's like exposing the cracks in his wall.

"I thought you would have several people on your dance card by now," Katsuki says suddenly.

Izuku jerks up in surprise. "Why would you think that?"

Katsuki looks away, and for a second Izuku swears he thought he saw a hint of redness on his ears. "You're—" He gestures wildly at Izuku's person. "You clearly know what you look like," he snaps. "So why wouldn't they want to dance with you? They would be fucking blind not to."

"Oh," Izuku says, his head completely blanking out for a moment before it comes to a conclusion: "You think I look good?!"

"T-that's not what I said," Katsuki starts, then clears his throat awkwardly. "Well, maybe yes, but that's not the point!" He holds his hand out toward him. "You wanted to dance, right?"

Izuku actually didn't. It was Shun who suggested it and he was just following along, but looking at Katsuki's akward attempt to ask him for a dance, he's hopelessly endeared.

He places a hand in Katsuki's palm. "Gently, please," he says, giving himself and his heart over to Katsuki's care. He wonders if one day Katsuki look back at this moment will understand the underlying meaning of those words.

Katsuki leads him out to the dance floor, where all eyes zeroes in on them like a spotlight and this is their stage. Except Izuku has never been a star, even if he feels like he has been putting an act since the moment he stepped foot in Tokyo; the many faces of Midoriya Izuku that he wore for the world to see. Sometimes, when he let himself think about, he ponders which is the real him underneath.

With all the stares aim at them, a bout of shyness hits him that has him feeling exposed and raw, even though he'd long been used to these scrutinizing gazes, but this is the first time he has Katsuki with him. It's scary. It has him hyperaware of every moment because one wrong move and Katsuki will fall alongside him.

His hand is suddenly squeezed, and his attention is briefly drawn away by the sullen face of a man who looks like he would rather be anywhere but here. "Ignore them," Katsuki says, not even glancing back at him, but he's still holding his hand tightly. "They're just background noise."

"I know," Izuku says, even as anxiety twists his stomach.

He snorts. "Then stop paying attention to them."

Izuku presses his lips together, momentarily closes his eyes, and breathes out. He lets go of his worry and focuses on the present and warmth of Katsuki's hand. "Okay."

The demons inside his head quiets down and he can't feel the gaze of the people around him anymore. It doesn't matter anyway; they can't touch him. He's going to enjoy this dance with his spouse like every normal couple out there. Just this once he can pretend, they're just like them.

They pull to a stop to empty space, unoccupied by no other dancing partners, as though it was made for them. In reality, people had cleared away just so they can avoid Katsuki's fraying temper as he had sent a menacing glare at everyone who had dared to approach them earlier. Luckily, they had arrived just in time as the current dance comes to an end.

In a corner of the room and on a raised platform, the conductor signals the chamber orchestra to play the new song and what is chosen next causes a commotion throughout the entire hall.

It's a waltz song.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he catches sight of blurred of red next to the conductor. Izuku squints, examines it closer and sees it's Jun on the sideline, waving at him encouragingly and with a saucy wink. It doesn't take much of a genius to figure out that Jun orchestrated this entire fiasco.

Some of the older couples on the floor quickly departs as a rush of incoming younger pairs arrive on the floor in their stead. Though the waltz been established for several years now, it's still perceived as too scandalous by many but the younger crowd loves that kind incitement.

Izuku considers exiting too, but Katsuki's grip on him keeps him in place. "Do you know the steps?" he asks, startling Izuku with his question.

"Yes," he nods his head reluctantly, "but you really still want to dance?" 

Katsuki roll his eyes. "We're already here, so why not?"

Izuku opens his mouth to protest but quickly shuts it, knowing it's pointless to argue. Instead, he redirects the subject hoping it's enough to distract Katsuki: "You know how to waltz?" It didn't seem to be his thing anyway. He can't imagine Katsuki willingly take dance lessons.

"My mother—" Katsuki makes a face before correcting himself, "Your mother-in-law enjoys tormenting me, so growing up she would force me to learn ballroom dancing, because she didn't raise an ill-mannered boor who doesn't even know how to dance as she would love to tell me."

"I didn't know about this," Izuku murmurs. "You never told me any of it when you'd visited me during the summers." He'd thought he knew the real Katsuki during the two months they were allowed to spend together, where they had shared secrets and made promises to each other.

Katsuki coughs into his hand. "It wasn't important enough to warrant a conversation," he says, as though trying to comfort Izuku. "It's all in the past anyway." Then he gives Izuku a look. "And how do you know the waltz?"

"Bridal training," Izuku answers distractedly.

To prepare him to become the future Countess of Aldera, Izuku since young had all kind of lessons drilled into him just so he could support and stand beside Katsuki with his head held high in society one day. These lessons had included managing finance, basic etiquette, and of course dancing to name a few. Izuku is equipped to deal with all sort of things, but it’s not something that Katsuki would need from him. His skillset is practical but useless for Katsuki since they’re limited to household and society’s affairs.

Katsuki frowns, staring at Izuku like he got a second head on his shoulder.

"What?" Izuku demands, playing with his sleeve nervously under the scrutiny.

He sighs, holding both arms out in the proper closed hold in the starting position of the waltz. "Let's just dance."

Promptly, Izuku drops into place, his right hand entangling in Katsuki's own and his left falls on Katsuki's upper arm as Katsuki swoops his left hand toward his shoulder blade. So it begins, with the flow of the music surging them forward, they move as one across the floor. It’s the first time that Izuku feels that they’re this connected and united.

Izuku carefully counts the steps in his head as he watches their feet movement, trying not to misstep and embarrassed himself. He knows it by heart and had danced it previously, but something about facing Katsuki this close that makes him strangely nervous. With their hands on each other and they're face to face now, Izuku could feel the warmth of Katsuki's palm against his own, his left hand splayed across his back like something possessive and his hot breath breathing down on Izuku's cheek.

It's way too close. It's incendiary.

"Stop looking at your feet," Katsuki hisses after Izuku nearly side stepped them into another couple. "You said you know the dance."

"I do," he insists, unable to hide the sulk in his voice. It's not even his fault and just as he thinks this, he steps right onto Katsuki's boot.

In the midst of inevitable emotional break down, Izuku pleads to Katsuki's boots, "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that."

"Deku," Katsuki grits out above him, "look at me instead of your fucking two left feet."

Heart racing, he slowly lifts his gaze and meets Katsuki's fierce glare.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Katsuki demands.

"N-nothing." Katsuki's glare deepens so Izuku hurriedly corrects himself, "You just make me nervous!"

"How?" he seethes. "You practically see me every day."

"But we never dance like this! Not even at our wedding," Izuku defends. "It's far too intimate!"

Katsuki stares at him in disbelief. "You forced your way into my bed like every night, and now you have the audacity to act all shy over this?"

Blushing, Izuku protests, "That's completely different! We slept on different side and didn't even touch.” Even when he was at his boldest, pushing his way into Katsuki's bed like they hadn't spent five years apart, he hadn't dare to be this close to Katsuki.

"Have you always been this brand of crazy and I just never noticed until now?" Katsuki gives him the most unimpressed stare down.

"But we're in public right now! What if people think we're being inappropriate?" The idea itself is enough to terrified Izuku.

"We're married," Katsuki says dryly. "So why can't I touch you?" As if to make his point, his left-hand slides down to Izuku's waist and holds it there.

Frantically, Izuku drops his hand from Katsuki's upper arm and reaches for the straying hand to put it back to where it belongs. "What are you doing?!" he demands. His heart was just about to collapse. When did Katsuki become the one to instigate this kind of things between them?

“You overthink things too much," Katsuki says, sneering. "Look where we are, when you're not stuck in your own head the entire time."

Finally, he notices that they're already circled the floor without any further incidence because he was too busy arguing with Katsuki. "Ah."

He was so caught up in his fight with Katsuki that he didn't have time to pay attention to his footwork or to the count the steps in his head, but somehow, they didn't collide with anyone else. And it was enough to pull his attention away from sinking into the pit of his own anxiety.

What's even more shocking is the realization that Katsuki was the one who dragged him out of it. "Did you provoke me on purpose to distract me?" he asks, unable to keep the growing smile off of his face.

"You were being an idiot," Katsuki scoffs, which didn't answer Izuku's question completely.

Yet Izuku already know the answer just by the tone of Katsuki's voice. It didn't have the expected sharp bite to it whenever he insults someone; he'd sounded suspiciously softer than usual.

Izuku's grin grows wider till he can feel it stretching painfully across his face. "Thank you," he says.

The heaviness in his heart lightens with each step they take across the floor. He no longer feels weighed down by his earlier fears and worries, and his smile could not be stopped even as he wants to hide the palpable happiness leaking through.

Katsuki is seemingly taken back momentarily by his overflowing bubbliness. The hand on Izuku's shoulder blade balls into a fist, bunching the fabric of Izuku's kimono in his palm and the line of his arms tense. His lips purse. "Do you carelessly smile like that for anybody?"

Izuku blinks. "No?"

Katsuki frowns. "Is that a supposed to be a question?"

"I—" Confused, he racks his brain for an answer. "But I smile all the time."

Katsuki shakes his head. "No, not like that you do." He looks a way for a bit as though he needed a moment to gather himself first. "You were full on smiling at that bean pole earlier."

It doesn't take much for him to connect the person in question. "But I was laughing at Shun-sama!" Then, quietly, he adds, "He was pretty funny."

"You," Katsuki starts, annoyance clear in his voice, "don't get friendly with weird alpha."

"He's Jun-san's brother though," he defends snappishly, he doesn’t know what brought this on in Katsuki. "I'm not going to avoid him just because you don't like him for whatever petty reason!"

So shocked by his words that Katsuki nearly lead them into another couple in what could have been an ugly collision. Izuku hasty apologizes to the pair as Katsuki gathers his bearing once more.

After tonight, nobody would ever think that they are any good at dancing, not after their numerous stumbles and near missed that they had. Izuku could feel the sheer horror setting in if this make it in the next society's paper that the Earl and Countess of Aldera are bad dancers. It would be terrible.

"Get that shitty look off of your face," Katsuki says, moving them back into position as though they didn't embarrass themselves in front of the whole dance floor and crowd. "We're fine."

They’re really not. "Kacchan, you should watch where you're going next time!" he scolds, annoyed now. "That could have ended much worst."

Aggrieved, Katsuki snaps, "It was your fault to begin with, throwing around accusations that aren't true." He slows them down and makes a show of scanning the hall as though looking for someone. "Actually, it's the older Mitou's fault."

"He's a Fuji now," Izuku corrects. "And what's wrong with Jun-san?" It's like Katsuki got a bone to pick with both brothers. For someone who said he doesn't pay attention to unnecessary people, Katsuki seems to be holding quite a grudge against people he can't be bother with.

"He's putting dumb things in your head," Katsuki says, looking peeved. "I got cornered by him earlier as I was leaving the salon and he told me some bullshit about you believing that I abandoned you tonight to the wolves."

"Ah," Izuku says, flatly. "That's interesting."

"The man is so condescending, talking down on people like they're children and that he knows better than them," Katsuki continues, fully committed into his rant now. "He should learn to mind his own fucking business."

Izuku smiles coldly. "I think you should choose your next words wisely, my lord. I'm fully aware of Jun-san's flaws but he only interfere because he cares and sometimes that doesn't always end up well. It doesn't make him a bad person though, just someone capable of messing up like everyone else," he says. If Izuku ever felt it was truly necessary, he would have put his foot down and establish proper boundaries with Jun. "So you can dislike him, but he's my friend and I hope you can remember that next time."

Katsuki stares at him as silence awkwardly descends upon them. It's not the first time that they fiercely butt head but to fight in public and while holding onto each other is very much new for either of them.

After a minute of Katsuki not talking, he wonders if he went too far and should he apologize for his brusque tone? He meant every word he said but his poor delivery left a sour taste in his mouth. Neither of them likes to back down, but Izuku doesn't like leave them stewing a state of awkwardness.

"Okay," Katsuki says, finally breaking their stilted silence, "I can respect that."

Which leaves Izuku in near shocked, because while it's not a full-blown apology but Katsuki actually made an effort toward reconciliation and doesn't even make a big fuss about it either this time.

"That's it?" he presses. There got to be more to this right?

Katsuki clicks in his tongue in annoyance. "What the fuck else do you want from me? I'm not going to be friends with him but I'll hold back the urge of attempt murder next time we interact," he says, rolling his eyes.

Honestly, Izuku doesn't even know what he's expecting but definitely not this. It's admittedly not a bad outcome, just surprising that Katsuki would try to compromise here. What if it's force though? He hesitates, then, "You don't have to push yourself to please me," he says.

"I’m not. I just I don’t know if I can ever get along with him," Katsuki grunts, like the words alone leave a bad taste in his mouth, "but I can put with it since it's important to you so it's important to me too."

In that moment, Izuku can almost see the potential of their future together. It's rough and barely tangible, but it's there, starting to slowly take shape for the first time since he'd arrived in Tokyo. There's hope yet in keeping their marriage alive.  

Katsuki deserves a reward for it. His guidebook said that it would encourages further good behavior in the future. He was planning to talk to Katsuki about his findings later when they're at home, but this feels like a good time as any considering their subject in question.

"I think you should put up with it just little more since Jun-san is married to your target," Izuku point out in case Katsuki had forgotten.

"There's no point." He scowls, irritated. "The entire time we were in the salon, Fuji Momoe was brisk and uninterested in what I had to say. I couldn't even get a single read off of her. She was completely closed off even around other people. This entire trip is a fucking waste of my time. I hate intelligence gathering mission."

Izuku raises a brow. "You know earlier, Jun-san was telling me how he believes Momoe-san is cheating on him because she has been spending more time with her new assistant from work. They even have secret meetings and exchanged several love letters. Jun-san claimed to have never seen Momoe-san like this before. It's really strange, because I met Momoe-san before and I noticed that no matter the time or how inconvenience she is, she always make an effort to pick and drop Jun-san off at our book club,” he says pensively. “She may appear cold and standoffish to others, but she adores Jun-san and spoils him ridiculously."

Jun and Momoe's love is the kind he sees in Katsuki's and his own parents. It's steadfast devotion that bind them. He doesn’t doubt his eyes.

Impatiently, Katsuki lowers the hand on Izuku's back and pinches his waist. "Get to your point already," he snaps. "I'm not interest in other people marital dispute and idle gossip."

Just for that he steps on Katsuki's boot with his zori. "I'm sorry," he says, offering up a sheepish smile that Katsuki 100% does not buy into. "How clumsy of me."

"You little shit," he hisses, and before he could prolong their childish antics further the music comes to an abrupt end.

Izuku uses this chance to break from Katsuki's hold. He bows his head. "Thank you for the dance, my lord," he says, and hastily makes his departure before Katsuki can even get a word in otherwise.

He heads off to a private suite that Jun had mentioned is reversed for guests in need of some ‘quiet time’ and doesn't even bother to look back to see if Katsuki is following right behind him. He definitely is, Izuku has no doubt about it.

As soon as he arrives at the destination, he opens the door to the suite, revealing a small room with a loveseat and a coffee table, and simple but clean decorations lining the entire room. He takes a seat and then he waits. It isn't long before Katsuki bursts in, heaving and looking quite murderous as Izuku pats down the skirt of his kimono, unfazed by the violent intrusion.

"You fucker," he starts, stomping his way in like a bull waving his horns menacingly as the door slams close behind him. "Do you think I would go easy on you just because we're married?!" Standing in front of Izuku, Katsuki easily looms over him.

Unfazed, Izuku cocks his head. "Don't you want to hear the rest of story?"

Katsuki flatten his lips, unimpressed but he looks like he’s considering it. "Fine, convince me then."

"Well,” Izuku begins, barely able to contain his excitement now, “when did the weapons first started to go missing in the army?”

Katsuki's brows furrow. Confused, but still he answers anyway: "About two month ago."

"Hm," Izuku contemplates, "interestingly, Seno-san also appeared in front of the Fuji around the same period.” He folds his hands on his lap. "Now, this is just a theory, but I don't believe a person's feeling that had took years to developed can changed so easily. Momoe-san wouldn't just fall out of love with Jun-san so quickly just because of some random woman he’d met two months ago."

Katsuki looks skeptical. "People can change." He pauses. "People have changed. Just as marriage break down. Couples fall out of love. There's no such thing as guarantee even for childhood sweethearts."

It sounds self-defeating. An inevitability that all things come to an end.

And it cuts right into the heart of his and Katsuki's relationship, but even with all the visible cracks in their marriage Izuku remains hopeful. All cracks can be mend with time and effort. As long as he believes it's worth it, Izuku won't just give up half-way. He's committed.

Like how he also believes Momoe and Jun are fully committed to each other too.

Izuku shakes his head. "But you don't know Momoe-san. She's a creature of old habit. Jun-san once told me that she still used her favorite mug from childhood and that he's her first and last love once she made her mind up on him. Momoe-san likes her routine and rarely ever deviate from it, but since the introduction of Seno-san she been acting strangely not just around Jun-san but in the way she handles her business and people. It's not her feeling that changed, but something else that may have influenced her."

Katsuki's face is tight and grim. "But you don't know for sure."

"Yes, it's all a theory," Izuku acquiesces, he’s just connecting the dots that maybe not even there in the first place, "but I believe there's something effecting her and it's definitely related to Seno-san. In my opinion, it's not infidelity, but it's linked to your missing weapons. Seno-san has control over the majority of Momoe-san's business even though she has no right to be and curiously her background is a blank page from what I have heard. So your target shouldn't be Momoe-san, but rather Seno Yasuko instead.”

"And where do you get all these informations?" he probes, dubious still.

"From my book club of course," Izuku scoffs as though it's plainly obvious.

"I thought you only go there to drink tea and read books there!" Katsuki scrunches his face in annoyance.

"We do," Izuku nods, "but we also talk. We talk a lot. You’ll be surprise how many important and interesting information exchanged hands there."

Their book club is an actual book club, but it's also a social hub where many of the wives and husbands of influential men and women of power and wealth congregate to gossip and seek advice from each other. So many secrets are traded and spread among them. It's their currency.

Katsuki sighs, shaking his head as though Izuku exists to aggravate him. "How much do you believe in your 'theory'?"

Izuku sits up and looks at him seriously. "Just as much faith as you have in your gun not failing you, because you know you personally maintain it every day." He puts a hand over his heart. "I trust in my ability to read people and I wholeheartedly believe Momoe-san would never cheat on Jun-san," he says, "so that only leave Seno-san. It got to be her."

Katsuki runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he paces back and forth. "What you're basically saying is I should overthrow weeks of intelligence work on this case from people who have years of experience on this and believe you instead even though you have no concrete evidence to back it up except hearsay and your intuition." He huffs.

Izuku drops his gaze to his lap. "I know," he says quietly. When putting it like that, his theory does sounds like a mad conspiracy.

Why should Katsuki believe him over the people he works with on a professional capacity? He's a simple househusband who goes out and attend his book clubs, yet he trusts in his instinct. He just needs Katsuki to trust it too, which is nigh impos—

"Alright, let's just say it's true what should we do then?" Katsuki asks suddenly.

Izuku's head jerks up in shock, jaw slacked. "Wait, you actually believe me?!"

"Insane as it is," Katsuki heaves a sigh before finally settling on, "but yes, I believe you." He walks over to Izuku's side and sits down next to him.

Holding a hand out, Izuku says, "G-Give me a moment."

He leans over to the opposite side of Katsuki and covers his face, hiding a profound grin and letting out a muffled, excited squeal. For once, Izuku has proven himself he can be of use to Katsuki. It's invigorating. He knows he's lacking, but being a wallflower pays off in the end. He can't fight or wield a gun; he also isn't particularly witty or charming, but Izuku knows how to sit quietly and listen. Listening and watching people is as natural as breathing for him now because he could pick up so much things just by taking notes and paying attention.

It's not anything particularly flashy and Izuku even hesitate to call it a skillset, but it helped him immensely in navigating the murky waters of the kazoku even without anyone on his side. It's a survival skill in the end for him because he needs it to keep himself afloat here.

So to see all his hard work finally able to bear fruit. He's able to partake in Katsuki's job and help him out is the most fulfilling thing. He wants to scream in joy.

"Are you done?" Katsuki asks. The words are curt as expected but his tone is unusually soft and patience for him.

Izuku gathers himself up again, dropping his arms to the side and straightening up once more. He composes himself into the proper and prim image of a countess like he hadn't break protocol and behaved so childishly in front of his husband. It's embarrassing, but it feels good.

Izuku clears his throat. "Well, to answer your earlier question, I think you should 'visit' Momoe-san's office in Shibuya while Jun-san and I stake out her meeting with Seno-san this upcoming Thursday. The letters exchanged between them are tucked away in a secret compartment so you can go there and find it. I think if you can decode their letters, it may provide the information you need and—"

"Wait, stake out?" Katsuki pinches the center of his brows. "Hold up, nobody said anything about that!"

"But I promise Jun-san that I would help him tailed Momoe-san," Izuku says, sulking. "I can't disappoint my friend! He needs me there for the emotional support. If I bail out on him, he would be so disappointed in me." He looks at Katsuki in the eyes helplessly, lips wobbling.  "Do you really want that for me?"

Katsuki drags a hand down his face, aggrieved. "Fine,” he snaps, “but what this about a secret compartment then?"

"Oh, yes, it's hidden away in a bookcase," Izuku says eagerly, “as a book called 'the Lotus Eater', but it's a fake. When you open it, there's actually box hidden inside. You can unlock it using a key concealed under a plotted plant."

Katsuki frowns, looking at him suspiciously. "And how do you know all this?"

"Jun-san told me that it's one of Momoe-san's old hiding places," Izuku recalls one of their many talks. "He'd stumbled upon the letters a few weeks ago but he couldn't understand them. He thought they were some weird love poems instead."

"Deku—" Katsuki bites down the rest of the sentence as Izuku looks at him excitedly. "Fine," he says instead, "I don't know if it'll lead to anywhere, but I'll check it out."

Izuku perks up. "T-that's great! I'm happy that you would follow through with my theory. I-it's nice.” He ducks his head, face red as he shifts nervously in his seat. "So, did I do good then? Was I any help to you today?" He desperately wants to hear those word said out loud, so it’ll feel more real.

Silence. Then, just as Izuku about to take back his words in embarrassment he hears: "Yea," Katsuki says, low but firm, "you did well." Warmth radiating with each word.

Chapter Text

"What is the emperor doing right now?" Izuku asks, holding his head still as Eiko pins a bira-bira kanzhaki into his hair. It dangles from the side of his head in several long-beaded strands.

"He should be dining with Grand Marshal Bakugou at the moment," Eiko informs him. “They always have break fast together if His Majesty’s schedule allows it.”

Izuku pauses, considering. "When do you think is a good time for me to see him today?" he asks.

"I have been told that he'll be busy meeting with the ministers for the rest of the day, but I'm sure His Majesty would be happy to make time for you this morning, Deku-sama," she insists.

Izuku frowns. "I wouldn't want to disturb the marshal's time with the emperor."

"I don't believe it’ll be issue since you are after all His Majesty's most favored concubine and Marshal Bakugou is your patron." Eiko's hand carefully tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear and grins at him through the reflection of the mirror. "Oh, Deku-sama, you are just so lucky! The emperor only ever requested you to his chamber and even gifted you your own palace. I've never seen him so smitten," she gushes. "And the marshal would often make time to visit you even though in the past he'd avoided getting involve in the harem entirely."

Ever since the emperor had conferred the title of Hin to Izuku, the inner palace had been in an uproar over him. A person of unknown origin brought back by Marshal Bakugou in his conquest had swooped in and stolen the emperor's favor. It was absurd. Ludicrous. A fairy tale romance, they had whispered among themselves.

Izuku was carefully chosen by the marshal as a gift to the emperor. He was exotic and new to the imperial seat from a faraway land that most don’t even know the name of. The emperor had taken one look at him and as they say it, it was history. He was completely spellbound by Izuku even though Bakugou had lay claimed to him first. Two of the most powerful men in the empire completely bewitched by him.

Eiko, young and impressionable that she is, had thought it was a beautiful dream come true, but Izuku doesn't have the heart to break it to her that the truth is much more muted and bitter. "Yes, I'm quite fortunate," Izuku replies with a smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

She claps her hands excitedly. "Since you'll be visiting the emperor’s palace and the marshal will also be there, you're going to have look your best to make a good impression, Deku-sama."

"Is that so?" Izuku muses, cocking his head thoughtfully. "Is my appearance normally not good enough then?"

Eiko freezes as though it finally dawns on her what she just said. Her eyes widen as she frantically scrambles to take back her earlier words: "Uh, n-no, of course not! That isn't what I meant at all Deku-sama! You know, you're always perfect to me. My lord is the best," she insists.

Izuku heaves a tired sigh. "Do you really think so?" he asks, looking doubtful as he casts a glance at mirror in front of him.

She nods her head eagerly. "Yes! Your eyes are a shade of evergreen we don't usually see around here. It reminds me of jade actually. It's so pretty!"

Izuku's lip twitches. "Do tell me more."

"Y-your hair is just so wavy and perfect, it’s just the right shape and—" she starts, plying on more compliments as he suddenly breaks out in laughter, causing Eiko to stop once she finally caught on. "Oh jeez," she whines, "please don't tease me like that, Deku-sama!"

Collecting himself once more, he says, "I'm sorry, I promise I'll be good."

Eiko's cheeks puff up in a sulky pout. "You say that every time, you liar," she accuses.

Without a drop of shame, Izuku leans over and pinches her cheek. "It's because you're so fun to mess with."

Eiko's pout deepen as he draws his hand back with a placating smile. "Alright, alright, I'm at your mercy now. You may dress me up however you wish as compensation for it."

Whatever annoyance she felt earlier quickly dissipate as her eyes light up excitedly. "You mean it?"

At Izuku's nod, she immediately springs into action in a flurry of activities. "I think I just have perfect thing for you. Do you remember that turquoise robe you got earlier? Oh, it would go so well with your beautiful hair and eyes. You'll be so stunning, Deku-sama!"

Izuku looks on with amusement as Eiko riffles through the trunks of his wardrobe with a ferocity that is unmatched, murmuring under her breath about the specific shade she's looking for and how it should match with the texture of his hair as she goes along.

It's all very hectic and performative, but he doesn't hate it.

Ripped from his mother's arms as a child just to be sold to his second master, Izuku has little memory of what a family is let alone know what it like is to watch over a younger sibling. Maybe this is what it must feel like to have a sister: terribly exhausting, but endlessly fond.

In the entirety of Imperial City and with its 20,000 living souls, Izuku had always felt so alone and set adrift in his own company. A stranger in a strange land. He was an island onto himself, left deserted and barren, until he found Eiko. Or is it that Eiko had found him instead?

When all of this is said and done with and Izuku is but a footnote in the history books, he hopes to be able to settle somewhere far away from Imperial City with Eiko one day, where nobody will know their name or who they were previously, just that they exist and that they were once there.

It's a nice little dream.

But first he has to endure the many hidden knives pointing at him in this place. One wrong move and it won't be just his head on the line but also Eiko’s. Izuku's life means nothing to him but Eiko is innocent. She deserves to live long enough to see her future grandchildren grow up.

He'll make sure of it.

"What do you think, Deku-sama?" In Eiko's hands is a blue-green dressrobe made of the finest of silk with delicate gold stitching. It came in a procession of ornate gifts from the emperor when Izuku was given the title of Hin. Expensive and demonstrative.

Just like him.

Izuku reaches out and palms over the soft silk between his fingers. "It's lovely." But unlike him it's worth it weight in gold.

Eiko perks up. "I knew you would like it," she says with a grin. "But I bet it look better on you, so allow me, Deku-sama."

Izuku feels the corner of his lips tugging upward as he acquiesces, letting her to do as she pleases.

Eiko places the dressrobe aside before her quick hands goes to undo his inner robe from his person, untying it and dropping it into the seat of a chair with the rest of the pile.

Then she holds the new dressrobe up and he steps into it, one sleeve at a time till it fully wraps itself around his body. Eiko straightens the collar and folds the lapel over the other before tying it with a single white sash to bind it all in place and Izuku disappears into it.

"There," Eiko hums in approval, stepping back to give him room to look at himself in the mirror.

The young man reflected back is something else. A column of pale neck, red lips, and kohl eyes draped in the finest of materials and embellished gold and gems; he's sublime.

Slowly, but surely, he finds the image of the ugly, filthy slave boy is chipped away bit by bit, till whatever left of him is this foreign creature staring back at him in the mirror now. Izuku the slave gives away to Hin Deku, the emperor's most beloved concubine.

It's jarring.

It's a stranger face he's looking at. He's unrecognizable even to himself. A sham. A fabricated lie from his head to his toes even to his own identity. Izuku had ceased to exist the moment he met Marshal Bakugou, who'd offered him a chance to escape the chain of servitude but at a price. He lost his own identity in the process.

Deku. Deku.

Marshal Bakugou was the first to call him that, and now he lives and breathes by that name. The only people who know him as Izuku are either dead or there's an entire ocean separating them. On this entire continent the name Izuku only exists in his memory. Sometimes, he would lay awake alone in his bed and say his lost name out loud again and again into the night like a mantra to himself. A prayer for the departed, for the little boy he had to bury oversea in order to be here today. Izuku had to die so that Deku can live in this gilded cage.

"Does the robe not satisfy you, Deku-sama?" Eiko asks, worry obvious in her voice. "I could pick something else instead."

Izuku turns around and meet her eyes, "I love it," he says, offering up a consoling smile. "I was just surprise at how good you make me look." 

Eiko shakes her head. "It's all you, Deku-sama," she maintains vehemently. "I didn't have to do anything really because of those beautiful green hair and eyes of yours. You're twice-blessed! No wonder you managed to enchant the marshal and captured the heart of the emperor."

Twice-blessed. Hair and eyes of the same color are rare enough on this continent that they are consider fortunate and the way his position had risen from obscurity to the position of the emperor's favorite concubine and also having the patronage of the marshal, he’s truly lucky indeed, but it doesn't feel like it when he thinks of the trappings he had made of himself, stuck in this palace for however long the emperor and the marshal needs him for their plan to bear fruit before Izuku can get a true taste of freedom, unchained by duty and obligation.

"Alright, enough flattery," Izuku says, rolling his eyes at her as she pouts. "Let's go before the sun set and it'll be too cold to even step outside."

"You're just not use to the winter here," Eiko argues, stepping aside to pull out a fur cloak for him and a pair of boots.

He patiently lets her help him put on the thick cloak and boots. It took some times for him to not feel out of place being treated like this as he's used to be on the other side of it, but Eiko'd insisted and loudly at that so Izuku eventually caved to her demands to serve him.

"If sometime I can't feel my legs when I'm outside then it's rightfully too cold," Izuku comments idly as he pulls the cloak closer to his body and raises the hood over his head.

"I'm sure you'll get used to it, Deku-sama!" she encourages. "It's always tough in a new home."

She heads toward the door and pushes it wide open. A gust of chilly wind immediately blasts into the room, leaving icy cold touches all over his exposed skin.

"New home, huh," he murmurs to himself, staring out into a bleak white scenery that matches the barrenness of his heart.

Eiko peers her head outside, frowning hard when she sees nothing but a sea of white. "Shinsou? Shinsou!" she yells into the courtyard. "Where did he even go?! Probably out flirting with some maids again. Ugh."

"It's fine, we can go alone."

"No," she huffs. "It's too risky."

"It's a twenty minutes walk," Izuku says instead.

"Absolutely not!" She put her hands on her hip and glares. "He's your guard, so he should do his job properly and escort you wherever you need to go. It's too dangerous otherwise!"

Izuku bites his lower lip, but doesn't refute.

He looks beyond the courtyard to the iron pillars encasing Imperial City; the iron fortress, they call it. An impenetrable barrier that keeps the unwanted out, but also locks its twenty thousand residents within its border.

Imperial City isn't even a city; it's the resident of the royal family and its side branches, and where they hold the court, but it's so massive and filled with thousands of souls, who keep the entire country running within its walls, that it might as well be a city onto itself. Such vast military and political power concentrate at this singular area that it becomes dangerous. Maybe it's more dangerous here then it is outside because machinations are always brewing within its wall and Izuku had seen enough blood drawn in the Imperial City to know peace is illusive here.

Eiko has all the reasons to be fearful. She grew up within its wall and had seen the passing of one emperor to the next. A quiet transfer of power was never an option for them. The current Emperor Shouto had to kill his father first before he was able to sit on the iron throne. That however is not new, it is a precedent of its bloody history.

"I'll go get him then," she declares, and before he can say anything more off she goes into the wind, leaving him alone with nothing but the biting chills as company.

Izuku sighs as he slowly steps outside of his chamber and into the cold, shutting the door close behind him. Deep snow crunches beneath his boots, step by step. Izuku breathes out a fog of warm and inhales nothing but brisk air in return that has him holding back a tremble. No matter how long he has been here the cold still takes him, settling in his body like ice running in his vein.

Under his fourth master, a salt merchant, Izuku had traverse across various terrains, so the concept of snow wasn't uncommon to him but to weather the often-harsh winter of this kingdom is something else entirely; its extreme elements a reflection of its uncompromising people.

He'd seen Eiko running round in deep snow and biting wind with nothing but a slip of a dress. Truly a tenacious bunch they are, Izuku muses reflexively.

"Deku-sama, I brought him!" Eiko shouts as he watches her tiny figure drag a tall lanky man in the imperial guard uniform over.

They halt right in front of him. "Your lordship, my apologies," Shinsou grumbles with a halfhearted bow as Eiko frowns at him. "I was caught up with...” he makes a face before settling on an answer, “something." At least an attempt of one.

Izuku thinks if he too was stuck babysitting the emperor's new exotic toy, he would also be apathetic about his job.

"You were playing with the kitchen staff," she snaps, like she could bite his head off right now. "Doing everything but your job! What happen if Deku-sama was attack and we need you but you aren’t there to help us?!"

"Hey, brat," Shinsou retorts, staring down at her with pinched look, "don't get snippy with me." He makes a pointed gesture toward Izuku. "Look, his lordship is perfectly fine right now! Not even a hair out of place, so stop worrying."

Eiko glowers. "You useless—"

"Eiko," Izuku interrupts, before the two rips into each other again with sharp words that cut each other mercilessly.

She crunches up her face like she's swallowing back her disgust before she finally relents. "We're going to the Imperial Quarter to see the emperor so hurry up and do your job and walk us there."

Shinsou draws back with an annoyed sigh. "Whatever, let's just go."

Izuku holds back a smile. Shinsou is not one of his people but he does his job when it's necessary. Izuku is fortunate enough to have Eiko by his side and dare not be too greedy with his want, after all he doesn't exactly inspired loyalty and devotion in others; Eiko is his sole exception.

He steps forward with Eiko right by his side and Shinsou trailing closely behind them. The three of them depart from the safety of Izuku's inner sanctum, striding beyond its familiar high walls and the peace and quiet it offers him and into the gaping jaw of Imperial City.

Imperial City is a sprawling labyrinth of interconnected courtyards, palaces, ceremonial halls, residential and commercial districts and scattered throughout are pockets of oasis—gardens and ponds and pavilions that offer refuge from the hustle and bustle of the city. Izuku is often found in one of these places, spending hours and hours sitting on a bench as he watches a leave drift pass in the pond below. When he's not needed by the emperor or the marshal, Izuku has no other purpose and is usually listless and driftless with no direction or direction.

A quiet and mundane existent.

He isn't here to climb the rank of the harem; he has no ambition and no power or wealth can sway him more than what he has now. Izuku is only here to be call upon when he's needed be the beloved concubine of the emperor, otherwise sometimes he thinks he doesn't exist at all. His presence is so weak that Izuku thinks if he doesn't speak up nobody will ever know he's there. He's that insignificant and the only reason people will even take notice of him is because they were fool into believing he's important and valuable when he's really just nothing.

Nothing, nothing at all. It's not self-pity, it's the truth. He's content to stay in shadow if he's allowed because the more he stand out the more likely he'll draw the wrong kind of attention. He just needs to do his job and do it well enough to so they keep him around. Survive. Head down. Stay out of trouble and one day, maybe, he'll be free. He just needs to last till then. Izuku clenches his fist, his dream of a quiet future spurs him onward and across the Imperial City.

"Oh no," Eiko cries out, pulling their party to an abrupt stop midway. She frowns. "Your robe is all dirty now! I knew we should have taken a litter, Deku-sama."

Izuku glances down where her eyes had fallen to and sees the bottom skirt of his robe is marked by dirt and snow now. "It's fine." He shakes his head. "I wanted the walk anyway."

"But your perfectly nice robe—" the rest of her sentence is suddenly cut off as they hear a commotion off in the distance drawing closer to them by the second. They turn around and look back to see an entourage of guards and servants carrying a sedan chair heading their way.

Izuku steps back with Eiko to clear a path for them, drawing his cloak closer to himself as though he can disappear into it. He lowers his head and reaches over to squeeze Eiko to do the same. The amount of fuss kicked up surrounding the litter speaks of someone of high rank.

Eiko huffs and reluctantly complies to let the entourage about to quietly pass them by, but then it abruptly halts right in front of them. Izuku's heart races as he hears a familiar voice drift from the enclosed litter.

"Hin Deku, what a surprise to see you out of your hiding hole."

With the exception of special events, Izuku's avoidance of others has made him a notorious figure in the harem for declining invitation to soiree from the other concubines. He's so elusive that there are rumors that the emperor is too possessive of him to let him out of his sight. Consequently, it made his reputation even more prominent in the city for being so well-loved even though it's a lie. This false narrative has managed to draw the ire and jealousy of the entire harem. And in one person in particular, leaving Izuku open to attack on all sides.

"I'm seeking a moment of fresh air," he answers, lifting his head up just in time to see a pale hand peeking out of the curtains.

A servant hurriedly helps the occupant step down from the litter as a small figure with a delicate, round face and large dark eyes reveal herself. She composes herself before him in a swirl of blue and gold; regal, lovely, and every bit an imperial concubine. "Is your education so lacking, Hin Deku," she says, voice light but her words are cutting, "that you suddenly forgot your manners and who's standing before you now?"

Izuku freezes and immediately drops his gaze to the floor once more. "This one apologizes for forgetting to greet you and seek forgiveness from Hin Akemi," he beseeches, hands cupped out in front of him.

He dares not to look up to see what kind of face she's making at him now. Though Izuku and Akemi shares the same rank, her seniority in the harem and the backing of her family makes her title carries more weight than him. He can't afford to offend her even with the emperor's favor, after all the petty squabble of the harem is not His Majesty's problem. Neither is it the marshal. They can promise Izuku all the support that he may needs and that they'll keep him safe, but here in this place, where Izuku has no one at his back and he's terribly outnumbered, he is alone and alone he must face his opponent in this treacherous water.

She sniffs haughtily. "How do I know your intention is sincere?"

"If there's anything I can do to appease you, please let me know," he says, as though he's offering his bare neck up to her.

He holds his breath for a moment before she says with a biting clarity, "Then kneel."

Izuku jerks his head up, eyes wide and lips parting in surprise. Akemi is right in front of him now as though she'd had floated to him while he wasn’t even aware of how she managed to get this close to him. He can even see the beauty mark below her left eye as she stares expectantly at him.

Izuku looks pass Akemi and sees the solemn and blank faces of the servants behind her. They say nothing, offer him nothing. And that's all it needs to be said, because in the end it's just Izuku with Eiko bristling with contempt at his side and Shinsou feign indifference behind him.

In another world, unbent and unbowed, there is an Izuku who'll stand tall with Akemi and won't lower his head for her. For anyone. Brave and strong, in that world, he does not wait for assistance to be handed to him by others but seizes it for himself, but this is not that world. And Izuku is neither particularly brave nor strong in this case.

He has been lucky, willfully fortunate to get where he is now, but none of his achievements are remarkable in any way that he feels a sense of accomplishment and pride over his position as the emperor's favorite. After all, he finds that pride is a luxury he can't afford. Not then and certainly not now either. He'd learned early on his life that pride won't put food in his stomach, a roof over his head, or keep his masters from beating him bloody and blue when he’d stepped out of line.

It's simple to speak of pride when you got no collar around your neck and your life is not held in the hands of those in power so Izuku, whose life has never been his own, knows what he should do in the face Akemi's disdain.

The answer is easy. It's always been easy for him.

He starts to lower himself to the floor, but a hand forcibly holds him back before his knees can hit the snowy ground. "No!" Eiko shouts, so furious on his behalf that she's trembling in it. "Deku-sama isn't a servant, so don't treat him like one. He is your equal, remember that!"

Bristling for a fight, Eiko refuses to let Izuku succumb to Akemi's demand even though she may buckle under the consequence of her action later. Foolish. Absolutely foolish, his little defender. Always ready to fight the world for him even when there is no way for her to win.

Just like that day when he'd met her for the first time. He was asked to pick out his personal attendant among the available servants and Eiko was there, but she wasn't even an option. She'd belonged to someone else but she was the only one to look at him in the eyes and smiled. So he’d chosen her. It was the first time in a very long time that he was given a choice at all and he'd chose her. Out of everyone he could have had at his side, he chose her. And though he does not rightfully deserve her, she is his. His responsibility and his to care for.

Akemi curl the hands at her side, her long pointed nails dig into her flesh as her knuckles run pale. "You insolent little wretch," she hisses at Eiko, spewing venom with every word that is spat from her mouth. Her beautiful face rages and twisted into something far uglier. "How dare you?! Know your place, leech."

Eiko snorts. "Then you should know, my lady, who has the emperor's favor now," she says with a sneer.

Flushed with indignation and her fist unclenched, Akemi steps forward toward Eiko with her hand raise and the promise of violence.

In that horrifying moment it's not courage that moves him, but the icy cold grip of fear wrapped around his heart. Fear of losing the only person that ever matters to him now, he pushes Eiko out of the way and takes the hit in her place. Akemi's nails dig into his flesh as it grazes across his cheek.

The sting of the slap hurts, but it doesn't hurt as much as the thought of it striking his Eiko.

"Deku-sama!" he hears Eiko's horrified cry, but it’s background noise against the violent drumming of his heart. Her hands frantically reach for his face but he gently brushes her off.

He breathes. In. Out. Touches where his skin burns and could feel the initial mark of a wound on it. Ignores it and faces Akemi with a lethal, icy smile. "Are you done?" he asks her, voice sharp and severe enough that it could whittle down the hardest of steel.

It's surprising the words that came out of him managed stay firm at all even as his heart is about to fall out of his chest and he has to forced his hands to remain steady, so it doesn't give away the smallest indication of a tremor; let it not be said that fear cannot be a great motivator. But the picture he paints for everyone else must have been jarring because their eyes are wide as though taken back and there's a stillness in the air that is thick and heavy, enough to drown them all in its hush.

"What did you say?" Akemi demands with a biting incredulous.  She looks angry, but also strangely shock by him.

Izuku tuck his hands behind his back, clenching and unclenching them so tightly that his nails dig into his palm in an exercise of futility; it won't give him courage, but the pain will distract him from his fraying nerves. It's just enough for him to widen his smile, showing too many teeth and the sharp edge of something fierce. "I asked if you're done messing with me," Izuku answers, stepping forward and right into her space, "because are you ready to bear the consequences of your action now?"

For a moment, Akemi's blue eyes flash with a fleeting hint of alarm before she shuts it down completely and firmly holds her ground. "Do you think you can challenge me?" she seethes, cool and unflappable even against the threat hovering over her head like the swing of a sword.

She stands there before him so assured and confident in herself that he can almost see the chrysanthemum crown on top of her head. In another world she could have been an empress—so beautiful, fiery, and capable that anyone standing before her can see how bright she shines. But even with all the blessings bestowed upon her, Izuku's arrival had stolen everything that should have been rightly hers. So she targets him, strikes where it hurts the most, making him feel so small and lacking in her presence that he wants to retreat within himself.

It's easy to hate her, he thinks, she makes it is so easy but he knows in his heart that he doesn't. Not even for her obvious contempt of him and those lower than her. He finds it deplorable, but in the end, he doesn't hate her because they're more alike than he cares to admit. They're two fish trapped in a glass bowl, forced to swim in the same circle day in and day out as the world outside pass them by because that's the fate of all the omegas in the harem. It's a gilded cage. Akemi does what she needs to survive here and he can't wholly begrudge her for it.

How can he when they're basically all prisoners here. Even if the bars are dressed differently, the foods are much nicer, their clothes are made of the finest materials from faraway lands, and they're spoiled by wealth and privilege of their status, but a cage is still a cage. Omegas are the only one who Izuku know can easily enter Imperial City, but it is near impossible for them to leave. The exits that exist is either death or a dismissal, otherwise their fate is bound to live and die by the emperor's whims within this grand and opulent prison.

The only way for them to truly survive here is to attain the coveted empress title but to do that they must seize the emperor's heart for themselves. There is solely one empress in the entire dynasty and one emperor to rule them all, but a hundred of omegas ready to fight for it.

They're all fighting to be the one to carry the next heir to the throne thus cementing their place in history and elevating their status, not knowing that the man they have drawn each other's blood for will never look their way; he's too busy looking at the alpha by his side.

Izuku thinks it's ironic that for all this country pride itself on the fair treatment of omegas above the rest, here their worth is still measure by the seed of the alpha that they carry. The responsibility to bring forth the new emperor rests on their delicate shoulders. This turns the harem into a war game that belong solely to the most cunning and accomplished of omegas, where they trade swords for barb tongue and strength for wits but they all cut and bleed the same. Only the best can thrive here in this beautiful garden full of thorny flowers.

Akemi, for all her pride and arrogance, is exceptional at this. The daughter of fifth rank minister, she'd managed to reach the rank of Hin within a year but she doesn't stop there. Ambitious and unwilling to ever settle, her eyes never straying far from the empress' crown. She knows what she wants and is willing to trample on others to get it. Izuku doesn't agree with her callous methods in the end, but admires her drive and tenacity, something he finds himself poorly lacking. To have something worth dying for, he wonders what that feels like.

If Akemi wants the empress' crown that badly, he'll gladly step aside for her but he won't let her hurt his people on her path to the throne.

"I wouldn't dare," Izuku shakes his head ruefully, because isn't that the truth, "but will you be able to answer to His Majesty for it then?"

He has no real connections, no backing, and no influence here, but she doesn't know that and neither does the entire court, and that's his greatest weapon. The lies he has managed to weave will be his sword and shield and hopefully to keep him alive long enough.

Akemi freezes in her place as her shoulders go taut and the hands at her side clenched up, but her face remains placid, giving away nothing as the startled expression on the face of the people behind her shows the exact opposite. "The emperor, you say?" she asks coolly.

Izuku nods. "He'd invited me to join him and the marshal for a morning meal, and who am I to deny his offer," he lies as effortlessly as he breathes. These falsities are becoming easier the more he says it. "But I wonder what he'll say when he sees this mark you left on me, hm?"

His hand slowly traces where her nails had cut through his flesh meaningfully, in full light of everyone there.

"His Majesty sent for you?" she asks, narrowing her eyes in skepticism.

"Yes, is it that surprising?" Izuku cocks his head thoughtfully and smiles in challenge.

His tongue feels loose and easy as though he had practiced these words a hundred times before to sell his story so convincingly. "I'd enjoyed several meals with the emperor before and this is no different. I'm sure you spent enough time with him to know what that's like by now." It's common knowledge that the emperor takes painful steps to avoid interacting with his harem, but to admit that Izuku is special enough to garner exclusive access to the emperor and his most trusted advisor is—Izuku’s smile sharpens.

Cornered, she grits out, "Of course."

Her pride wins out as he expected, because for a person like Akemi, who was born into privilege and power, she couldn't let herself admit that someone with barely known origin and is practically scum beneath her boots had won the emperor's favor over her. It was simply not so.

But Akemi isn't done yet: "That's interesting though because I just passed the emperor's palace on my way here," she informs him, lips thinning, "and the eunuch there informed me that His Majesty had just woken up and had yet to see or sent for anyone beside the marshal."

Izuku keeps the smile plastered on his face, not letting her see any weakness in his fabricated story. "He had just sent out the missive to me, so you must have missed it."

"Oh? But how did the message get to you so fast when I was there earlier," she counters, eyes narrowed.

Breathes in. Out. Gaze steady and voice firm as he explains, "It's a private meal with His Majesty and the marshal. It isn't meant to be spread around for gossip." The corner of his lip twitches. "I thought such idle talk is beneath someone of your standing, Akemi-sama."

There's an indignant scoff. "You talked a lot of smoke for someone who couldn't look me in the eyes earlier," she muses dryly. "Where have you been hiding your backbone?"

Eiko stiffens beside him as she sneakily tucks her hand in his and squeezes it as though to reassure him.

He glances at Eiko and gives a brief, sincere smile that had meant more than any words they could have said to each other. It's okay, I'm fine. We'll get through this. All unspoken but the message carries. Eiko reluctantly nods and withdraws her hand, but she remains close. Even if nobody could see through his perfectly placed smile and steady voice, she knows of the anxiety often plaguing his heart where it takes root and grow to unmanageable height, but this time when his heart race it's for an entirely different reason. It's not fear that he feels.

He turns back to Akemi. "I dare not lie," he says, letting her jabs slide off him as easily as how unprepared he was for wet snow for the first time. Except this time his dignity will be left in tack. "His Majesty asked for me and as his faithful servant I can only answer.” He adopts a sullen expression as though it wasn't her cowardice comment that hurt him, but the suggestion that he would use His Majesty as an excuse to get his way.

Akemi sneers. "Am I supposed to just take your words for it?" she asks, not biting on any of his hanging lies.

Izuku consider her words, chewing them over carefully but before he can decide his next course, he hears a voice that had remained quiet through this entire altercation finally speaks up: "His Majesty had sent me to escort Hin Deku to his palace," Shinsou says, surprising everyone in the vicinity.

While Izuku had a choice in choosing his attendant, Shinsou was assigned to guard him; neither was each other's first choice and that has shaped their entire relationship. As long as Izuku is alive and breathing that's all that matter, he doesn't get involved in anything else. Shinsou carefully maintain distance left much wanting, but Izuku can't blame him for it in the end. If Shinsou can't drum up any loyalty and trust in Izuku then the fault lies in him rather than Shinsou. He's the one who's lacking the qualities that would make Shinsou choose him.

So, it took all his effort to keep his face perfectly neutral, not giving away anything that could say otherwise, that Shinsou words also shocked him as much as them.

"Is that so?" Akemi asks, slowly and dubiously.

Shinsou shrugs. "Yes," he says with a vague disinterest that he couldn’t bother to clarified.

The tone he used had sound like he couldn't be bother if she'd believe him or not; he'd said his piece and that's it. Sometimes it makes Izuku wish he can be that callously indifferent to everything, not think of the consequence of his actions and not caring what others may think. But Izuku does care, he cares too much and he suffers for it. He's used to it though. Fortitude has always been one of his better qualities. It may not be as flashy or notable of a trait as bravery but it's what has managed to keep him alive up until now; it's him surviving.

It's what Izuku does best, finding exits where there are none. "If you still have any doubt, we can meet with His Majesty together and have him confirm my words for you," he suggests, throwing everything on the line for this one bluff.

Akemi's brows furrow, her lips pinched at the corner in thought. There's a speculative look in her eyes that makes Izuku's chest go tight, wondering if she will call him out his bluff. She hadn't believed him any of his words earlier and had challenged him step by step. Even with Shinsou support, she won't be easily move. This is Izuku's last resort, placing himself right into her hands—whether she believe he would ever dare step right up to the knife edge of her blade and cut himself on it to prove a point. It's a gamble and he's risking it all.

A blanket of silence settles in place as she considers her options, then at last she lets out a long, heavy sigh. "I think we're done here," she says, rolling her eyes. "I wouldn't want to intrude in your mealtime with His Majesty and the marshal."

A concession finally.

She looks at him, peeved at having to concede on her side but there's a hint of smile from her and then it's gone in a flash as though it was just a figment of his imagination. In that moment he thought she look almost impress by him, that he even could be that stupid and brave.

Strangely, he finds that all very comforting.

"Your consideration is much too kind, Akemi-sama." He lowers his head in deference. "I wish you a wonderful day then," he says to the ground.

Akemi exhales loudly. "You're particularly annoying," she says with a huff. With a wave of her long sleeve, flaring dramatically in the wind, she steps into her litter and corrals her entourage away with a severe order out just like the way she'd came in—abrupt, disrupted, and a whirlwind of contempt, leaving them all gasping for something to hold on to.

As soon as Akemi and her people are gone, a speck of blurry dot in the distance, Eiko turns toward him with a handkerchief in hands and checks over his injured cheek carefully. "Oh, you shouldn't have jump in for me like that. I'm used to it," she insists. "I would have been fine."

He stares where their hands are connected and sees the slightest of tremors that vibrate from his hand. He hadn't even noticed.

"Look you're trembling," she says worriedly, holding his hands tightly in hers as though that would calm him down, but Izuku just shakes his head. “I’m glad at least she didn’t leave any noticeable bruise on your cheek.”

Somewhere between then and now, the anxiety that had wrecked him earlier had morphed and mutated into something unfamiliar. It's not fear that he feels at this moment. It's the thrill of being cornered and barely making it out alive; it's dancing on the edge of an open flame.

More than anything, Izuku is keenly intimate with fear; it sleeps in his bed and wrapped itself around him like an old familiar blanket. He knows its name. Knows the curve and stroke of each letter like he knows his own. It pervades his thoughts and dreams, and weighs his actions. He knows fear, but he doesn't know this. Whatever this is that had made him flushed with provocation, and the desire to face Akemi down with nothing but his overblown lies and a thin layer of bravado to carry him through. It was recklessness. Insane. And he did it. It doesn't seem like him. Not the smooth carefully delivered lines, not the steady gaze that had held Akemi's own, and certainly not the foolish bravery that made her eventually capitulated. He doesn't know this version of Deku, and yet—it leaves him shaking with excitement.

"I'm fine," he tries to assure her. He couldn't even begin to explain the strange, complicated feeling that had taken root within his heart.

Eiko doesn't look convince, but he doesn't budge either so she just gives up. "Deku-sama, you were amazing earlier," she gushes instead. "You really put Hin Akemi in her place!"

That wasn't true, but Eiko's earnestness is hard to dissuade so he lets it slide. "Silly girl," Izuku flicks her forehead, "I wouldn't have to go that far if you didn't so recklessly mouth off to her," he scolds, but it holds no bite.

Eiko pouts at first before casting a cheeky grin at him. "I only speak of the truth. This honorable tongue can tell no lies," she declares, rubbing the red spot where he’d strike her in an exaggerated hurt.

He glances behind her, taking a step back and with a sincere smile, he dips his head, bending at the waist in regard. "Thank you," he says to Shinsou as easily as he breathes. “I'm in debt to you."

Shinsou’s expression remains aloof and distance like he’s an untouched island. "She'd talked too much," he says dismissively, and that was that. He’d said it in such a casual way as though that was a reason enough for him to put his head on the line for Izuku. Truly a puzzling man with curious intent, but he is nonetheless grateful to Shinsou anyway. Kindness without the weight of ulterior motive is a rare and special breed.

After that, without any further delay, they depart once more on their merry way, only slowing down a few times for Eiko to read the placards off of the buildings that they'd passed for him and Izuku quietly noting each stroke and angle of that made up each word to himself.

Then, finally, they arrive at the emperor's residence. As soon as they step into the enormous archway leading into the outer courtyard, an eunuch catches sight of them right away and rushes toward them.

"Hin Deku," he greets with a bow. "How can I be of service to you today?"

Steady, breath in and out, the boy named Izuku retreats in order for Hin Deku take his place once more. Refined, demure, and well-manners, Deku returns his greeting with an acknowledged bow. "I wish to see the Emperor," he tells the eunuch coolly, revealing none of his cards.

The eunuch jerks up in surprise, giving him considering look at him, then, he says, "His Majesty is partaking his morning meal with the Grand Marshal right now and doesn't like to disturb during this time, but I'll speak with His Majesty and see what he’ll say to your request."

"My gratitude to you," Izuku replies with a dip of his head.

The eunuch leaves them alone with several servants standing by, drawing a few curious glances their way that Izuku refuses to acknowledge. He stands tall and resolute as though he has every right to be here.

It isn't long before the eunuch comes back, but waiting in the courtyard with so many eyes on them is jarring. Their gaze pricked at every one of his exposed nerves, and it's only when the eunuch says, "His Majesty will see you now," that Izuku lets out his long-held breath.

The eunuch pushes through a large double door in front of them then moves back quickly and gestures for only him to go through. Eiko deftly touches his wrist for encouragement before stepping back with Shinsou, leaving him to face his greatest hurdle yet before him in that room.

Izuku breathes as he steps forward and the door closes behind him, feeling the burden of his action with every sluggish step he takes into the tiger's den. It isn't long before he feels the pressure of two alphas locked in a room with him as he notices the figures in front of him. The oppressive air presses down on him. It's nigh uncomfortable, heavy like he's being dragged under water but Izuku lets none of it show. He bears the weight of it like a rock jutting out the surface of a stormy sea.

Unwilling to show any of the pressure o him, he drops down to his knees with a practiced ease. With hands cupped forward, he lowers his head in almost to the floor in deference. "This lowly servant greets Your Majesty and his lordship, the Grand Marshal," he says solemnly.

A beat, then, "rise," Emperor Shouto commands as dry and coarse as a desert, giving away nothing.

Izuku gets up and raises his head, staring right into the eyes of the men in front of him, whom he owes his new, lavish lifestyle to but also the very men who trapped him in this glass bowl in order to safeguard their secret. They're both his savior and jailer, he won't forget it.

Their presence dominates the entire room, permeating every crevice and corner as though the simple fact that they're here it takes up all the space in it. These are two of the most powerful men in the entire empire and Izuku stands before them defenseless and within their grasp.

Bakugou Katsuki rests his cheek on his knuckles, eyeing Izuku carefully from where he casually lounges next to the emperor like he’s meant to be there. "What you want?" the Grand Marshal demands harshly, appearing deceitfully young, but fierce and ruthless enough to cut a bloody swat across the continent.

Izuku had been a front row witness to his brutality. He barely manages to hold back a flinch as Todoroki turns to Bakugou with a frown. "Behave," he scolds, but it sounds endlessly fond, speaking of years familiarity between bred them.

Izuku doesn't know how anyone can't see it.

Bakuogu tsks in annoyance. "Our meal is disrupted," he snaps, sitting up properly now but there's a carelessness to it that speak of the ease he has with Todoroki, "so this had better be fucking important."

"I'm sure Deku-san has his reasons," Todoroki responds coolly.

Even though there's a visible distance between them, the level of intimacy and comfort can't be denied, hidden and tucked between their courtly role as an emperor and his most loyal general. It's in the way they look and speak to each other; terribly affectionate and indulgence.

It's so obvious to Izuku yet Bakugou and Todoroki managed to have the entire world fooled that they’re nothing but close confidants. The thing is alpha and alpha’s pairing are view as against nature as opposite sex attracts and same sex repulses. It's the order of things, but Izuku is starting to believe less and less of it every day.

"Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Majesty," Izuku apologizes. He resists fidgeting with his hands in front of them. A show of nerves that would not alleviate the heaviness in his chest right now. Looking up at them high in their seats like gods among men, he holds his ground. "But I came to beg a favor from you."

Bakugou snorts, pursing his lips in displeasure. "What, all the treasures we gave you is not enough?"

Choosing to ignore Bakugou’s comment, Todoroki gives Izuku an encouraging smile. "What is it you need, Deku-san?"

But the smile does nothing to calm Izuku's already fray nerves. While Todoroki appears discipline and pleasant against Bakugou's rough waters, beneath that calm placidity hides a shrewd intelligence who masterminded the plan to use Izuku as a shield for their secret affair.

He doesn't trust either of them. Not with his life or his heart.

Izuku drops his gaze to the floor. He lets out shaky exhale and then, looks up once more. "I wish to have a teacher, if you would allow it," he confesses. "Someone who can teach me literature and history of this kingdom."

Todoroki's smile goes cold. "Why are you suddenly interest in learning?" He looks upon Izuku with suspicion.

"Are you that bored sitting on your ass all day that you you think this would be far more entertaining?" Bakugou demands, unamused.

"If you're that curious then we have several libraries that can be open to you," Todoroki offers instead. "We have many books you can read from and you don't need a teacher necessary for that."

Izuku shakes his head. "But there are things an Imperial Tutor can teach me that a book cannot."

Todoroki frowns. "What is that you're trying to learn that can't be taught through books?"

Izuku flushes. At his side, his hand clenches and unclenches the fabric of his skirt. "It's nothing of importance."

"Then why do you do you specifically need a tutor since it isn't important enough to warrant an answer from you in the first place?" Bakugou retorts in a huff.

"I just want a teacher, why are you making this so difficult?" Izuku murmurs under his breath, aggrieved. It isn't like he's asking them for the moon, so why did this suddenly turn into an interrogation?

"Speak up!" Bakugou narrows his eyes. "If you want something say it!"

Indignant tersely rises up his chest, bubbling forth and breaking through. "How can I use books to learn when I can't even read and write my own name?!" Izuku snaps. Once the words escaped him, he gasps and quickly covers his mouth as two shocked faces stare back at him incredulously.

Heart in his throat, he hurriedly drops to his hands and knees and begs for mercy. "F-forgive me for speaking out of turn," he pleads to the floor, trembling with fear. For a moment he forgot who stood before him and the power they easily wield over him, but the damage is done.

He holds his breath as he waits for the fallout of his foolishness, but then, "You're... illiterate?" Todoroki finally says instead, surprise coloring his voice.

Izuku bites his lower lip and slowly raises his head. "Yes," he confesses. It was never necessary for him to learn. None of his previous masters felt the need to educate him as it is a privilege for the few. Tools are to be use and not taught.

"That's rather unexpected because education, at least up to grade school, is compulsory for all citizens here even among our vassal states," Todoroki explains, staring at him curiously.

"Well, I am not a citizen," Izuku coldly reminds him, touching his neck as though he can still feel the heavy presence of a collar there. "Or have you forgotten how you found me?" He stops, winces, and immediately backtracks. "N-not that it matters anyway as it isn't your fault."

If he could sew his mouth shut and walk back out of this room this instance, he so would.

"I apologize," Todoroki says with wry twist of his lips, and it even sounds somewhat sincere. "It's just easy for us to forget what you and others have suffered because slavery is forbidden in our kingdom."

The concession is there, but infuriatingly his words only inflames Izuku even more to irate. It’s a touchy subject that always manage to set him off.  "Yet it still passes through your borders unchecked," he says scathingly, recalling the chained men and women he’d saw brought to heel at the entry gate of one of the garrison towns, "and you do nothing about it—" Eyes wide as he catches himself in time and bites down the rest of his biting criticism. He groans, defeated by his furiously loose tongue at this moment. "Punish me already, please," he begs resignedly, before he could say anything else to worsen his situation.

"No, this is far too entertaining," Bakugou says, smirking and crooking his finger for Izuku to continue, "Please keep telling us how we should run our own kingdom."

Izuku shakes his head. “I wouldn’t dare to.”

Bakugou snorts. "I thought the comfort of the harem spoiled you and the person who'd held a dagger to my throat that first night had disappeared under all that silk and gold,” he muses dryly. "So, you have been hiding your fangs this entire time."

Izuku stiffens, but wisely holds his tongue this time.

When Izuku does not rise to his obvious bait, Bakugou leans forward and peers at him curiously. "Though I'm more interest in your need for secrecy."

Izuku sucks in a deep breath before meeting his gaze. "Would have you taken me in if you knew of my inadequacy?" he challenges.

Bakugou glances at Todoroki, who purses his lips and doesn't say anything. Neither mouths move but their eyes say as much to each other before Bakugou leans back in his seat, looking annoyed. The deafening silence that follows from both of them is an answer enough for Izuku.

In the Imperial Harem, they provide the best environment to cultivate the most beautiful and talented flowers for the emperor, but they often came to the garden already in bloom while Izuku is a weed sown on coarse soils, pretending to be something he's not in order to survive. He knows his worth and what's he lacking. If any of his shortcomings are exposed, it can be exploited and used against him. This harem will eat him alive if they find even a crack in his walls. He's a weakness that neither of them can afford.

"I thought so," Izuku says gravely.

They have their reasons for doing what they do, but so does Izuku.

"It would be a lie to say you still would have been our first choice," Todoroki admits, "but we would have found a way to work with you. You didn't have to—" But the rest of his sentence gets cut off by Bakugou.

"Fuck that, what I want to know is how you managed to fool us all this long?! I spent two months with you on the road and not once did give you an indication of illiteracy." Bakugou grins menacingly, baring his teeth as though he can sink them in Izuku. "What other secrets are you hiding, hm?"

Todoroki glances at Bakugou and frowns, but even he too appears intrigue. "I heard you attended the Empress Dowager's poetry reading party two weeks ago with the other concubines and Princess Fuyumi even mentioned she found you to be surprisingly well-read. She was impressed."

Izuku presses his lips together, hesitant.

"If you tell us the truth, I'll grant your wish," Todoroki promises, trying to break his resolve. "I'll even introduce you to our teacher, Aizawa Shota, who has taught many of the best minds in our kingdom. You can learn a lot from him."

It's a tempting offer indeed.

"So, what fucking trick did you use?" Bakugou presses impatiently.

Finally, Izuku breaks his silence. "There's no trick. It's all in here." He points a finger to his head. "Language can be simplified into pattern and pattern can be memorized."

The words themselves doesn't hold any particular meaning to him. They're just a bunch of characters meshed together in a line, but each stroke and curve when combine can symbolized something. And it is in this of arrangement of characters that he can attach a purpose to.

Bakugou's eyes narrows at him, but Izuku plows on anyway: "As you know, the Empress Dowager's favorite hobby is reading poetry, so she likes to share it with the concubines. She gave each of us a poem and have us read it out loud, adding our own interpretation to it afterward. Five days before this, I had my maid read to me every poem in the book the Empress Dowager was going to test us on," Izuku explains. "Then I memorized the first line of each poem, because that was how I would use the identifiable markers of which poem to pull from memory."

Repetition. Constant repetition. Eiko read it to him then he recited it back to her. Again and again and again till it ingrained in his head and the words itself sunk under his skin and he even dreamed of it in his sleep. All twenty-six poems in five days. He memorized it all.

So when the day of the Empress Dowager's party arrived, no matter which poem he was given and even when the words itself were unfathomable to him, the first sequence of words uniquely aligned together on the paper was enough for him to recall exactly what poem he had in his hands.

"You memorized an entire book just through someone else reading it to you?" Todoroki asks. His eyes are dark and inscrutable.

Izuku swallows. "Yes," he answers warily.

"And in five fucking days?!" Bakugou looks at him dubiously.

Annoyed now, he huffs. "What, like it's hard?"

Izuku isn't particularly smart or talented, but he's dogged enough to crawl his way to safe harbor if need be. His past hadn't always been kind to him but each layer of pain and suffering had been a lesson, honing his survival skills enough that it made him the person he is today.

His third master was a scholar and she'd loved reading out loud to him in particular, so whenever she was annoyed with him for whatever reason she would make him recite the text back to her word for word without missing a beat. If he gets it wrong, she would whip him as punishment. He got more wronged then right, but he had learned from it. He learned how to visualized the content and the constant repetition of it till his voice had nearly grown hoarse, then he silently recited it in his head instead. It wasn't necessary difficult task, but he had to worked hard to succeed.

"Memorization was the easier part," he says as an afterthought.

Todoroki raises a brow. "Do tell."

Izuku frowns, face blank and impassive.

"You'll also be granted access to the higher-level texts in our library," Todoroki adds in as encouragement while Bakugou looks vexed.

And just like that, Izuku's tongue has loosens up. "I didn't know which book the Empress Dowager would have us read," he says. "So, I had my maid looked into her last poetry reading and she found that all the poems that were selected previously were by the same poet: Seki Yuka." He sent Eiko out to dig information on the empress dowager’s palace and she had brought back plenty for him to digest. "Seki Yuka wrote a variety of many poems and they were collected into seven books. I just have to narrowed down which book Her Majesty would choose for our readings."

"The odds were stacked against you," Todoroki murmurs. "One in seven. How did you know which one to pick?"

Izuku shakes his head. "I didn't know, but I made a guess just from what I know of Her Majesty and the information my maid had gathered for me.”

"You guessed?!" Bakugou shouts.

"It was an educated guess based on reason and deduction." He barely manages to contain his eye roll. "Of the seven books she could have chosen, I immediately excluded one of them from the start because it was used in the last reading as Her Majesty was unlikely to pick it again, so that had left me with six books," he further expands. His process of elimination was as thorough and clinical as he could get. "From what I’ve heard," he may have work hard, but Eiko worked harder, "Her Majesty is a thoughtful person. She would choose a poetry collection with great care, considering the current mood of the palace. I'm a newcomer and I believe she would want that reflect in our reading." Basically, he’d assumed she wanted to test him. "I only kept the books that have some elements of change and new arrival to fit the theme of Her Majesty's reading, which gave me four texts left. Four was still quite a lot," Izuku admits. His method always been methodical and practical, up to a certain point anyway.

"But I took into consideration that the late emperor's anniversary is coming up and Her Majesty's relationship with him had been contentious while he was alive, so she would not be partial to the romantic woes of love poem," he concludes, ignoring the way Todoroki has stiffen up. "I removed two more in that case, so I was left with my two final choices, the books Dream and Wind. Dream has the more obscure poems in its collection and requires a higher level of comprehension, while Wind's poems are short and simpler to understand," he recalls from what Eiko had told him. Wind was something even Eiko was familiar with. "My assumption of her led me to believe that Her Majesty would choose Dream over Wind because she thinks I am favored by the emperor, so she would want to know if I am able to prove myself to be of worth to her son," he explains, looking directly at Torodoki. "A mother's love."

Bakugou sneers. "But you were fucking wrong though. The book that was chosen in the end was Wind."

"That's true.” Izuku's eyes flutter shuts momentarily. "My reasoning were sound but people's actions aren't always based solely on logic; they can be capricious and emotional." The human's heart is an unpredictable thing. "I was confident with my choice at first but then—" he bites his lower lip. 

"Then, what?" Todoroki presses, almost urgently.

"Then I met the Empress Dowager," he continues. "She had called me to her palace to have tea with her."

Since the day Izuku had stepped a foot on the pavement of Imperial City, he had never talked to the Empress Dowager alone, so the invitation that came was completely unexpected. What Izuku knew of her was through Eiko's very thoroughly information gathering, but it was still just the surface level.

He knows that before she was the Empress Dowager, she was simply Himura Rei, the daughter of a powerful minister, and her tumultuous relationship with the late emperor defined her reign, costing the life of her first-born son and the despair that later confined her to her palace for many years. But it didn't prepare him for how soft spoken and cordial she was to him; gentle and reserved like a cold, winter night.

In that room with just the two of them, they spoke about nothing and everything all at once. Idle conversations that led to nowhere yet it revealed bits and pieces of who they are to each other. A former slave and a lady of noble birth, they're nothing alike but she stared at Izuku with a distant and haunted look in her eyes as though she was seeing her past in him. Both trapped behind the iron walls of Imperial City and made used of by powerful men and their whims. Omegas placed on pedestal by their alpha and jealously admired and hated by many, but unable to feel the comfort and peace that come with such coveted position.

"You met my mother," Todoroki states, and there's a cold edge to his words that sends a chill down Izuku's spine.

He drops his gaze. "Yes," he says, "and she was kind to me the entire time. I think she felt a bit of compassion for me and that made me revised my earlier choice."

Throughout their entire conversation, the poetry reading was never brought up by either of them. Neither Wind or Dream was ever mention, yet Izuku left the Empress Dowager's palace with a new certainty that was even more unshakeable than all the accumulation of his rationales.

"So, you changed your mind simply because you met her?" Bakugou inquires dryly. "You worked it down to the smallest of details but you threw it all aside because of your gut instinct."

"After having met Her Majesty, my intuition said she would pick Wind instead," he presumes.  It was everything that she didn't say that he'd picked up. The subtle undercurrent of her words, the lingering looks, and the way she talked of Todoroki like a distant, fond memory; the child that she knows but not the man he has become and fear that he's just like his father. Izuku didn't tell either of them that. Somehow in the back of his mind he feels Todoroki would not like that comparison at all. "I know it wasn't my best decision, but I was willing to bet everything on Her Majesty's pity on me."

Bakugou huffs. "Risky." Pauses. "Fucking foolish." It almost sounds like grudging admiration, tucked between callous words.

"But it worked out in the end," Izuku defends.

Bakugou glares at him. "And what would happen if you'd failed instead? You'll take me down with you."

The consequence of his failure would be catastrophic.

Bakugou is his sponsor, the one brought him into Imperial City and gifted him to the emperor, so any embarrassment that befall him would be a reflection on the marshal. He wasn't just gambling with his own reputation but also Bakugou's. It's a dangerous game he was playing.

"My apology," he concedes, but no more than that. He doesn't regret his decision even in hindsight as he stubbornly stares Bakugou down. The tension between them is thick and chocking to the point he thinks Bakugou going to storm down from his perch to fisticuffs him.

"Alright." Todoroki sighs, like they're tiring him out with their childish strife. "Peace, please."

"Have you realized since Deku stepped a foot in here, his tongue has gotten more and more brazen that he forgot who's siting before him?" Bakugou drawls darkly, eyes narrowing.

Izuku blinks, opens his mouth, and then he quickly snaps it shut again as Bakugou's words finally hit him. His hands drop to the floor and his head quickly follows. "Have mercy, my lord, for I have spoken out of turn," he says to the floor, fear momentarily taking hold of him.

Somewhere along the way, Izuku had let down his guard, forgetting the chasm that divide their social standing. They are not his peers. He is their subject.

"Katsuki," Todoroki chastises, and he can hear the frown in his tone. "Please, raise your head Deku-san. All is forgiven."

Izuku slowly lifts his gaze, sitting back up on his numb knees once more.

"No," Bakugou snaps, face twisted in anger. "This isn't the first time you had taken unnecessary risks. When will you realize that you're not fucking alone in this?! Your life isn't yours to endanger!"

Beside him, Todoroki looks completely stunned like he wasn't expecting these words to slip pass Bakugou's tirade. It's a revelation. One that leaves Izuku feeling cold and haunted of memories of his time with Bakugou before they'd arrived here, before he'd found out the truth.

Izuku quickly quelled the disturbance in his heart and the rattling of his walls. He thinks if he was the same person as the one who had spent all those months on the road with Bakugou back then, his heart would be move.

Bakugou was unlike any of Izuku's previous masters.

The first time they met, Bakugou had cut the collar around his neck. "Your life is mine now," he declared, and Izuku believed him.

He made Izuku a part of his troops. Another face in the crowd that had to earn his place beside them. He wasn't special. He was simply just Deku to him. While Bakugou was mean and coarse, he was never unnecessary cruel. He was sharp with his words and treated Izuku as he was just another soldier in his army, not a pet and certainly not a bed partner. He was either useful or not like a practical tool in Bakugou’s rough hands, and Izuku had liked that.

As long as Izuku has demonstrated his use and every time he'd succeeded in a task Bakugou had given him, he’d looked upon Izuku with recognition. He didn't give a second thought about Izuku's slave status and whenever he proved himself knowledgeable, Bakugou would seek his opinion. It was thrilling. He was transparent with his expectations of Izuku and there was never a doubt where Izuku stood with him, so for the first time in a long time he felt he was worthy of something, of someone, that he could work his way into remaining by Bakugou's side if not his affection one day.

But when Bakugou brought him to Imperial City and had given him away just like that, Izuku wondered what did he do wrong then he met Todoroki and realized he was not even a second choice. He wasn't an option at all when Todoroki was right there and Bakugou looked at him like he's his whole world.

The betrayal nearly crippled him.

So Izuku rebuilt the walls around his heart one by one, brick by brick, fortified it with the anger and hurt in the fallout of Bakugou's deception. Never again became his mantra, his resolution. Izuku's battered heart won't be move by anyone.

Just like that icy water washes over him, his mind is clear for the first time and he speaks with a calmness that he doesn't quite feel. "We have a deal. My freedom for being your shield. I am my own person now. I don't belong to anyone," Izuku says. "So, my life is mine to risk."

It's cold kind of anger that had long settled under his skin, tempered by the months Izuku had kept a careful distance between himself and Bakugou as though it could numb the pain in his heart, but now its raised its ugly head up and clawing at Izuku's chest to come out. Old wound stills hurt. Still bleed if given enough pressure.

He sucks in a deep breath and buried all his resentment once more. "But I recognize that stipulation of our deal requires me to be alive for it to happen, so I will be careful next time," he capitulates. It hurts, it hurts, but he won’t be unmade today.

Bakogou's face is torn, ripped to shred by the aloofness in Izuku's words. While Todoroki retains his cool, the weight of his gaze on Izuku is heavy, troublesome thing as though he's still trying to figure him out. "Thank you for taking our thoughts into consideration," he says instead, ever sensible and cordial. "I'll have Aizawa-sensei meet with you as promise for your cooperation."

At least through this ordeal, Izuku got more than he wanted out of it. He'd given up some of his secrets, but in the end, it was worth the trade.

Finally, after much sitting on his knees, he carefully rises to his feet but his legs that been long dead nearly crumbles, forcing him to take a sudden stumble forward. Izuku quickly steadies himself, having used to spending a long time on his knees by now, but strangely he sees both Bakugou and Todoroki had already shot out of their seat as though they can reach out and catch him in time if he were to fall over.

Like this they look like two youngsters caught in the act of something embarrassing, not at all like high-born alphas sitting in the highest positions in the land.

Bakugou grimaces, falling back into his seat as Todoroki clears his throat sheepishly before retreating with him.

Izuku doesn't deign a respond to the odd spectacle before him. "If you would excuse me then, Your Majesty and lordship," he says, gathering himself up once more. "I'll be taking my leave now." He lowers his head, giving a perfunctory bow before attempting to make a quick exit out of here.

"Deku-san," Todoroki calls out, making Izuku stops in his track, "if you ever encounter any sort of issue like that in the future, know that you can call upon us for assistance. We're in this together after all. You don't have to bear everything alone."

It's a gentle reminder. One Izuku doesn’t care for though. "I hope you have a good rest of the day," he says instead, neither accepting or rejecting the support extended to him.

Todoroki sighs, conceding to Izuku’s stubborn but just as Izuku about to head for the door he hears, as clear as day, from behind him: "So fucking infuriating," Bakugou spits out.

Involuntarily, a small smile slips pass Izuku's lips, but thankfully no one was there to see it. He immediately schools his expression to a more subdue one when he meets up with the eunuch waiting outside for him, who is there to escort him back to where he’d first started.

When he arrives at the front courtyard, Eiko is right where he'd left her earlier and Shinsou is far off in the distant, looking bored. Immediately, Eiko perks up upon seeing him and rushes over to greet him just as he gives thanks to the eunuch before he heads back into the emperor's palace.

"Deku-sama!" She grins. "You're back."

Izuku hums in agreement and ruffles Eiko's hair. "Did you wait long?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "No," she says, leading Izuku far away from the emperor’s palace. "This one can wait however long is needed for Deku-sama even till her last breath."

Feeling his heart lighten just by being around her, Izuku laughs. "My little flatterer," he says fondly.

Eiko preens happily. "Did you manage to accomplish what you wanted to do in there?"

"Hm," he considers for a moment, "perhaps so. We'll see in the upcoming weeks if my beginning of my plan would prove fruitful."

Taking the first step toward anything is always the hardest.

Izuku doesn't wish to get involved in the politics and fights of the inner palace, but he knows he can't stay quiet and under the vague protection of Todoroki and Bakugou's for the rest of his stay here. He might not even live that long for them to deliver their promise with him. The garden of the inner palace is filled with unknown treacheries and various fractions, so if Izuku wants to keep his head he'll have to prepare for the upcoming fights. Knowledge and allies will be his best assets and he's going to have to break his bubble of solitude for it.

In order to protect his future and Eiko's, he must survive.

He takes one last look at the sheer size of the emperor's palace. It looms over him easily even with the considerable distance between them now; it’s the highest seat of power in Imperial City, where this place is one big deadly trap that could easily swallow him whole. The power and weight of it all is immeasurable, and it’s easy to be crush by it if one is not careful.

It's also the place that cultivate the most gifted and talented of minds despite its brutal climate. The soil here offers the best environment to grow and flourished if one manages to survive long enough here, but Izuku is a weed planted in the midst of all that. A stubborn little weed. Tenacity in adversary; a weed can bloom even in the harshest of condition. That resiliency is what make them so dangerous in the end because they're opportunistic and persistent, given the chance easily taking over the entire garden and squashing all the other competing flowers.

But Izuku doesn’t want that for himself. What he seeks is enough resources to defend himself and the people dearest to him, so let the others fight for the right to sit next to the emperor while he sits and waits. Izuku doesn't have to be bold and beautiful like all the other flowers in the emperor's garden, he just needs to seize every opportunity that come his way and maybe, maybe, it’ll be enough to make it out alive and he and Eiko will finally be able to escape from this golden cage.

Chapter Text

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Is the first thing that passed Katsuki’s lips when he steps a foot in the receiving room of the manor.

Izuku smiles sheepishly as Himiko tucks herself against his side. "I'm chaperoning," she says with an eye roll. "You think you could just take the crown jewel of our organization out on a date without me?" She sneers at him.

"He's my fiancé, so it’s fully within my right," Katsuki snaps spitefully. "The lord blessed our engagement, you know this. Everybody fucking knows this or have you lost another screw in your head?"

"Yea, so what?" She snorts indelicately, every bit uncaring. "How do I know your intentions are good? You could be using this chance alone to ravish my beloved Izuku-chan."

Katsuki making a choking noise between disbelief and horror.

"Himiko, don't say that!" Izuku cries out as heat rises to his face. He desperately tries to cover his face but Himiko his holding onto him way too tightly. "K-Kacchan wouldn't do that sort of thing!"

Himiko turns to him and pouts. "I'm defending your honor!" she says. "I don't trust stupid alphas around you."

Katsuki glowers at her, simmering with an untapped rage. "You're also an alpha, bitch," he kindly reminds her, “so get the fuck off of him. I don't want some other alpha stinking up what's mine."

Izuku's heart races even though he knows Katsuki is only saying that to annoy Himiko. He was worry Father had made a grave mistake when Katsuki had shown resistant to their engagement at first. That day, Himiko had happily recalled to him of the fierce argument that had broken out between Katsuki and Father when their engagement was made real in front of the top members of their organization much to everyone’s shock. In a panic, Izuku had quickly rushed out to confront Father in the throne room about it.

Up high on his metal throne, Father sat there looking down on them all like pawns. A menacing figure who can easily overwhelm any room he’s in, his presence alone was a suffocating thing, but Izuku felt no fear then and still no fear now. "Bakugou has proven himself to me, so it's only right I'll give him a little reward," Father had said. "Isn't this what you wish for, my darling Izuku? I only want to grant all your heart desires."

He's All for One. The Symbol of Evil. The Emperor of Darkness. And the Demon King of Japan but to Izuku he's just Father. The man who tucked Izuku into bed every night after a nightmare. The man who loves him enough to remake this country for his only and most precious son. Izuku knows what they say about Father, the kind of monster who rules over Japan with an iron fist and ruthlessly suppresses all form of resistant, but that monster has never shown him a drop of cruelty. So, while he understands that Father's intentions toward him are good, it's not always the kindest things for others. Izuku still has a hard time juggling that fact.

He has nursed a childish crush on Katsuki for the longest time, but he didn't want it like this. Katsuki shouldn't be force to marry him and have his choice taken away. He'd already lost so much when his parents died, so Izuku doesn't want this to be something he'll also regret but father insisted and when father insist even the hardest of steel will bend for him.

Katsuki had no hope of refusing Father’s order, but—but maybe Katsuki doesn't completely hate their forceful engagement after all. This is something that Izuku can work with given time and effort. In some way, he's very much his father's son. Victory through conquest.

Himiko sticks her tongue out at Katsuki. "He's not yours yet, so you don’t have any claim on him!"

"Don't you have some job to do?" Katsuki's eyes narrowed pointedly. "People to murder?" he presses. Instead of having this much free time harassing me and my fiancé on our first date.”

"My job is Izuku-chan," she declares, placing a hand over her heart in a dramatic fashion. "My life and everything that I am belongs to him.”

"How nice," Katsuki says dryly. "He's still engaged to be married to me though."

And Izuku could see the way Himiko’s eyes darken inscrutably that things are about to get serious here. "No fighting," he pleads, fearing that Himiko might just bring out her knives out to play and Katsuki would absolutely entertain her on that. He can already imagine the carnage brought between them if they get into a full-on fight here.

It's not the first time Izuku had seen them butt heads like this, but this is personal. Izuku's engagement is a point of contention for many.

Several members of Father's inner circle weren’t happy that Father had given away his hand in marriage just like that. Tomura-nii was so upset that his office was destroyed during one of his tantrums. Izuku had spent several days afterward trying to calm him down because no matter how angry Tomura-nii got, it didn’t matter in the end; Father’s words are law.

Though Izuku understood the reservation from Tomura-nii’s side because unlike Himiko, who had been indoctrinated in their organization since young and grew alongside Izuku, Katsuki is still a fresh-face recruit but he had quickly risen up the rank and gained Father's attention. He has proven himself again and again what it means to up hold the axiom of their organization; equality under one. Father had paid closed attention to Katsuki’s achievements and it had made him believed that Katsuki can be of a service to their mission.

Father had once told eight years old Izuku that sometime brute force is necessary to break the things that hold us back, and the best weapon are the people we have around us. Even then, Izuku didn’t like the ideas of thinking his friends as tool, and wondered if Father had saw him as a tool too. A less useful one, but a tool nonetheless. He’d never asked, too afraid of the answer to dare.

Himiko hooks an arm around Izuku’s shoulder. "Well, Bakugou should be happy that it's me here today and not Dabi, because he'll spend the entire time glowering at Bakugou and planning a murder in his head."

Izuku sighs, recalling how Dabi was particularly interest in his date and it’s the kind of interest that ends up in smokes and ashes.

"Instead of what? You flirting with my fiancé?" Katsuki adopts the most unimpressed look on his face.

“My heart is pure,” she insists. “What I feel for Izuku-chan goes beyond mere mortal affection. It transcends what you call love. I want to be buried with and in him when I die, so that we become one and the same.” Her face reddens in excitement, the edge of hysteria caught in her eyes. “Only then can my feelings be immortalized!"

Izuku smiles indulgently at her. He heard this many times in their youth. It no longer fazes him anymore. It’s sort of morbidly cute actually.

Katsuki makes a face of disgust at her. "Could you be anymore crazy?" he asks, then turns to Izuku and frowns. "Is there anyone around that isn't a fucking nut job?"

Before Izuku can give that question a proper reply, Katsuki's hand shoots out and he grabs Izuku, hauling him into his arms while shoving Himiko away. "I'm taking him, so you can fucking go away now."

Izuku’s breath leaves him briefly in that moment as Katsuki holds him close, but there’s no time to rest in the comfort of Katsuki’s embrace because Himiko has stumbles back with a sharp smile cutting across her face. It’s all teeth and no bite. A cold sort of smile that he had seen her often displayed before she strikes down any person who come to harm Izuku in bloody mess; the crimson witch they’d called her.

"Bakugou, I'll be careful with Izuku-chan if I were you because are you fully aware of the treasure that you're holding in your arms right now and bear the heavy consequence if anything were to happen to him?" She demands, stepping forward and encroaching right into his space. Her smile spreads even wider, to a length that it seems like someone had chad took a knife and carved it out of her face. It’s unnerving. "The rats having been making a lot of noise lately. They been getting quite bold with their actions and we can't have that, you understand me?”

The silence descends between them is concering. Izuku isn't privy toward the inner workings of Father's empire because Father claimed it will ‘dirty’ him, but he knows he's a high value target for many of his father's enemies that's why growing up, Izuku always been guarded by a senior member of their organization or a nomu. He rarely even left their estate because it was thought to be too dangerous for him. Everything he could ever wanted was provided for him here, but Izuku always felt like the world is passing by him outside while he’s stuck in his own little bubble.

So Himiko's insistence with being with him here for his date today wasn't surprising, but maybe there's more to it than he'd originally thought. "Is this something I should know about?" Izuku asks, more than slightly curious now.

"No!" they both shout at him simultaneously, sharing an equal look of worry and dismay.

"Oh, so you both can actually agree on something," Izuku says dryly.

"It's none of your business," Katsuki sharply retorts.

Izuku frowns. "Even though this seems to concern me." The amount of time he's kept in the dark for his own safety is truly and profoundly annoying.

"Izuku-chan, it's not like that!" Himiko protests, appearing torn between pleasing him and her duty toward keeping him protected and ignorance of the many threats outside the security of his father's enforced bubble.

Izuku is not dumb. He knows everything it not as what seems. Father is a man of large stature and larger ambition. In his effort to reshape this world into a place that he calls 'Eden', he made a lot of enemies along the way.  A world in which being omega and quirkless won’t mean Izuku will be mistreated and discriminated upon, Father made sure of that. "There's a price for everything, only if you're willing to pay for it," Father said to him, before gently placing a kiss on his forehead. "And you're worth it." Though Izuku doesn't know if this is what he would have wanted in the end, but that's his secret to keep.

"Then what is it?" he presses, stepping out of Katsuki's hold. He glares at both of them, standing tall and resolute like he can channel Father in this moment.

Katsuki sighs, ruffling his hair in irritation. "Why don't you just ask your old man? I'm not about to risk my head to sate your dumb curiosity."

Izuku's lips protrude out in a pout. Well, that's not fair. Father is an unmovable mountain. That’s like chipping away mount fuji with a spoon. A wooden spoon.

"Oh, Izuku-chan," Himoko coos, reaching for him. "It's boring stuff anyway. Don't worry about it. Bakugou and the rest of us are going to take care of it." She clutches his hand in hers. It's familiar and comforting, like the time she had held him as the bodies kept dropping around them. Not your fault, not your fault, she had reassured him. "Just live your life peacefully."

It's a kind thought, but somehow it feels restricting, like he's a butterfly pinned under glass. To be treated so dearly and held up in high in admiration by the people around him, but to never let out of his glass box. He wonders if it’s a fair trade.

"Alright, enough of that mushy crap," Katsuki says, peeved like he wants to gag at their show of affection. "You can come with us to our date but only if you stay twelve feet away. I don't want to see a single strand of your hair anywhere in my view or I’m ditching your ass."

Himiko scoffs. "Fine, but I'm watching you.” She raises a finger toward her neck and makes a cutting gesture across it. “Don't think of pulling anything skeevy on my Izuku-chan."

"With my life on the line like that, I wouldn't dare," he drolls, clearly not amused or taking any of it seriously ,but he's not about to get into another argument with her again. "Now can you let go of Deku, so we can get a move on already? This is already taking too fucking long."

"Impatience." She snorts derisively. "But you'll be taking him on Tora-chan though!"

"What, fuck no! We're not taking an armored truck loaded with military grade weapons into the city. This is a date not a fucking warzone," Katsuki hisses as Himiko gears up for another fight over what is a proper vehicle of transportation.

Izuku tucks a smile between his lips. Even in this glass box, it isn't all bad. He can't say he hates it completely not when all his favorite people are in it too.

Chapter Text

"Katsuki!"

A loud bellow echoes through the hall of the house, yanking Izuku's attention from his reading. He looks up just in time to see a young woman in pink storming in. It's a familiar face that he recognizes well from TV and numerous headlines.

"What did I hear about you getting a lesser?!" Ashido Mina demands. With hands on her hip and looking like something fierce, the number 36th Hero Pinky is truly a sight to see.

Izuku quickly runs through the data he had collected in his head of what he knows of her: quirk, acid; grade, A; and class, 5. An upper caste member of society, providing high value application with her quirk. Izuku has seen her photos plastered all over the news, alongside other fame heroes like Katsuki. In another world, he could almost let himself imagine he was among them too.

Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance, stops washing the dishes and removes his gloves. He casts aside his apron before turning around and walking toward the intruder. "I didn't give you the fucking code to my house so you can just barge in anytime you want," he scolds. "Have some fucking manners, Raccoon Eyes."

The earlier flurry of energy from her deflates, but she still doesn't appear to be happy with him. "Where is he?" she says instead. "Where are you hiding the lesser in your possession?"

"You mean him?" He cocks his head toward Izuku, who’s been quietly sitting on the couch watching them the entire time.

Izuku smiles shyly at her and gives a small wave from where he's sitting, but he dares not approach them and disturb their conversation. Katsuki looks at him with a frown before gesturing with his hand for Izuku to come forward.

"C'mere," he instructs, and that's all the permission Izuku need.

He closes his book and tentatively moves toward them. Pulling to a stop right beside Katsuki, Izuku gives Ashido a slight bow.

"Hello, Pinky-sama," he greets, perfectly cordial and with the right inflection of respect in his tone. "I'm Izuku from the Academy." He doesn't give her his last name. It no longer matters. It hasn’t for a long time now.

He hears her make a choking noise that sound like a rock has lodge itself in her throat. "Please don't bow to me," she says urgently. "And you can call me Ashido or Mina if you like. I don't mind it either way!"

"Ashido-sama," he corrects himself as he slowly raises his head.

He’s aware that she’s a friend of Katsuki but years of training is hard to undo. He’s always cautious of how he presents himself, because one wrong move and he could be sent back to the Academy. Trade out for a better lesser. A more obedient and useful one. It has happened before.

Ashido gives him an encouraging smile, but he could feel the heat of her gaze trains on his neck the entire time, trying to see something that isn't there right now. Something heavy, thick and encasing. A PET collar. Instead, hidden under his one of his pants legs, it sits delicately on his ankle disguised as a jewelry.

“So you’re Katsuki’s new lesser,” she comments. It sounds stiff and terse.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, his sense of danger prickling at the back of his head. It feels like something is going to go wrong very, very soon.  

Then with eyes blazing, she directs her ire toward Katsuki instead. "Do you realize what you've done?!" she demands, jabbing a finger at Katsuki's chest. "This is even insensitive for you! You can't be that obtuse to think you can get away with it!"

Face pinched, Katsuki slaps her hand away from his person and huffs. "What the fuck is riding up your ass this morning?"

"Sorry, if I sound a little upset when I heard that one of my best friends bought another human being without me knowing!" Ashido hisses, knuckles going white.

Even though Ashido is clearly angry at Katsuki and not him, Izuku takes a step slightly behind Katsuki. He's trained to be perceptive to the mood of the people around him to deescalate the tense situation and make sure he'll not be bearing the consequence of it. It's a safety measure.

Katsuki doesn't even react to Izuku's pressing himself close to him now, their shoulders casually bumping against each other. "What was I supposed to do," he snarls back at her. "Let some rat ass bastard buy him instead of me?"

"We could have figure something out! You know I’m part of ERA!" Ashido argues. "Have ever consider how it'll look that the top hero of our country is now a part of the lessers ownership initiative? If this get out to the general public, they're going to take it as you endorsing the program and you’re going to be their new poster boy. As your friend how can I stand by and let your name be used like that?" she demands, shaking her head.

Izuku has heard of the group call ERA, Equality for All, and its mission to see beyond the emphasis on a quirk base classification of their society, spreading the idea that they’re all equal and deserve a fair chance. They're on the lower end of the government's watchlist and the Academy considers them a nuisance at best compare to the home-grown terrorist groups like LION, Lesser Rights Coalition, that threatens to completely dismantle the Quirk Index System that judge every citizen living in the country how their quirk should be graded and which caste they fall under.

So, he's not only surprise that Ashido is part of ERA especially given her public image and high caste, but that Katsuki is also a friend of hers.

It makes him wonder what has changed for Katsuki after they were separated more than a decade ago? They both had grown up and grown apart, into wholly different people, belonging to different caste now. One is a top-ranking hero of the country and the other is a bound lesser. With a highly rated quirk, Katsuki now represents their country as a pro-hero like they both had dreamed of, but he also seems different now. Less angry and arrogant. Even when he's arguing with Ashido, there seem to be an ease in which they speak to each other as though whatever said they won’t hold it against each other personally.

The Katsuki he knows was always surrounded by people, but also so terribly alone at the same time. He kept everyone else at a distance, even Izuku, and doesn’t let anyone through his walls. There was no one special to him. He was indifference to all, but maybe that was no longer the case anymore. Ashido has free access to Katsuki’s home, and they appear close. In the past that would have been an unimaginable scenario. Maybe he has really changed, maybe Izuku doesn’t know him anymore. Or ever at all.

"I wasn't going to leave it to chance," Katsuki snaps, eyes going cold and dark. "I just found him and I won't lose him again."

Startled by the intensity of Katsuki's tone, Ashido's eyes go wide. "Found him? Is he—" Her eyes are falls on Izuku. "A-are you Deku? Katsuki's Deku?"

Izuku nods. Slowly. Unsure. Like he's missing a piece of the puzzle here and nobody is willing to help him find it.

The corner of her lips tug upward as her face relaxes into a smile of relief. "So, you're Katsuki's white whale," she says, which only confuses him even more.

Izuku's brows furrow, looking at Katsuki pointedly. "White whale?" he asks, tugging at Katsuki's sleeve. "What did she mean by that?"

Katsuki resolutely ignores him as he glares at Ashido. "Shut your face. Don't put dumb shit in his head or he's going to get the wrong idea."

Izuku pouts. Katsuki talked as if he's a child that doesn't know any better. Really not fair. He wants to know she meant by him being Katsuki’s white whale.

"Really?" Ashido muses, there's a teasing lilt in her tone.  "What sort of idea could that even be?"

Katsuki's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Get your fucking brain out of the gutter."

"You know Katsuki, if you have told me earlier, I could have help you rescue your childhood sweetheart," she comments idly as if knowing exactly what button to press on Katsuki.

And just like that Katsuki makes a sputtering noise of distress and Izuku's face goes up in flame.

"We're not—" Izuku swallows. "We're not anything of that sort!" he vehemently denies. He didn't even think they were friends when they last saw each other all those years back. Their relationship has always been muddled with complicated feelings that they still haven't been able to sort out even after all these years.

Love. Hate. Hurt. Regret. Admiration and resentment. It all entangled up together that someday Izuku has a hard time deciphering which is which. He thought that after they were separated, he won't miss Katsuki at all, especially when Katsuki had left scars all over his heart. But he'd yearned for him, yearned for the kinder and simpler days of their childhood where their life didn't line up and stands opposite of each other. One rose and the other sank, the former sat at the top with a cape around him and the latter on his knees and a collar at his throat.

Even in the Academy, when he's not busy with his lessons he could easily catch sight of Katsuki on TV or in the headlines, tracing the figure of the boy who has grown up without him, and thought if only he can stand right next to Katsuki. Close yet so far like a distant star. And now Katsuki is his master and Izuku served at his behest. How strange things have turned out in the end.

As though sensing the direction of Izuku's mood quickly spiraling downward, Katsuki asserts loudly and fiercely to Ashido, "What we are is nobody's business, but ours."

Ashido blinks. Slightly taken back by the way her joke seems to fall flat in front of them, she quickly backtracks, "Sorry, sorry!"

Izuku offers up a smile to her in hope of squashing any awkwardness between them. It's really nobody's fault that Katsuki and his relationship are a bit of a minefield to tread across. "It's quite alright," he says. "I'm just happy that Kacchan has such a good friend with him."

Even in Ashido's earlier anger, she had cared enough to broach such a sensitive subject to him because she was worry about his reputation and how it could damage him later ton even though this is clearly something that matter to her a lot. This kind of deep and loyal friendship, Izuku finds envious.

He doesn't have anyone like that back in the Academy. They were all on their own, driven by their need to prove themselves in order to stand out because only the best and brightest of them are chosen by a master; the rest will be sent to work in the camps, never to be seen again. Lesser that aren't up to standards of what they thought is a practical tool are therefore reeducated and put somewhere else, so that they can provide other benefits to society.

At least here with Katsuki, under his thumb and the constrain of his bondage, Izuku is own person still.

Ashido grins, her face lighting up at the mention of their friendship. "Well, someone got to put up with this prickly guy," she says as Katsuki scoffs. "He may be rough around the edges, but he's a pretty decent person once you get really, really down to his soft gooey center."

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki bites out as she giggles.

Izuku keeps a smile plastered on his face, careful not to let it drop as he watches Ashido and Katsuki's laidback banter and the way she had explained Katsuki to him as though he's a stranger in Katsuki's life. Involuntary, his chest throbs.

"I hope Katsuki is not making your life difficult," Ashido says with concern. "He has never owned a lesser before, so it may be challenging to live with him at first. He's not pushing you too hard, right?"

Katsuki snorts. “Does it look like I'm even making him do anything?" He gestures toward the kitchen that been Katsuki's domain all of this morning as he prepares lunch for them while Izuku has been lounging in the living room with a book in hand.

Izuku smiles sheepishly, scratching his cheek. "I’ve been reading. Mostly. But only because he won't let me help around the house!" It’s strange.

The academy has trained him ub housework and other skill sets that may be require of him from his master, but Katsuki doesn't seem to care or need him for any of it. It makes him feel redundant and worthless because this is all he has ever known, to serve and please his master. Katsuki won't even let him do that, so what is the point of his existence here? He still doesn't know the exact reason why Katsuki had purchased him. Was out of some concern for him that Katsuki had extended a hand toward him? Or was a sense of duty that had spurred Katsuki to action?

Katsuki's motivation has been in the dark to him ever since they reunited that day at the Academy and he whisked him away from there. He'd given Izuku a beautiful anklet instead of a collar, promised that he was going to find Inko for Izuku, and stripped Izuku of all responsibilities. All he demands from Izuku is that he remains safely at home and do anything moderately stupid.

Some days, he feels more like an over indulgence pet than a human.

"You must have been so bored," Ashido says, looking at him pitifully like she knows how he's hardwired to serve, to be of use.

Well, yes, he has a lot of free time now, but he's just laying around the house uselessly. He doesn't tell her that though. "It's fine," he insists.

He's living on Katsuki's generosity, so he can't complain. Doing nothing is better than being sent back and reeducated. Considering his situation, he's luckier than most lessers. Katsuki is temperamental but he doesn't lash out at him. He treats Izuku brusquely but not harshly. It’s a pretty good life.

Ashido frowns, scrutinizing him so carefully that Izuku dare not even breathe before snapping her head toward Katsuki. "You should provide some physical activity or mental stimulus to Deku instead of having him wait all day around for you," she scolds. "He needs something to do!"

Katsuki scrunches up his face. "I got him plenty of books to read! And he likes them." He looks at Izuku pointedly. "Right?"

Feeling like he's caught in the crossfire, "I like books," he answers meekly, afraid of what answer he give won't satisfied either party in the end.

Ashido roll her eyes. Hard. "Something else then! You can't expect him to be only into books. People have different interests," she reminds him. "They need variety in life, a little spice, they can't all be boring old man like you, who like to stay at home and water his plants and cook."

Katsuki glares. "Those are perfectly acceptable hobbies."

"Sure,” she shrugs, “but you get to do all that while Deku isn't even allow to do any of it except apparently read his books. Doesn't that sound constricting?" she asks. "Have you ever asked him what he thought of it?"

Katsuki's gaze drops to the floor as a stiff silence descends upon them, making Izuku shifts his legs nervously but then he directs his attention to Izuku. "Do you feel like I have been unfair to you?"

Izuku quickly shakes his head, because it's true. Katsuki has been good to him. His life been nice so far.

"Be honest with me, I won't be mad," Katsuki presses further.

His tone is firm but his words are ripe with sincerity even if it's a little awkward with his intention, a little pushy. He looks so unsure and hesitant like Izuku is a child who has to be coax for an answer, but he doesn’t know how. It’s a Katsuki he has never seen before. All prideful arrogance reduced to this.

It's kind of cute.

"Well, I do like my books, but sometimes—” Izuku bites down on his lower lip, hesitant but then, “sometimes I wish there was something else I can do too," he admits at last. "When you're not here, it can be a little monotonous and drab. The highlight of my day is when you're back home and I can hear about how your day of work went."

He was very careful with his words, choosing the ones that he thought won't set Katsuki off and offend him, but the way Katsuki draws back from him and his face a strange amalgamation of confusion and upset like Izuku has taken a knife and stabbed him in the chest repeatedly—was not what he was expecting. At all.

It's a jarring sight.

Just as Izuku about open his mouth and retract his earlier statement, Katsuki shoves his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I can't read your fucking mind, so you’ll have tell me next time," he say, aggrieved, then he heaves a sigh. "I'll do better."

Izuku's jaw go slacked in a shock, so he leans over and pinches Katsuki's arm just in case.

"Deku, you fuck!" Katsuki growls, yanking his arm away.

"I just wanted to make sure I'm not dreaming," he sulks. This can’t be real right? Katsuki, actually, sort of, maybe, admitting he was wrong and trying to improve on it?

"Then pinch yourself," Katsuki hisses, glaring at him heatedly.

"Well, then I would be in pain," he says, and when Katsuki looks like he's about to blow a casket, Izuku breaks out into laughter. He feels light and unburden for the first time in a while.

Katsuki stares at him with dazed look on his face like he doesn't know what to make of him. “You—”

Ashido clears her throat, drawing both of their attention to her as it seems both of they had forgotten that she is also here with them. "Well, if you two are done with whatever that was," she says, wagging her brow. "I have a suggestion."

Recovering himself, Katsuki snorts. "Do tell," he says.

"How about you take Deku with you instead of leaving him alone all day alone when you’re at work," she proposes.

Izuku immediately perks up while Katsuki frowns. "You want me to bring Deku to work? Are you fucking crazy?!" he demands, refusing to accept the idea of it.

"Why not?" Ashido folds her arms across her chest, unfazed. "You have full ownership over him and in the eyes of the law, he can go anywhere that you can go as long as it’s under your permission. And it’s your agency, you have full control over there."

"That's not the point," he retorts, peeved like he's gearing up for another fight with her, but Izuku quickly intervenes.

He reaches out and touches Katsuki's arm, drops his voice to a low cadence with a hint of a coyness, his eyes dips and he looks up at Katsuki from his lashes. "But Kacchan, I want to go," Izuku pleads. "I promise not to cause any trouble and be hindrance to you, so can you take me with you?"

He's putting the lessons of the Academy to work, all that training to be the perfect servant, the perfect companion to their master. When Katsuki remains silent for a lengthy time, Izuku isn't surprise this paltry trick doesn't work on him. He attempts to withdraw his hand, but Katsuki catches it just in time much to Izuku shock.

"Fine," he bites out something fierce, a low guttural sound that sends shiver down Izuku's back as he delicately but firmly holds Izuku's hand in his grip like he can brand his touch against Izuku’s skin. "You can come, but you must listen to everything I say and don't take stupid, reckless action."

"Ah," Izuku breathes. He wonders if this count as stupid, reckless action with the way he instigated this—whatever this is—and now he's the one paying the price of it. Katsuki's touch burns him, incinerating the last of his brain cells. "I'll be good, master," he says, the words unbiddenly slipping pass from his lips.

Katsuki's eyes darken, his breath is drawn out, and he looks at Izuku like he's puzzle that he still can't quite parse out yet. "You're going to drive me to an early grave, nerd," he mumbles, but it sounds helplessly fond.

"Well, don't die yet. You have to take me to work first," Izuku says cheerfully, tangling their hand together. Katsuki’s touch anchors him in place, an assurance of safety that even if he has no home for himself, his place is by Katsuki’s side now. Till however long Katsuki will have him at least.

“Hey, hey, did you guys forget that also I’m here again?” Ashido says with a heavy sigh.  

Chapter Text

"Can you not walk close to me or people will mistake that you're with us," Kasumi says, pointedly glancing at her left and at the increasingly narrowed space between them.

Bakugou pulls his sunglasses down just enough, so he can level a disgruntle look at her. "Yea, fuck that,” he says, snorting. "I was the one who drove you and Deku to this cesspool of humanity, so show me some gratitude, brat."

Kasumi roll her eyes, tightening her hold on Papa's hand. "It's just the mall, jeez. Stop being so overdramatic." She shakes her head. "And you wanted to come with us too!"

"A choice I've come to deeply regret," he admits as he sidesteps another screaming child plowing pass them.

Papa laughs in delight on the other side of her. "Lighten up, Kacchan, it's the holidays!"

Bakugou's face adopts an even more peeved expression. "No," he says flatly.

Kasumi removes a hand from her hip and huffs. "Well, you could have at least tried to look less like a creeper next to us," she says, her hand gesturing to his unfathomably ridiculous get-up. With indoor sunglasses, a face mask, and a cap under a hoodie pulled over his head. She's embarrassed to even look at him!

He clicks his tongue in annoyance. "First, you put up a fight because my face is too recognizable in public," he bites out, derision heavy in his voice, "so I'd disguised myself and now you're complaining that I'm too inconspicuous?"

Kasumi's lips pinch tight. "We're going to see Santa," she states. "I can't have you looking terrible in front of him next to me and Papa. What would Santa even say?" How is she going to impress Santa if he looks like they'd just picked him up from a pile of trash?! She wouldn’t dare facing Santa like that.

Bakugou's hand flexes at his side. "Are you telling me," he says, slowly and carefully like he can't believe his own ears, "that we're here in this godforsaken hellhole because you want to meet Santa Claus at a fucking mall?"

Kasumi nods eagerly. "Papa and I do this every year." It's basically tradition for the Midoriya household at this point, and she never misses her chance of meeting up with Santa. Within her purse, she carries a letter that holds the wishes and dreams of this year that she will hand over to him and she won’t be stop.

Bakugou’s steps halt midway just for him to turn around and pulls down his mask completely, giving her an incredulous stare. "You think Santa Claus is real?"

Forced to a stop alongside him, Kasumi frowns as she feels Papa stiffening up next to him and his palm getting clammy against her. "Why wouldn't he be?" she demands.

Bakugou blinks, taken back by her words. "What's your IQ again?"

Kasumi bristles. “Higher than yours,” she snaps back reflexively.

"Kacchan," Papa hisses, his voice dipping low and anxious. "Don't. Just leave it."

Bakugou narrows his eyes. "Are you kidding me?! She thinks—"

"No, I don't think," Kasumi cuts in before he could even finish his sentence, "I know he's real! Papa and I'd worked this out already." There was a PowerPoint involve and many days of investigation. "We concluded that Santa is one of the original quirk users way before quirks were a common thing. That's how he was able to get around so well and do his job properly."

"And what is his quirk?" he prods, unconvinced.

“Quirks. Multiples quirks," she corrects, holding a finger up. "Duplication, so he can be in multiple places at once with his dupes like how he's here at this mall with us and he’s also somewhere else too." She raises a second one. "Some kind of body enhancement quirk." Another finger goes up. "Immortality is also possibility. It would explain why he been alive for so long," she says firmly, brows furrowing in thought, "but I also think it could be some kind of passive quirk that let him pass his quirks and knowledge to the next generation, so the legend of Santa Claus can live on."

A tense beat passes between them as Bakugou's face go through a series of complicated emotions before he puts his face mask back on, hiding his truth thoughts from her. Papa coughs awkwardly, dragging them forward, so they can continue moving even in their silence feud.

Finally, Bakugou is the first to give in. "You really thought of this one through, huh," he says dryly.

Kasumi puffs up her chest out proudly. "Of course! I don't just believe in anything." She did her research, sat down and theorized with Papa, and this was her conclusion.

"Papa even agreed Santa is real and he wouldn’t lie to me about such things,” she asserts, grounded in a certainty that even the heaven couldn’t be move.

"Oh, really," Bakugou says, slowly turning his gaze toward Papa and even with nearly all of his face hidden, he can’t conceal the glare that leveled at Papa.

Papa immediately turns away with a squeak. He frantically looks everywhere else but at Bakugou until his eyes fall on something in the distance. Excited, he says, "Oh, we're here already!" He points to a large holiday’s exhibition ahead of them. "Look, Kasumi-chan, it's Santa! Let’s go."

He drags Kasumi away as Bakguou simmers behind them.

Chapter Text

Katsuki hears the rustling of the sheets and Izuku's low, sleep soaked groan before he could even utter a single word.

"Did you finish the game?" he asks, sounding rusty and hoarse through Katsuki’s headphone, but terribly familiar.

He snorts derisively.

"Ah," Izuku says knowingly, and Katsuki can hear the obvious smile in it. "Was it that hard?"

"No," Katsuki snaps, as he punches the letters of his keyboard just a little harder and his character on the screen responds in kind.

"Kacchan, it been," a pause, then, "eighteen hours since you installed this game. Did you even take any break since I slept?"

Katsuki's eyes flicker to their discord call on his second monitor, revealing that they been in this discord call just as long. Something that’s becoming more and more common lately. "I'm fine."

Izuku huffs. "You should have slept when I did!"

"Then, I would have miss out on your snoring,” he teases.

Izuku lets out a scandalized squeak. "I-I don't snore!" he protests. Katsuki waits, letting Izuku anxiously stew in the silence and then, almost shyly, he asks, "Do I? Was it awful?"

Katsuki's fingers hasn't ease up from his mouse and keyboard even with Izuku's voice filling his ears. "I guess only I'll know now."

"Not fair." Izuku lets out a pitiful whine—a petulant, sulky thing that he rarely shows to his fans. "I'm going to ask chat about it."

"I have you muted on stream." Katsuki glances over his Twitch chat, pulled right alongside their discord call, and it's a floodgate of noise.

His chat quickly flies by with spam of "DEKU", "he's awake?!", "let us hear him", and other annoying demands.

Some bold asshole even says, "stop gatekeeping deku from us," and Katsuki bans him outright.

"Shut the fuck up." He sneers. "You're Twitch chat, you guys have no rights here."

"Are you being mean to chat again?" Izuku asks, amused.

Katsuki doesn’t think Izuku has his chat open right now, but Izuku is used to the caustic relationship Katsuki has with his viewers by now that he doesn’t need to see it to be part of this conversation.

"No," he says, rolling his eyes. "I'm correcting their dumb misconception that they can tell me what the fuck to do. They should realize that when they're on my stream that this is a dictatorship and not a democracy."

He can already see the deluge of protest from chat.

"Well, tell them I said hi," Izuku says, stupidly fearless even with Katsuki's cold rebuttal.

"No," he says, equally as obstinate. "I'm not telling chat shit."

A flood of, "what did Deku says?!" fills up his entire screen.

"He said, shut your whore mouth," Katsuki snarls at his monitor. It's as if they haven't learned anything at all. He trained them better than that.

"Deku, wouldn't ever say that to us!" chat cries out.

Izuku sputters in disapproval. "Kacchan, don't tell them lies! I adore you, chat!" he says, as though chat can hear him.

Deku as a streamer is widely known to have cultivated a warm and comfy environment for his viewers, and in turn they're mostly well behaved under his influence. In contrast, Katsuki's tyrannical rule over his stream is so notorious that it seems to nurtured a rebellious energy in his viewers that thrive in the chaos.

They're mouthy little fuckers with a penchant for riling him up that sometimes he feels like he's the single father to unruly children, and somehow, he managed to drag Izuku onboard now as their new stepparent, but in place of burning rage and jealously over Izuku’s presence, there's worshipful adoration instead.

Frankly, it's quite irksome that his chat would often become almost docile whenever Izuku is around, so much so that Izuku truly believes they're well-trained. These two-faced demons.

He grits his teeth. "Don't coddle them or they'll get the dumb idea that you like them."

"I do, I do like them! I think they're good bunch of people," Izuku insists loudly in his ears. Just as Katsuki about to snap back another biting retort about that, he continues, "They say Twitch chat is a reflection of their streamer. And they're your chat, so how can I not?"

Katsuki's character on screen suddenly freezes and a ball of flames shoots through him. His character falls and a GAME OVER text to appears over his dead body.

"L," chat spams. "KEKW, loser! L + ratio, my streamer is bad!"

"Shut up the fuck up, my mouse bugged out," Katsuki says, but it doesn't have the usual bite or convincing tone to it.

"Oh, did you die again?" Izuku asks, and he can hear Izuku's feet hitting the floor.

He’s moving about, frantic like a hummingbird. His vtuber model barely manages to capture how he’s constantly in motion, how lively and how expressive he can be. His viewers will never see the real Izuku behind his model. And Katsuki likes it that way.

"No," Katsuki responds as he quickly resets the stage.

A beat, then Izuku says, "I'll pull up your stream and check."

"Don't open my stream!" Katsuki snaps.

"I'll just ask chat then." He hums thoughtfully. "They wouldn't lie to me."

Katsuki glances over at his chat where they're still happily spamming L, but between that some people are very comfortable with exposing him: "He died! Come and watch Dynamight die for the hundred times already with us LOL!"

Then, he sees a familiar username with a 5-year sub badge on his channel: "watching him speedrun GAME OVER is so boring, pls dont leave us alone with him again, deku!!"

The disloyalty is truly fucking appalling. He should ban them all. "You have my entire chat bewitched," Katsuki grumbles. The words slipped pass him before he can even process what he said. "W-wait, I didn't mean—"

"Sorry, what did you say? I was washing my face, so I didn't get that," Izuku asks. There's a distinct sound of water running in the background that Katsuki hadn’t notice until now.

That he solely places the blame on his dumb chat.

"Nothing," he says quietly, against the flood of, "we love deku!" that appears on his monitor. "Pathetic," he scolds at their shameless display. He didn’t train them to be this laughable lot.

Izuku makes a confused noise. "Huh?"

"Entertain these plebs while I go to the bathroom," Katsuki says, instead of answering him. "I'll unmute you now."

"Oh, okay. I'll pull chat up on my phone then," Izuku says, clearly befuddled by Katsuki's sudden strange demeanor, but determines to fulfill his new duty anyway.

Katsuki pauses the game that he been grinding away for hours, taking little to no rest in between, and dying way too many times. At this moment, he hasn't felt this tired in the last eighteen hours, but juggling both Izuku and chat's antic seem to exhaust him out so easily. Mentally and physically.

He pretends that it has nothing else to do with his earlier fumble or Izuku's overly enthusiastic voice in his ear. If chat is reflection of the streamer like Izuku said earlier, then what does it say about him that his chat is completely and stupidly besotted with Izuku?

Fuck, he can't let himself dwell on that thought.

That is a shithole he does not want to be stuck in. Call him a coward, or whatever the fuck, but he's not having it right now. So, he escapes. He quickly heads over to OBS to put the Discord's audio back on. "You're live." Is all the cue he gives, before muting himself.

"Hi, chat," Izuku cheerfully greets them without missing a beat. Neither Katsuki and chat can see his face, but it does nothing to marred the joyful warmth that emanates from his voice. 

"It's Deku-san, my dark and deprived soul is finally healed," some idiot says.

Getting up from his seat, Katsuki scoffs. Thank fucking god, stupidity isn’t contagious.

He heads toward his bathroom as Izuku's spirited voice filters through his headphone.

"How are you guys? I just woke up if it isn't obvious." Izuku laughs, light and airy, reverberating in his ears. The corners of Katsuki’s lips tug upward ever so slightly. "No, I didn't eat anything yet,” he continues. “What do you think I should eat then? Oh, tamagoyaki? That does sounds good right now!"

While Izuku isn't known for his skillful gaming or expertise, but his just chatting stream easily raked in 30k viewers on a normal day. When he talks, it’s like he's singling you out even among thousands; on Twitch where the viewers are anonymous face, just a number and text on the monitor, Izuku makes them feel like a person.

Katsuki doesn't get it. His viewers sub and donate to him just to see him be the best at the video games, trash talk and occasional badmouth them, so he doesn't understand the kind of thoughtfulness in which Izuku pay attention to either his own chat or Katsuki's, but it makes want him zealously guard his time alone with Izuku.

"Did you have fun with Kacchan while I was asleep? It was hellish you say? Awe," Izuku says, voice tinged with obvious amusement. Katsuki can almost see the wide grin on his face right now. "I'm sure you guys had a lovely time with him. The number of viewers didn't drop at all since I slept. What, he did not hold you guys hostage!" he says, torn between horrified and delight.

Katsuki's eye twitches. He shouldn't have left them alone. It could only end in disaster from. So, he rushes to finish his business as quickly as possible as Izuku's conversation with chat continues play out in his ears.

"Yes, I'll be streaming later today! Oh, wait there's this new co-op game that I want to try with Kacchan. Do you think he would like to play with me, chat?" Izuku asks, like chat knows shit about him and what his thought is. "It's kind of casual and slow-pace, so not his usual type of games, but I like it. I'm not sure he would enjoy it though..." Disappointment heavy in his voice.

Sensing immediate danger, Katsuki hurries back to his desk and just in time to catches a text to speech donation, declaring: "Deku, even if he doesn't like it and it's the most boring game ever, he'll play it with you because he's a certifiable si—"

"Enough of that crap," Katsuki hisses, turning off the text to speech and any further donation alert. He unmutes himself on discord. "What game is it?" he asks, before Izuku can make any other comment on the last donation. He blocked the ‘S’ on his chat for a reason, but that doesn’t stop his chat from trying to circumvent it. These bold fuckers.

"Oh, uh," Izuku says, sounding slightly distracted. "Well, it's you know kinda like a farming game. We build a house, tend the land, and breed livestock. Very casual and laid-back."

Katsuki narrows his eyes. "So, it is a farming game."

"You can fight monsters in the dungeons!" Izuku defends.

"Thrilling," he says dryly. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Get one of your vtuber friends to play with you. I'm not interested."

Expectedly, a wave of various, "Don't be mean to Deku-san!" floods his chat, but Katsuki is unfazed. "Play with him, ASSHOLE!" they insist.

Katsuki sneers at the wall of texts. "Not budging." Chat thinks they can bully him into caving. They're so fucking dumb.

"Oh," Izuku says quietly. Dangerously. "Well, we haven't played a game together in a while since you been training for that Apex Twitch Rivals event." Then, even more quietly, he adds, "I miss playing with you." He sounds small and defeated. It’s maddening.

Katsuki grits his teeth, tightening his hand around his mouse. "Fine,” he spits.

"WEAK!!!" someone calls him out, and that gets the entire chat rolling.  

"You'll played with me?!" Izuku asks, sounding so goddamn excited it's like trying to hold the fucking sun of shining.

That makes it almost bearable.

Almost.

A spam of KEKW fills up his monitor with colorful commentaries, and Katsuki is deeply regretting his career choice in streaming now. This is going to get fucking clipped and posted on r/livestreamfail, he just knows it. And a bunch of dumbass people who has no business sharing their opinion will let Katsuki hear all about it.

"Just tell me when," Katsuki says resignedly.

"We can do it right now!" Izuku declares, and there's a flurry of movements coming from his side. "I'll just hop on my PC."

Katsuki stares at their discord call that been going on for eighteen hours now and how he hadn't slept much, but he finds himself saying, "Give me the name of the game."

An explosion alert suddenly pops on his stream, which shocks Katsuki a little because all the donation were turned off except for the 50,000yen and nobody fucking uses it, until now that is: "And you called us pathetic, ha! S-I-M-P."

And Katsuki has nobody to blame, but himself.

Chapter Text

The numbers flood into his living area like a group of gawking tourists. With eyes wide, they are greeted with dry white walls, hard surfaces, and monotone furnishing in a sparse, open space. It's cold, impersonal and—

"Wow, it's like a serial killer live here," No.3 says with such a candid honesty that it’s almost brutal.

"Inappropriate," No.1 scolds, glaring at her sister.

"Sorry, nee-chan," No.2 says cheekily, and when No.1's glare doesn't seem to lighten up, she quickly turns back to Katsuki. "Oh, right. Sorry, Kacchan!" she says, smiling sheepishly. "Your home is, er, nice. It's very clean!"

No.1 sighs, lip pinching in a clear show of exasperation as Katsuki snorts.

When he bought this penthouse, he had just started his agency so he didn't have time to decorate. He ended up giving the task over to his assistant. That was a mistake, but it's not like he spends that much time here anyway to fix it.

"C'mon, let's explore," No.3 says, already running rampant in the living space and not even bothering to wait for No.1's reply, who still hasn't made any movement; steady as a rock against the whirlwind of her sister's antics.

"Move it," No.2 says, abruptly pushing pass Katsuki. "Akira, you idiot, I told you to wait for me." He glares at No.3's back heatedly.

No. 3 turns around and greets him with a scowl. "Kouki," she scoffs. "I said hurry up! You're so slow." No.2's lips thins out unhappily, but No.3 waves him forward. "Come, check this thing out with me! It’s so ugly!"

No.4 pokes his head out from behind No.2 and approaches Katsuki with careful steps and a pair of familiar green eyes, so round and big that it looks like it could swallow his whole face. "Is this your home, Kacchan?" he asks curiously as he watches No.2 joins up with No.3 over at the bronze sculptor of a baby riding an elephant that his assistant bought him. It really is ugly.

Katsuki doesn't consider this penthouse as his home. It's more of a place that sometimes he crash in or when he's reminded, he actually has permanently residence beside his office, but he doesn't think that's an answer for six years old can understand.

"Yea," he says instead.

No.4's face lights up and immediately takes it as permission to get comfortable, running toward the large white couch in front of them with his little legs. He hops on it excitedly, waving at them. "It bounces!" he declares, grinning widely like that’s such a novel concept.

That does something to his cold, dead heart. How appallingly cute, Katsuki thinks and immediately kills it before he gets any weird idea. 

"Get off the couch, Hikaru," No.1 orders, quickly rushing to him. She doesn't so much as run, but walk very fast and full of intent, not a single hair out of place. "You're going to fall."

"I'm not, Yuko-neechan!" No.4 insists, but stop jumping anyway and slides off of the seat.

He heads off in the opposite direction of the troublesome twins, still stuck on the sculptor for some reason, with No.1 closely trailing after him and not letting him out of her sight.

Katsuki can only watch helplessly as his living room, place of resident, is infiltrated by these small, inquisitive tyrants.

A soft, familiar laughter enters his ear. "They're curious little things, aren't they?" Izuku says, sliding up beside him. "Sorry for all the commotion. And thanks for opening your home to us."

In the background there's a flurry of yell from No.2 and 3, and the stampede of No.4 as No.1's heavy sigh follows him. It's boisterous. This place has never felt more crowded and alive then at this very moment. He doesn't quite hate it.

"It's nothing," Katsuki says gruffly. Evasive and dismissive in the face of Izuku's sincerity.

"We could have stay somewhere else, but you opened your home to us," Izuku continues to insists, shaking his head. "I really appreciate that since you didn't have to go that far."

Izuku's gratitude is painfully obvious, making Katsuki feels awkward because he hasn't done anything to earn it.

"I put your fucking husband in jail, it's the least I can do," he says instead, like a total ass and immediately feels the powerful urge to punch himself in the face.

Izuku blinks, seemingly taken back, but then his lips twitches. "Actually, I also helped," he corrects, much more kindly that Katsuki deserves.

He dips his head and murmurs, "More like you single-handedly put that bastard down and didn't need any help from us at all."

If the truth ever got out to the public that one of the biggest piece of shits in this decade was finally put away for good, after alluding every authority and heroes for so the longest time, and it's all thanks to his quirkless omega ex-spouse, the world would flip its shit.

"Kacchan!" No.3 calls out, standing near the hallway that lead to rest of the penthouse. "Is there a room for us to sleep?"

Her face lights up with anticipation with No.2 standing beside her, wearing that perpetual glower on his face as he stares Katsuki down from across the room.

Katsuki could easily take this brat in a fight, but maturity comes with age—is what he tries to tell himself. "There's enough room here for all of you," he finally answers her.

"Oh," No.3's eyes go wide, "why do you have so many when you live by yourself? Isn't that lonely?"

Katsuki went up against worst criminals, the vilest of villains, but children and their bluntness is truly the most potent weapon. He's stumped for once.

"You're so nosy," No.2 hisses, surprisingly coming to his aid. "He's weirdo, so of course he enjoys being alone." Or not.

Izuku clears his throat. "Sorry, they're a little, um, unfettered with their words," he says sheepishly.

That's one way to put it, when Katsuki's pride has been consistently trampled on by these small tyrants. So, really, he rather thinks of them as audacious little shits.

"They certainly got that from you," he says dryly to Izuku, who flushes a brilliant red. So honest and sincere, it’s almost cruel.

Despite the decade that they'd spent part, Izuku still knows exactly what Katsuki meant by that. He immediately shifts his attention to the kids. "Why don't you guys go and pick out your own room then?"

The obvious avoidance of Izuku's questionable parenting aside, the excitement in the air as soon as Izuku made his announcement is near palpable.

No.3 perks up and grabs No.2's hand. "Yes, let's go Kouki!"

No.2 sighs dramatically, but still lets himself be drag along anyway.

"I wanna go too," No.4 declares, quickly following after them.

No.1 stays back just long enough to glance at Izuku. "I'll make sure they stay out of trouble," she says, bearing the duty of the eldest with an absolute conviction, before she too disappears alongside her siblings.

Now it’s just him and Izuku left, which somehow feels more dangerous than it should be. Katsuki doesn’t know how to gently approach someone who lost ten years of his youth to their abusive, villainous asshole of a husband, but not once lost his faith in the world even when it'd put him through hell.

Sorry, you got lost in society's fucked up system that propped up alphas while making omegas like you into a breeding machine? Sorry, you got stuck with scummiest alpha as a mate. Sorry, your life turned into an utter horror show. Sorry, you were forced to get pregnant at sixteen and kept having to pop out spawn after spawn. Sorry, I should have—

"Thank you, Kacchan."

Startled, Katsuki finds his train of thought completely shut down with those three words.

“I appreciate you going out of your way to house us.” Izuku smiles softly. “We’re disrupting your life, yet you’re willing to accommodate us. Truly, I’m grateful for your kind gesture.”

It’s unfair, fucked up really that Izuku was subjected to ten years of abuse and forced to churn out kid after kid for a megalomaniac, but still hasn’t lost that earnest smile of his. And even thanking Katsuki for doing this one mere measly thing like opening his home to them. The bar is truly low.

His hands clench tightly. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, but the words keep escaping him.

Taking pity on him, Izuku says, “Don’t feel bad for me. I am fine. The kids are fine. And that’s all that matter in the end, so don’t waste your time with dwelling on the past.” He reaches for Katsuki’s fisted hand and unfurls it, one by one. “I don’t ask for much. Just my kids’ safety and happiness, and you provided us a place of shelter for which I’m forever grateful for.” He grins brightly.

Yea, it’s truly fucking unfair, Katsuki thinks, as his stupid heart skips a beat.

He has no defense against that. It's like Izuku had managed to find the cracks in his walls and systemically dismantled it one by one till he's left floundering helplessly. If there's ever come a day Izuku decided to walk the path of villainy, Katsuki is only the slightest worry. One thing he has learned over these past few weeks is that the love of a parent is truly fucking terrifying. It's enough to take down a nefarious criminal whom Katsuki and the authorities been hunting for years.

Izuku did it with four kids while pregnant. Fucking hell.

And this is where Katsuki, the no.1 hero who terrorizes an entire villain population enough that they run in fear at the mention of his name, finds himself scrambling for an exit in the face of Izuku's earnest gratitude.

"I have some work I need to attend to," he croaks out. "If you need anything just grab me in my study."

Before Izuku can even respond to that, Katsuki quickly makes his departure. He didn’t run, but it’s a close thing as he bypasses the numbers hollering excitedly at each other as they inspect their new bedroom.

He's not hiding. He's just adjusting. He isn't use to having his private place invaded by a squad of brats and his estranged childhood friend even though he was the one who invited them here in the first place. What the fuck was he even thinking, he laments at himself in disgust as he enters his study.

They're homeless and endanger because who know what Izuku's ex-husband's cronies got plan for them if words get out that Izuku put away their fucking boss. He just didn't expect his bachelor pad to suddenly turned into a family home with the loud rambunctious laughter of children permeating everywhere. Nothing in UA's training program had prepared him for this, but Katsuki is annoyingly stubborn and persistent to the point of stupidity sometimes as his friends like to point out.

He'll make this work. Somehow.

First, though, there's a pile of paperworks that need his attention. Half of being a hero is just plain writing endless reports, so Katsuki gets to work, letting the mindless and tedious work of filing distract him. For a moment, it takes his mind off of the noisy affair outside of his office.

This he knows well. It's familiar as he breathes.

One hour goes into two, then three, four, and next thing he knows it's 2AM and Katsuki's neck is suffering and he's fucking starving. Somewhere between the moment he'd first sat down in front of his desk till now that he’s out of his seat, it has been five whole hours. And everything is quiet.

He hears no giggles or stampeding of four pair of tiny legs running around like they're wild animals giving chase. It's almost like they no longer exist in this quiet sphere, yet it feels strangely empty with the lack of the children's chatter and laughter filling his home.

It has not been even 24 hours and these fucking brats already unsettled his routine and disrupted his space.

Katsuki sighs as his stomach rumbles, giving away of his lack of food tonight while he was preoccupied with his work. At least now, it'll be quiet while he grabs dinner.

Katsuki strolls out of his study and heads to the kitchen. The automatic lights of the hall awaken with his footsteps, flooding into the living area and the kitchen, but before he could head toward his destination his feet takes him to the guestrooms that is now occupied.

He quietly opens the first door closest to him and through the dimly lit room, he spots an unmade and empty bed. His heart quivers momentarily, as he quickly closes the door and rushes to the next room.

Nothing. No kids or Izuku. Then the next. Neither again, again, and again.

Till he runs out of rooms in the entire penthouse. And by this time, he could almost feel the pulsating beat of his heart pounding harshly against his chest the longer he couldn't find any trace of Izuku and the numbers.

Fuck. Did he let himself get too distracted that something happened?

Katsuki heads out into the living area without a second thought. He got to find them. He needs to find them. The children of one of the most wanted supervillains and their pregnant dame, it's a recipe for disaster. He should have kept a better eye on them. If anything were to happened to them, then he truly fucked up.

Before he could even speedrun out of the house, he suddenly hears: "Kacchan?" a familiar voice calls out to him not too far away. "You're still up?"

Katsuki snaps his head toward the direction of it and sees Izuku sitting on the floor in a corner of the living area with the brats surrounding him.

Their small, still form circling Izuku as though he's the center of everything, of their world. Blankets and pillows flung over their limbs and tucked under their head as they all seemingly fallen under the spell of sleep as Izuku tiredly watches over them with a fond smile.

"You're all still here," he says slowly as though not believing the sight before him.

"Of course. Where else can we go?" Izuku tilts his head curiously. "Didn't you offered us to stay with you temporarily?"

"Yes," he breathes. Stay however long you need, he didn't dare to say.

He swallows around the peripheral rock in his throat that seems to only appear whenever he's around Izuku. "You weren't in your room." Despite his effort, it comes off almost accusatory.

Izuku blinks, slightly taken but quickly recovers with a bright smile. "Were you worry?"

Immediately on the defense after being seen so thoroughly like that, he finds himself scrambling for an excuse. "I can't protect you and the brats if I don't know where you are half the time."

Which somehow only makes Izuku's smile deepens. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

Just as he about to snap out a reflective denial, Izuku's gaze drops down to No.4's head half tucked under a blanket. "The children aren't used to sleeping in a foreign environment," he continues, stroking No.4's hair. "So, I thought a little sleepover with calm their nerves."

He approaches the huddled mass surrounding Izuku, but stop short of breaking into their little private island. "Would it help if there's something to make them feel more comfortable?" he suggests hastily. He knows shit on how comfort kids. His training doesn't go beyond the usual kick, punch, and grind his enemies to the ground. His words are limited, but money? He has that in fuck ton. "I don't know what the fuck kids like these days, but whatever it is I can get it for them."

Izuku jerks up in surprise. "N-no! You don't need to do anything like that!" he insists. "They just need to time to situate themselves better—"

"No! I don't want—stop!" No.2's arm suddenly shoots out as though he's fighting something as his face scrunches up in fear. He twists and turns, battling invisible enemies that seem to haunt his dream. “Get away!”

Izuku hurriedly reaches over and soothes No.2's outburst. "It's alright, Kouki. I'm here. I got you. Don’t be afraid."

He catches No.2's arm and tucks it back down to his side as he murmurs words of comfort. No.2 is still in the grip of his nightmare as struggles against Izuku’s hold, but Izuku's squeezes his hand and kisses No.2 's forehead. And then he finally deflates, the fight burning out of him. That seems to be enough to dispel whatever had haunted No.2 earlier.

Izuku sighs in relief. In this moment he appears less like a superparent who could do anything for their kids, but someone wholely human. Tired. And alone. Bearing it all.  

"I truly believe it's the duty of the parent to ensure their children don't become the monster that they're afraid of," he says quietly, easing the pinched brows on No.2's face with his hand. "But sometimes I wonder if I'm doing enough to protect them and ensure they're walking on the right path. Am I doing right by them?"

Katsuki isn’t a dumbass. He was the top student at UA and he snatched no.1 seat not just with sheer force alone. He knows his strengths and weaknesses, so this? It's something beyond his reach. He has no problem saying that Mina is better at this emotional support then him. If only he can fucking trade place with her now.

He clears his throat. "I'm going to make some late night udon. You want some?"

Izuku flashes a small smile, sincere and unbothered by his abrupt change of topic. "I would like that, thank you."

Katsuki turns around and heads back, but he only manages a few steps before he stops and his mouth moves on its own: "If it worth anything,” he starts, swallows and pushes forward, "I think you’re doing fine job."

From behind him, he can hear an audible gasp escaping Izuku. "Oh, Kacchan." Soft and pleased.

And he doesn't stay to hear the rest, because Midoriya Izuku and his horde of brats are going to kill him. Slowly and kindly. He knows this, but he wants them here. In his house. And in his life. Fuck it.

Chapter Text

"We can't let this go on any longer," Lord Haga beseeches to the entire war room, hands gesticulating wildly. "You all must understand how serious this situation is. The future of our kingdom is at stake!"

His grave tone matches the somber mood that reflects in the weary face of the various council members.

"I recognize your concern, but it only been a month so far. It's still early," Lady Fukuda refutes, gripping the handle of her cane tightly. "We should give them some time."

"Time?" A harsh snap of a fan catches their attention. "It's exactly what we don't have." Lady Sada snorts.

Fukuda bristles. "With such an importance matter, we can't let it be compelled solely your whims."

"My whims?" Sada glares at her old rival. "I'm speaking what we're all thinking! It's because this is so important that we can't wait too long to take action! Hesitation can be costly."

Fukuda nearly rise to her feet in anger before Lord Date drags her back down into her seat. "She means well," he consoles. 

"I don't care about her vapid opinion," she huffs, "but these things take time. We can't rush it. It needs delicacy and thoughtfulness to bear fruit."

Sada purses her lips. "It's all because of those inane ideas like yours that we're in our first month already and no progress has been made yet."

"Then what do you suggest? We should have just forced it instead of letting it occur naturally?" Fukuda frowns, shaking her head. "That's not right."

"Is it really time to think about right or wrong when we have to consider our people’s need?" Sada insists loudly, voice rising above the ruckus. "Or do you not care about the future of our kingdom?!"

"That's not what I said—" Fukuda begins, but is drowned out by other dissenting voices filling the room.

"I agree with Sada, we have to take necessary action—"

"No, you're crazy! We should—"

"Perhaps, we should lower our voices and talk this over like proper ladies and gentlemen—"

"It's like you all had forgotten what it's like to deal with this in your old age. This requires—"

Lady Keema clears her throat and that's enough to silence everyone as she takes control of the room with a wave of her hand. "All your opinions are valid and I thank you for your passionate views," she says diplomatically, "but shouldn't we address the other half of the concerned party here?"

Thirteen pair of eyes turn toward the seat at the head of the table where Bakugou Katsuki, the reigning Furie, has been brooding in his seat with an increasingly sour look on his face for the past hour.

"Are you all done yelling at each other about my marital life?" He sneers.

Haga's weathered face, carved by many decades on the battlefield, frowns. "It's only because we care," he asserts. "The seed of our kingdom is in jeopardy. Has the consort shown any change in feelings toward you?"

Katsuki scoffs. "Am I his keeper? I can't read his fucking mind."

"Then there haven't been an effort toward building an emotional connection to him?" Keema prods with a concern look. "You had at least make an attempt to have a meal with him once a day, right?"

Katsuki scowls. "I been busy! And besides, it's not like we have that much to talk about either."

Keema gives him a look of complete disappointment like he's five again and she can guilt trip him into behaving. Un-fucking-likely. Katsuki has long outgrown that shit. He's the ruler of his kingdom and she isn't his wetnurse anymore, not that she seems to care about semantics.

Keema stands up, her small figure seemingly towering over him easily despite his large stature on her. "You are wedded. He is your consort," she says. "Your heartsoul. Talk to him. Know him. Love him. Do what is necessary for the sake of our future."

"Just say you want us to fuck, so you can have an heir to raise,” he snaps. He would rather march into another war before he has to deal with being interrogate by his advisors about his marital strife.

"If that would help," Keema says with no hesitation. "Please sleep with the consort."

During the majority of his childhood, Katsuki's parents were far too busy fighting off foreign invaders from their border, so he was single-handedly raised by Lady Keema whose iron wills had helped shape him into the person he is today; in other words, she does not put up with any of his bullshit.

While Katsuki can bully his council members into obedience when their insistence blabbering annoy him, it's hard to scare someone like Keema who'd practically wiped his ass since he was a kid.

Katsuki smiles, but it has a sharp, biting edge to it. "You're more than welcome to be an audience in our bed chamber," he offers.

He eases into his seat with enough comfort that spoke of the confident of someone who knows his place in the room; it's the head of this table.

This does not impress Keema as her eyes flutter imperceptibly.

"That would not be necessary, Your Holiness," Haga quickly interjects before it can further descend into any bloodshed between them. "We only wish to help."

"Marriage can be a challenge navigate for a newly wedded couple," Fukuda adds. "It's understandable if you're having a difficult time."

Katsuki frowns, irritated at their insinuation. "We're doing fine," he insists, but it sounds hallow even to his ears. "He and I don't fight."

"It would be really hard to fight when you two barely even see to each other," Keema says dryly, siting back down in her seat and looking upon him with heavy skepticism. "Wouldn't it be nice if you could use that mouth you were born with to communicate with the consort more?"

Unable to rebuttal, Katsuki scowls.

A flurry of chatter abruptly erupts in the room as everyone seems to have a certain impression of his and Izuku's relationship stuck in their head and plans on how to resolve their various non-existence issues.

“A moment please.” Lady Ogane raises her voice above the noise. "It's a little crass to say this," she startgs, "but perhaps it's a problem of intimacy that's making things difficult for the couple?"

Silence cuts through the commotion.

"Are you suggesting that the Furie lack the skill to bed the consort properly?!" Haga asks incredulously, clutching his chest in horror.  

Katsuki's left eye twitches.

"There's nothing wrong with his prowess in bed," Haga continues to blabber on like Katsuki actually need defending. "Even if that was the case, his inexperience would only allow for him to grow."

Katsuki could feel the grip his sanity loosening with each word that passed Haga's lips.

Ogane’s eyes widen in appall. "That wasn't what I said!" she protests, face pinches as she sends him a heated glare. "It says a lot about you that your first thought led you to the bedchamber rather than just thinking I had meant a more interpersonal development between them, Lord Haga." 

Being called out like that in front of all his peers flustered Haga enough that he tries to muster up a comeback. "Plenty of new couples have had problems with consummation of their marriage and the Furie is no exception to this. It's perfectly reasonable to assumed that was what you meant!"

It doesn't take much to pressed upon everyone here that Haga had reversed his earlier stance where the assumption was that Katsuki’s lacked the expertise in the bedroom was slanderous to now saying that yes, Katsuki is very much new at this and his ignorance is to be expected.

The betrayal would have hurt Katsuki less if it didn't happen within the span of minutes. Haga, who taught him how to hold a sword and fought by his side through several battles, was his greatest defender and traitor. The flimsy loyalty in his subjects is truly appalling. He should just abuse his power and have them all executed for their disloyalty and dissent. It would save him the headache of having to put with this asinine affair, but there wasn't even time for Katsuki to bring his plan into fruition before someone got another bright idea.

"If I may," Fukuda interjects, breaking through the tension in the room. "The Furie can try to show his affection to the consort with a hand written letter. Words on paper can be a window to the soul."

"So, you’re basically suggesting His Holiness should a write a love letter," Sada says flatly. “Like a smitten fool.”

"It's proven method," Fukuda argues. "I won my husband's hand in marriage that way."

"Your husband is an idiot for being swayed so easily like that." Sada rolls her eyes. "Instead, the Furie should take the consort out on a hunt and impress upon him with his martial skills."

Fukuda frowns. "That's not going to move the consort's heart! Courtship is all about being sentimental and thoughtfulness. You can't brute force romance!"

"It's call being engaging," Sada says testily. "Romance doesn't always have to be soft. It can also be an adventure and excitement!"

"But where's the vulnerability and poetry to it?" Fukuda asks, shaking her head. "You need to take your time with it!"

"Then we would be dead before we see any progress." Sada snorts. "It's about passion and the thrill, which clearly you would know if you weren't so boring."

"That's right, we can't wait around forever for them to open their heart to each other," someone says. "Immediate action needs to be taken."

But another dissent is quick to defend the other side’s point. "But I agree with Fukuda, love can't be pushed. It has to be nurtured carefully."

Before the room can descend into another pointless argument, Haga turns to the subject in question and pleads, "Your Holiness, please speak up and share any thought you may have on this."

Katsuki, who been bludgeoned to near death by all sides today, grits out, "I rather die." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Don't you all have something better to do? Like a fucking country to run to the ground instead of prying into my marital life?"

"Your marital life is the future of this country," Keema states. "The sooner you have children the better for us." She looks thoughtful for a second. "Three would be the ideal number, but we'll take one for now and work up from there."

"That's quite considerate of you," Katsuki says dryly. "I'll get right on fucking Izuku after this meeting end and let's hope that would do the trick."

Unfazed by his causal vulgarity, the smile that stretches across her face is mocking. "If that would have worked the first time around, then we wouldn't be here right now discussing your lack of progress, but that's assuming you managed to even coupled at all since then."

A gasp escapes.

Nobody knows where it came from, but the scandalized face that reflect in each of the them said that it doesn't matter because they all think the same: the Furie hadn't bed the consort yet.

It been a month already, so how can that be?! It's just absurd. Ridiculous. Impossible.

Katsuki bangs his fist on the table and sends a menacing glare to the occupants of the room. "Speak and I'll have your fucking head right now," he growls. 

And that's enough to shut them all. It's the first time all day that Katsuki has gain some upper traction in the meeting. But it doesn't last long. It never could.

Fearless even in the face of tyranny, Keema says, "No need to be so combatant, Your Holiness. We're all here to help you."

"I. Do. Not. Want. Your. Help," Katsuki carefully enunciates each word, bristling for a bloody fight with her.

Keema stares at him, their eyes meeting in a clash of wills. Then, just like that she breaks away and sighs. "Your stubborn pride will not only cost us a future, but it won't win you any favor either," she says, with the same chiding tone that she used to lecture him as a child. "This is a marriage, a partnership, so if you're not willing to open your heart and communicate with each other, it will only foster misery and resentment in your relationship. You cannot raise a child in that kind of toxic environment.” The weight of her gaze on him is heavy. “Do you want your future children thinking they're not wanted and loved?"

Her words were cold and callous, yet she was kind in her delivery. That what makes it even worse.

Katsuki groans and looks at all the people in the room, the worry on their face and the sincerity in their eyes. With his walls finally dropped, he asks, "What the fuck should I do then?"

And with that, it unleashed a storm of opinions raining down on him. Suddenly, everybody got a fucking idea of the perfect romance, the way of courtship, and the how-tos of wooing. This is how I won over my beloved, they proudly brag while Katsuki regrets opening his mouth.

These are some of the most powerful members of his court, who wield incredible influence in their respective field, yet here they are fiercely debating the merit of flowers as a romantic gesture.

"Flowers are a classic. You just cannot go wrong with it," Ogane suggests.

Sada gives a derisive snort. "Not if that person doesn't like flowers to begin with."

Ogane turns to Katsuki. "Then does the consort like flowers?" she prods curiously.

Katsuki presses his lips together, finding that to be an extremely difficult question all of a sudden.

When the silence stretches beyond what could be consider a normal length, Haga sighs as he drags a hand down his face. "Your Holiness, it has been a whole month," he says, sounding inexplicably more tired now. "Please tell me you spoke more than ten words to each other daily."

"It didn't come up!" Katsuki defends, feeling like a grade school child who’d failed a surprised test or something. It’s the worst feeling. "It's not a topic that can be casually brought out in a conversation."

The disappointed murmurs that arise from the room cuts at him more than any sword.

"The Furie is talented in many ways and well versed in running this kingdom, but he's still lacked the means understand others on an empathic level," Keema says, all but calling him emotionally stunted while he's right the fuck there. In the room. Sharing the same air as her.

Katsuki's hands clenches, then unclenches slowly. He breathes and holds his tongue.

"Now, here what we're going to do," Keema states to the room and to Katsuki in particular.

Katsuki sits up and gears for what is to be the most important battle of his life. "I'm listening."

Two hours and several heated arguments later, where it almost broke out into three separate fist fights, Katsuki comes out of the meeting vaguely traumatized, but with a mission rooted in his head. Carrying the expectations of his entire kingdom on his shoulders, the pressure to succeed is heavy.

That weight carries him blindly right to the front doors of Izuku's palace.

"What the fuck you mean he's gone?" Katsuki demands, glaring at the cowering servant in front of him when he couldn’t locate Izuku anywhere.  

She trembles under the force of his anger, but still, she manages to say, "His Highness is at the atheneum. He's been there all morning."

Katsuki rakes a hand through his hair in annoyance. The atheneum is place full of scholars obsessed with old texts and artifacts. It's boring and dusty, and not a place the high consort should normally be found at. "What is he even doing over there?!"

The servant lowers her gaze and mumbles helplessly, "The consort said he wanted to see their books."

Stunned, but somehow not surprised Katsuki purses his lips. "Fine," he says, and quickly dismisses her.

He rushes toward the atheneum; a massive tower of stone and mortar. A gathering place and an academic center for some of the most brilliant minds in the kingdom. Here, the scholars comb over thousands of years of history and memories. It's also the least exciting area in the entire city. Katsuki would know, he was taught here when he was young; one of their best pupils.

The moment he steps foot in the tower and breathes it dry, dusty air again, it feels like coming home again. If home was an ancient tomb for lost legacy.

"Your Holiness?" one of the sages asks, surprised by Katsuki's sudden arrival. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"The consort?" Katsuki presses, before the man can say anything else. "Where he is?"

Seemingly taking back by his demand, the sage blinks before quickly composing himself with a low respectful bow of his head. "His Highness is in the Blue Room as he had requested," he answers.

Katsuki knows that room. Knows it keenly well. It's where he used to spend hours upon hours in, learning the long, bloody history of his ancestors and the legacy of fallen conquerors and what it means to rule and to serve on the behest of his people. It's where he was made.

He turns around without another word and heads off in the familiar direction, his feet retracing the path he’d used to walk all those years ago. Finally, Katsuki arrives at a thick double door and pushes through, revealing an endless walls of book that touches the ceiling, but no Izuku in sight at all.

He walks deeper in and turns a corner. Another. And another until he finally catches sight of Izuku standing on a bookshelf as he tries to reach for a book up high. His feet are several feet off the ground, hanging precariously on small landing space.

What the fuck. This idiot.

An indescribable feeling propels him forward. "Get down!" he hisses, extending his hands out as he reaches for Izuku.

Startled, Izuku tries to look back, balance swaying in the process and his foot slips from the landing. Katsuki catches him by the waist before he could fall.

His hands are wrapped around a notably thin waist under those heavy layers of robes. Izuku is often so overdressed that he didn't realize till now how small and delicate Izuku feels against him. It surprises him because Izuku carries himself with the surety of two people behind him.

While momentarily distracted, Izuku's elbow collides right into his chest so hard that it knocks the wind right out of him, causing Katsuki to drop Izuku to the floor, who easily lands on his feet.

Izuku is neither a soldier or a warrior, but he's fighter. A dirty, fucking fighter.

"You scared me," Izuku defends with a rosy, embarrassed tint to his cheeks as he steps back, putting a polite distance between them as possible.

"You didn't hear me coming in?" Katsuki raises a brow, peeved.

Izuku smiles sheepishly. "I can get lost in my head when I'm concentrating."

If Izuku wasn't so apologetic about it, Katsuki would be led to think he did on purpose for all the time Katsuki's fail in his dereliction of duty as a husband during this past month, but even though he still has much to learn about Izuku, he knows that Izuku isn't that petty.

But Katsuki is. He hunches over and lets out an exaggerate groans as he rubs the place Izuku had jabbed into. "Fuck."

"My lord?"

He could hear panic footsteps hurrying toward him, so he shoots his hand out. "Got you." He pulls Izuku in by the wrist. "Do you see me now?"

His eyes are round and huge, far too big for his small face, seemingly held in place by Katsuki's words. He drops his gaze, lashes quivering, and a moment of hesitation before Izuku tries to yank his wrist back with enough force to break Katsuki's iron grip with an annoyed huff.

Izuku steps back, putting the exact same icy distance between them. His glares at Katsuki defiantly. Green on red. Neither glancing away or backing down. "Don't joke like that," Izuku says quietly, rubbing his wrist. "That's not funny."

It's firm and chiding. And a hint of peevishness that is hard to hide.

Katsuki's lips twists in wry smile, but he doesn't apologize for it. He simply bends his head in acknowledgement. "I'll remember that next time."

Izuku's gaze breaks contact with him momentarily before it snaps back to him again. His eyes are cool and placid now, that earlier spark is gone.

"Is there anything I can help you with, my lord?" Izuku asks with a cordial smile that is so perfectly in place. It's disturbing how he easily switches off from that initial anger to something far friendlier and accommodating like he's covering up a failing on his part.

Izuku presents himself as this well-mannered and dutiful person, so effortlessly clean and boring. It makes Katsuki want to ruffle him up and shake him around, peeling back whatever mask to see the real Izuku underneath because he can't be that fucking dull like a lifeless doll.

It makes for a great consort; perfectly presentable to the public, accommodating to all, and a polite and gracious host, but a stale marriage partner if all Izuku give him is deference and a pleasantry.

It's annoying. He doesn't want to be chained down to a bore. So, Katsuki didn't bother to make an effort with Izuku. But maybe that was a mistake to begin with.

He straightens up and looks pass Izuku to the bookcase behind him. "What were you doing earlier?!" he demands.

Izuku drops his gaze, hands clenched together in front of him defensively. "I wanted to a book, but I couldn't reach it from the floor."

"Why didn't you just use your Blessing?" Katsuki stares confusedly.

Izuku looks at him, lips pressed together. "Well," he says, voice drifting off as Katsuki remembers why.

Feeling stupid, Katsuki walks over to the bookcase and touches the gold sigil carved into the side of it.

"Which book?" he asks, brows furrowing at rows and rows of endless books.

"Um, that one," Izuku says, pointing a thick tome with a red binding.

Katsuki presses his thumb into the sigil and it lights up. As though reading his mind, the book slowly pulls itself from the shelf.

"Amazing," Izuku murmurs, looking at it with a childish awe and wonder. Not a hint of resentment for what he is lacking, while others can call upon it as easy as breathing.

It stirs something in Katsuki to know in a world of gods and magic, Izuku is bless by neither; unchosen.

The book floats down into Katsuki's waiting hand. He glances down at the cover, written in bold black ink, ‘Conversations with a bedfellow of kings: the life, lies, and love.'

Katsuki frowns. "What is this—s?"

Izuku snatches the book from his hand, blushing. "It's nothing."

He clears his throat, shifty eyes and clutching the book his chest. "Is there something you need from me, my lord?" he asks again.

Katsuki's eyes are still glue to the book, but his mouth still finds a way to speak for him. "Pack your stuff. We're taking a short sabbatical."

Izuku blinks, slow and wary. "Why?"

"Think of it as a break," Katsuki says. "You get to leave the palace for once and see the mountains and lakes around here. And sniff the air or something. I won't even have any work to bother me for a while."

Izuku perks up immediately. "Who else will be coming with us?"

"It'll just be you and me," Katsuki replies.

"Oh," Izuku says, deflated.

Irritated by his lackluster reaction after knowing that they'll be alone for this entire trip, Katsuki sneers. "Is that a problem?" he demands.

Frantically shaking his head, he says, "No, not at all." He plasters on a diplomatic smile. "When are we leaving then?"

Now, it's Katsuki to look shifty. "Tomorrow afternoon."

"What?!" Izuku all but shouted.

"I can't leave Ashein to govern on its own, so I can only spare four days," he explains as he backs away. "So, get ready."

He makes the decision to leave after that, dashing for the door before Izuku can get another word in to question him further about it. This wasn't his plan; it's the old cronies who thought the couple needed to spend some alone time together to build up an emotional connection.

It sounds like a terrible idea, but he doesn't have any better solution to make this marriage work. This trip is supposed to lay down the cornerstone of their relationship, so of fucking course the morning they're about to set off, some fucking idiots decided to stage a violent uprising at the borders.

History has a tendency to exaggerate the duty of a ruler; assassination, secret affairs, and plenty of deaths. The death thing is true, but there's only so much wars Katsuki could find before someone has to drag him home so he can properly govern his ever-expansive empire.

The truth is ruling is a lot of delegation, micromanaging, calling out people when they're being a dumb shit, and squashing any disorderly before it become another full-blown war. Katsuki may like the thrill of the battle, but wars are costly in gold and men. It's always consequential.

So, it's of the utmost important that Katsuki keeps shit from turning into deeper shit.

An illegitimate eldest daughter, a younger son of the official wife, a dead lord, and no will can be found, leading to a dispute over who can sit as the rightful heir of an earldom.

It quickly spilled out into a violent altercation between the two parties, drawing different lines of loyalty from key members of Katsuki's court. This requires the kind of delicacy and diplomacy that Katsuki is poorly lacking. Something that his tutors had failed to successfully drill into him.

Katsuki won't be able to solve this easily just by making the daughter and son duel each other, and the winner gets the seat. It was a valid suggestion, but none of his advisors were happy about it. He actually has to put in the work to make sure that this doesn't get out of control.

Normally, this wouldn't be an issue itself, because as much as dealing with his annoying subjects aggravate him, they’re his people and he won't fail them, but there's now Izuku. They were supposed to leave today to spend some time alone together to work on their relationship.

It's just he can't leave now and abandoned this matter to his court.

"It's fine. I understand," Izuku says, after hearing his dilemma. His smile is reassuring, but it doesn't make it any easier.

"I'll come to you within a day," he says. "I won't leave you there by yourself."

Izuku's smile softens into something more sincere. "I'll anticipate your arrival then, my lord."

"And I'll take care of him," Keema says confidently. "Just go do your job."

Katsuki hesitates, then nods his head. He's determined to resolve this and meet up with Izuku soon.

Instead, it took Katsuki nearly three whole days to settle this matter, because everyone behaved like a fucking child throwing tantrum for not getting what they want. These are the people who sit at the top as they wield tremendous power over a mass of land and citizens. Fucking Idiots!

And now his sabbatical with Izuku is about to end and he hasn't even left the fucking palace yet while Izuku is already spending three days alone up in the royal’s mountain villa.

Katsuki has never been more frustrated and embarrassed by his own inadequacy. He'd failed in his promise. Failure is a beast lurking in the shadow, ready to jump at him as soon as he slipped up and he'd slipped up big this time. Fuck.

As soon as he wrapped up the feud, reminding all parties involved not the start any shit while he's away, he calls the stable master to get his steed ready. Going against the advisement of his guards, Katsuki rides ahead of the retinue. If he wants to make it there in time, he can't wait for them along with the servants and carriages that hold all the necessities for the trip. They're extra baggage right now that he can't afford.

From dawn to dusk, he rides through the palace walls, the capital city, and then out into the open field for nearly 10 hours straight until he reaches a spiraling villa at the base of the Mount Tsai.

The guards stationed outside jump into attention upon his haggard appearance.

"Your Holiness!" one of them exclaims in surprised. "We thought you would be here tomorrow."

"You thought wrong then," Katsuki deigns to say before marching pass them, letting determination carry his numb legs through. Dirt and sweat sticking to him like an extra layer of gunk.

"Where is he?" he demands, spotting Keema sipping her tea under a canopy by the koi pond.

Putting down her teacup, she glances up at him from her seat unfazed by his sudden arrival. "He's fine," she says, which didn't answer Katsuki's question, but somehow still answered it. "He’s been relaxing and enjoying himself in the activities around the area."

Katsuki frowns. "Did he ask for me?"

"Not a single word," she answers blithely. "The consort easily understood that you have your duty, so he didn't have much expectation from you in the first place."

He flinches as though struck. It has no right to cut as deep as any sword ever did.

As if taking pity on him, Keema sighs. "Don't take it as condemnation. The consort is a member of the royal family now, so he knows that sometimes obligation to the crown is given more priority. He isn't upset."

But that doesn't alleviate any of the tension he feels. "Let me talk to him," Katsuki insists.

"Why don't you washed up first?" she suggests, eyeing him up and down. His dishevel appearance did not impress her. "You look like you belong in the trash. The consort is relaxing right now. If you appear suddenly in front of him looking like that..." She gives him a knowing look. "Don't give him any reason to worry. Wash yourself in the hot spring first then you can meet him tomorrow. You still have one more day, make good use of it."

Katsuki's feet refuses to budge at first, but under Keema's unrelenting glare he finally gives him. "Fine. Tomorrow," he hisses.

"Ane, if you please," Keema commands the young servant girl beside her. "Make sure he's well taken care of."

Ane bows. "This way, Your Holiness."

The girl steps ahead of him, leading him away from the canopy.

"Oh, you'll thank me later for this," Keema says as she waves him off.

There's a suspicious cheeriness in her tone that set off the alarm bell in his head. He narrows his eyes, but continues to follow Ane anyway. His weary bones propelling him forward.

Katsuki doesn't have time to consider what the fuck that was about. He's too tired and aching right now; his body feels like it had taken a hard beating. Maybe a relaxing soak in the hot spring can cool his head and wash away the exhaustion that cling to every muscle in his body.

Ane leads him toward a secluded and private outdoor area. Surrounded by bamboo walls, the hot spring is situated in a natural reservoir created by the dormant volcano the villa is built on. Beyond the bamboo walls he can hear running water and feels the hot air seeping through.

"If you need anything else, please call me," Ane says, before begging her leave.

Katsuki makes a grunt of acknowledgement and starts to disrobe as Ane heads back out. He strips down to the bare essential, taking a towel with him as he opens the door to the outdoor hot spring.

A fog of hot air clouds his vision and all he sees are the murky water and shadowy figures of overcast trees and boulders. Katsuki sighs as he makes his way inside. He dips his foot and sinks in till he hears a very distinct scream coming a few feet in front of him.

"P-pervert!"

This was a fucking setup. Can't even trust any of his advisor now.

Katsuki quickly turns away, but not before catching sight of damp hair clinging to flushed skin and large, round eyes staring at him in shock. Bared shoulders and collarbones above water; it's obscenity.

"What you are doing here?!" Izuku demands. His tone accusatory.

Katsuki swallows, the hot, damp air making it hard for him to think. Flashes of bared skin haunts him, repeating over and over in his head. Quickly, he stomps it down like roaches. It cannot be allowed to fester. To overrun in his head.  

He clears his throat. "I was led to believe this was a private bath." Pauses. "For one."

Silence. It's nearly unbearable.

The humid air and hot water, Izuku only a few feet away from of him, and they both equally exposed and vulnerable, this wasn't how he'd imagine their reunion to be.

"Ah, I see," Izuku murmurs, finally realizing the mastermind behind their awkward situation now. Tension releases from his voice. "Did you just arrive?"

Katsuki nods, but still refuses to look at Izuku. Rather he finds the wall of rocks in front of him suddenly very interesting.

Katsuki fought many battles, saw people lost their limbs and bleed from their orifices, and sit by the side of a comrade as he breathed his last breath. He seen it all, blood and destruction and horrors of living and dying. It didn't scare him, but now he's afraid what he'll see if he looks at Izuku.

The spring is outdoor with plenty of space and everything in between them, but Katsuki feels confined. Suffocated. Every noise is suddenly magnified. Izuku’s drawn-out breathes. The swishing sound of the water highlights even the slightest movement from him. It's aggravating, because Katsuki can almost see it. Imagine it.

Sometimes what the mind conjured up is worst then the reality.

"You—" Izuku say, breath hitches. It's loud and clear as though it blew right into Katsuki's ear. "Don't look."

He clenches his hand under the water, nails digging into his palm. The heat is getting to him, making his head fuzzy. Muddled. A hazy fog over him.

"I'm not," he grinds out, shaking his head. He can't. Fuck. He stands up, doesn't care if he's buck fucking naked and can hear Izuku's muffled squeak from behind him.

"What are you—?" he asks, shocked.

"I'm out," Katsuki growls. This is a damn trap. He's an idiot if he chooses to stay.

A surge of wave moves forward, sloshing loudly as it hits the edge of the hot spring, then a hand grips his wrist. It anchors him in place. Wet skin on wet skin.

"W-wait, don't go," Izuku pleads. His touch burns hotter than the rapid heat that is taking over Katsuki's head. "I'm done, so you can have the bath instead." His voice is quiet, but reverberates in Katsuki's ears. "You must be tired from your long travel. The hot spring here is good for easing the ailing body."

Even when Katsuki had obviously wronged him, Izuku's first thought is on him.

"Gracious. Kind. And, most of all, someone who allow you to be selfish with your duty as a ruler, putting the kingdom first," Keema had told him. "These are the qualities we're looking for in your consort."

But to Katsuki it sounds less like a partnership and more of servitude.

It's all the more aggravating because he would have preferred anger than this gentle consideration. He doesn't deserve any of it.

"I don't need it. I'm fine," he says gruffly. He can't make out Izuku's face, but the hand around his wrist doesn't lighten.

"You don't look it." He can hear the frown in Izuku's voice. It's condemning. "Stop trying to be noble and take the bath. You need it with the way you smell right now."

Katsuki rips his wrist out of Izuku's hold, turning around, but the slight hitch coming from Izuku has him reversing course.

"How come you're so insolence when there's nobody else around," he scolds, rolling his eyes as he reacquaints himself with the rocks. It's less of a rebuke, but more of a revelation than anything. That veneer of politeness is easily scratched off once Katsuki picked at it hard enough.

"That's not true, I have the most utmost respect for you," Izuku says, voice light and airy through the heavy haze of the hot spring. Every word chosen with care and somehow it still leaves Katsuki doubtful. "If you would please close your eyes while I get out of the spring."

Katsuki sighs, shutting his eyes. Darkness quickly encases him as he hears the whooshing of the water as Izuku moves pass. They don't touch, but the heat emanating from Izuku's body and a note of soft, fuzzy peach lingers in the air. Close enough that it teases all his senses.

With his eyes closed he can't see anything, but even the slightest sound is enhanced; Izuku's breathy exhales and waterlogged footsteps play in his ears.

Katsuki sinks into the water as though he can hide himself from the potent allure of his own husband. It's fucking appalling.

"Have a good wash, my lord," says Izuku, oblivious to Katsuki's inner turmoil. "I'll be taking my leave now."

"Wait," he calls out suddenly, because he's not a complete asshole. He didn't forget. "Tomorrow morning, come with me to the lake. There's something I want you to see."

"Oh." It's a curious little slip, but it also says nothing at all. "Is that so?" He's not letting Katsuki go that easily.

He makes a face. "Would you like to go to the lake with me?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Izuku says.

He can't see it, but he hears it in Izuku's voice. There's a smile. Katsuki knows it. It's in the tilt of Izuku's words and the promise he made. He'll be there.

Katsuki opens his eyes just in time to see Izuku's back slipping through the door and wet tendrils of hair clinging to his nape before he's truly gone for good.

He turns around and leans his head back against the edge of the spring, letting out a long, weary exhale as his body finally feels the heat sinking in. This entire interaction with Izuku was more mentally tiring than mediating a border dispute and the rushed journey to get here.

Katsuki has learned to navigate the turbulent water of the court, but the ebbs and flows of his husband's mood is something he's only starting to figure out. Whoever had first suggested the idea of trading Katsuki’s hand in marriage, and possibly in his sanity, for peace should have been executed right there and then. He would take a hundred more battles then this marital dance of theirs. Izuku is going to be the death of him, and he’ll do it kindly and softly. And worst of all, Katsuki couldn’t even say he doesn’t deserve it.