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Katsuki wiped his hand across his brow, the Grecian sun beating down on him as he laid in the sand on the beach. It was easy to pretend like this, like it as just him and Eijirou back in the cave, taking a break between sparring. But it fucking wasn’t.
Because he’d been sparring someone useless soldier, while Eijirou was running from strategy meeting to strategy meeting, trying to figure out a way to breach the walls of Troy. They’d been trying to do it for weeks to no avail and Katsuki could see the stress getting to Eijirou.
This battle wasn’t winnable. They were losing and it was fucking pointless. An unwinnable battle in an unwinnable war all over a fucking girl. Aizawa’s voice echoed in his head, always faithful to their leaders. “It's not just a girl. It’s about honor.”
Honor, Katsuki’s ass, this was petty and he only liked entering wars they could actually win. That was his and Eijirou’s whole fucking deal.
Katsuki stormed into the tent, purposefully five minutes late to Eijirou’s meeting. Sure, Eijirou was the best warrior in Greece, blessed by the gods and half god himself, but everyone know he wouldn’t do anything without Katsuki. And Katsuki liked rubbing that into everyone’s faces.
Once Katsuki sat down at Eijirou’s right, ignoring the other general’s glares, Aizawa started talking. The only one unphased by Katsuki’s brattiness. Katsuki huffed.
“Kirishima. You have to kill Hector. It’ll destroy the king inside the city.” Aizawa pauses to gauge his reaction before continuing, “His only son, killed by the legendary son of the gods, something nothing can reverse. It might provide enough that he breaks. And the troops will love it.”
Katsuki knew he already loved it. A victorious battle and the ability for this whole thing to be over so he and Eijirou can be back home, in their bed, with their days golden and free in front of them. That’s what Katsuki wants, maybe even more than victory.
Eijirou lets the silence stretch out in front of them though, considering, before he starts talking for the first time that meeting.
“Why would I kill him? What has Hector ever done to me?”
Later that night, after Eijirou has fallen asleep and Katsuki is sharpening his sword outside their tent, Aizawa approaches him. He has a plan. It doesn’t have to be Eijirou. It just has to look like it is. A logical deception to end this war early without making Eijirou do something he doesn’t want to do.
Katsuki loved it. Fuck yeah, he’ll put on Eijirou’s stupid red armor and helmet and pretend to be him. Yeah, Eijirou’s built like a brick shit house and has fifty pounds of muscle on Katsuki, but fuck that because no one will pay attention to that on the battlefield. And Eijirou will hate it but that’s fine because he’ll be halfway to the front lines by the time Eijirou wakes up.
Katsuki goes into their tent, kissing Eijirou on the head, grabs his knife from beside their bed, and leaves. He’ll take Eijirou’s wrath when he gets back with the tides turned. It’ll be worth it.
Katsuki loves battle, the rush of war and adrenaline in his blood. It wasn’t always like that but life made him angry, and violence gave him somewhere to put it. And here, at the base of the walls of Troy, it was finally put to good use. He knew that he wasn’t expected to kill Hector, just get close enough to show that it was an option. Rattle some cages, spook some higher ups.
But out here, being treated like he was the legendary Kirishima, slicing through enemies like they were nothing but a strong breeze; Katsuki knew he could. He could fucking kill Hector and he was going to.
He charged forward, raising his sword to deal the final blow, not realizing that Hector was doing the same.
His sword hit Hector, but it glanced off his shoulder. Hector’s spear wasn’t so unlucky, and struck Katsuki straight through.
Katsuki’s last thought was this: Eijirou.
Thetis won’t let Katsuki pass on. That fucking hag won’t let him rest so he’s stuck in limbo. And being stuck in limbo means he sees what happens. Means he suffers a fate worse than death: getting to see...everything.
This: Aizawa returning from battle, tears falling down his face holding his body. Yells going up throughout the camp, and Eijirou emerging from his tent. Katsuki is helpless, stuck in limbo with no eyes to close so he has to see it.
This: Eijirou falling to his knees, letting out a cry of anguish. Katsuki can feel it in his fucking bones and he doesn’t even have bones anymore. Everyone comes running, sure that someone’s hurt. Someone is.
This: Eijirou pushing Aizawa away as he tries to comfort him, ripping Katsuki’s body from his arms. Beyond tears, beyond anything. Aizawa tries to respond, tries to get through to him but Eijirou ignores him.
This: Nothing. A week and Katsuki floats between worlds, between consciousnesses and nothing changes. Eijirou cries. Eijirou screams. Eijirou refuses to leave, refuses to bath, refuses to let them take Katsuki’s body to perform the funeral rites. Not that it matters, even with his body burnt to ash like the towns they’d destroyed together, Katsuki will still be here. Watching Eijirou break apart. Helpless for the first time is goddamn li- for the first time.
Finally, finally. Eijirou lets them take his body once it starts to smell. Let’s Kaminari bathe him, let’s the generals talk to him. Let’s Sero convince him to let Aizawa back in the strategy tent. It’s something. The seat at his right stays empty. Katsuki tries not to be pleased by that.
This: Eijirou putting on his armor. Katsuki’s blood has been washed off but Eijirou traces his fingers over it like he remembers where it was. He probably does. The tears are hidden by his helmet and his hands shake as he grabs his sword. Everyone ignores it. Katsuki can’t. He was never tender when he was alive but now all he wants is to take Eijirou’s hands and cradle them in his. And he fucking can’t.
Katsuki is paralyzed. He imagines himself on his back, floating in a void sea, with the salt of stars buoying his body. It doesn’t matter what he imagines though, it doesn’t change the facts. He’s fucking dead. He’s fucking helpless. He’s fucking watching Eijirou tear himself apart.
Watching Eijirou on the battlefield, doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t; tearing himself apart for a war that means nothing to him. Meant nothing to him. Now there’s only this. The blood of Trojans stains Eijirou’s armor. The parallels to Katsuki’s blood isn’t lost on him and he knows it isn’t lost on Eijirou. Except this is a paralytic for Katsuki, but it only fuels Eijirou forward.
Forward, to kill hundreds of Trojans; a new record. Forward, to kill Hector; evening the score. Forward, to raze Troy to the ground; victory against Hector wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
Troy begs for mercy, and Eijirou smiles. Or as close as he can get now, with Katsuki gone. The smiles is vicious, merciless. It looks like his own. He hates it.
This: Athena raises a river to bring Eijirou down. Guides an arrow to strike true and hit his heel, his one weakness. Athena who puts down a gods’ son because it was too much. All because Katsuki died. Eijirou is wild with grief. Katsuki watches.
This, finally this: Eijirou’s ashes falling into his. Thetis telling him it’s true, he can go. He mentally flips her off as he feels them settle.
This: Eijirou’s hand reaching towards him. They don’t have bodies, they don’t have hands but it’s a hand nonetheless.
This: Eijirou’s voice calling out to him.
“Come!”