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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The scent of blood thickened the air. It rose, sharp and familiar, to Katsuki’s nose, fresh and slick on the battleground as he stepped over the dead. Near him, a great red dragon ripped bodies free of their clothes and tore them apart with shining white fangs.

He wiped his blade clean on the corpse closest, slipping it back into his belt. The defending force had been small, small enough that his vanguard wiped it out easily, but such a clean, decisive victory was very satisfying. His flag snapped in the wind above the fortress, his standards untouched.

Fires had been lit, his warriors celebrating the easy win, raiding the stores of their enemy to feast upon. Savage pleasure coursed through his veins as he gazed upon the darkening horizon, bold red, baring his teeth to it.

The moment the treaty had expired, Katsuki had ordered his army to march. They knew he was coming, and that made his triumphs all the richer.

He’d rip out the throat of this pathetic little country, and there was nothing they could do to stop him.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Leaving home was the dumbest thing he’d ever godsdamn done.

All Katsuki had wanted was an adventure, to go out and explore like the warriors and dragon riders did. He had been chosen by a dragon, he’d earned his fang, so he didn’t see why it was such a fucking issue for him to go.

His parents had forbidden it, and just to spite them, he’d hidden away in a food cart, bound for the outer reaches and snuck off after a few days. From there, he’d hopped from shipment to shipment, sometimes sleeping out under the stars, Akaishi curled up on his chest.

It was thrilling, it was fun, him and his dragon on the open road. Of course, when it was found he was missing, word caught up with him quickly.

In his desperation, he’d hidden in another cart. But it had been secured tightly, and he realised too late it was being taken to a neighbouring kingdom, one his family had a fragile peace with.

He knew he was in trouble. Back home, he was the best fighter his age, a dragonblood royal already chosen. Here…? He was a bargaining chip at best. It was an unpleasant thought, being used against his own people.

They’d searched the carts at an outpost, found him almost instantly. He wasn’t too worried about his own safety; if anything did happen to him, the Empire would crush this kingdom into little bloody pieces. But then the guards reached for Akaishi, his dragon, his partner, thinking he couldn’t understand their tongue, openly speaking of taking her back to their pissblooded king. Katsuki could never allow that.

He stabbed one in the leg and in the confusion fled to the nearest cover; trees, the forest dense and thick underfoot, panting and stressed as Akaishi trembled in his arms. His legs nimbly cleared the large roots, and his smaller body allowed him to duck under the fallen logs. Arrows sunk into the trunks around him, one tickling his ear as it whizzed past. Huh, maybe they didn’t care about killing him after all. It was a big forest. Lots of places to hide a body. It spurs him on, pain and fear melting away as his aim crystallised. Outrun them, survive.

Their voices steadily became further and further away as Katsuki duck and wove. He shielded his dragon as he slipped through blackberry bushes, biting his lip as thorns scratched his skin. The forest floor dipped and rose, cut through by clear, burbling streams, rich with plant life.

Katsuki didn’t care about that, as long as the plants were enough to hide him and his path. His legs burned, his chest hurt, but he couldn’t stop running, not until they were far behind him.

The sun struggles to break the foliage the deeper he goes. The air feels cooler, the wind seems to whisper, and his skin tingles with suffused magic. It’s quiet but for the calling of birds and the chitters of wildlife. He slows his run to a jog, then to a walk.

He doesn’t stop; now that the immediate danger seemed out of the way, he needed to find food and water. All he had were the clothes on his back and the dagger in his boot, the other one in that guard’s leg. There’s a chirp from his stiff arms, and a small head wriggles its way up to scent the air.

‘You okay?’ Katsuki asks, voice raspy and dry. Akaishi blinks and lets out another chirp, tail swishing. He loosens his grip and she crawls up into his collar, settling in the warm fur. She rumbles, and he strokes her head with a finger, smiling.

‘Like hell I’d let them get you,’ he declares, ‘no way!’

Akaishi puffs out a cloud of white smoke. It’s his favourite smell in the whole world.

Soon enough she stretches and takes off, gliding ahead. Katsuki has his ear and dagger out; there was no way anything was going to catch him off guard. Not a dragonblooded son.

They were gonna be fine. They were gonna survive, nothing was going to beat him.

For about a week, he’s right.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

They have last rites for their dead as the moon shows her face, a waxing quarter, a deep, fortuitous orange among the river of stars. Katsuki learned the constellations very young; every child did, the maps the gods laid out for them across the night sky. They are grounding, reminded him he walked their creation.

He would conquer the land, but he would not forget the ancient blood he fought in honour of.

Each man and woman on the funeral pyre had died with their blades in their hands, a warrior’s death. They would go proudly to the next life.

Katsuki had recited the words, voice clear and commanding, carrying over the crackling blaze. He didn’t want to see his people dead, he never liked it or even thought it necessary. His mother would say ‘a war without death is impossible’, and that may be true, but he was not the other warlords, the old emperors that forced their people to fight. None of his warriors were expendable; those who trained as hard as they did and fought with indefatigable spirit were never expendable. He would fight his battles alongside them.

His father said that’s why the army had grown, that’s why they adored Katsuki, that’s why they had never been more loyal. They knew he was one of them, a true fighter, a true leader. They trusted him to bring them victory.

The burning bodies; Katsuki almost feels as if he’s let them down. He was one man, but he was the best. Anyone that faced him would fall. But he can’t protect all of his people, and his people didn’t need it. They honoured their blood and fought.

He raises his tankard. The scent of spiced cider curls into his nose, a gentle embrace of home. After a battle, they drank one, as their fellows would be drinking alongside the gods.

‘To our warriors, to our fallen, to our victory!’

The army cheers, and drink down their cider. It was the good stuff, brewed by the temple. The warmth slides into his belly and oozes through his body, softening his tense muscles, dampening the fire in his guts. He is a little forlorn, seeing the bottom of the tankard, but there will be plenty of victories to drink to, he has no doubt.

He throws his arms back, stretching his stiff limbs. Standing in one spot like that always tensed him up. Akaishi snoozes near the largest fire, one eye opening lazily as he approaches.

Katsuki strokes her nose before getting his bedroll and rest pouch from her back. He settles near her belly, toasty as a furnace. He feels like he can relax next to her, really turn down his survival instincts for awhile. No one was fucking with him near his dragon.

The ‘rest pouch’, as he calls it, contains a small bottle of lavender oil and a few dried sprigs. He takes a pinch of lavender and rolls it in his fingers, breathing deeply the soothing scent, and shakes a few drops of the oil into his furs.

Katsuki shuffles into the blankets, gazing past Akaishi’s wing at the rich night sky, eyes growing pleasantly heavy, the air suffused with wood smoke and familiar florals, coaxing him to rest.

In the distance, he can hear the thin, familiar howls of wolves.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The wolves were a lot smaller than the ones back home, a dirt-brown colour that blends well into the surrounding woods. They’re attracted by the scent of blood from their food; Katsuki sees glimpses of movement when he finally gets a fire going, but doesn’t see the whites of their eyes until the next day. There’s four of them, and he gets a second of clarity before they attack.

It’s enough time to pull the dagger from his boot. He springs back, and when the first one charges, he sinks the blade into its neck, holding tight as he tears through the tough skin. It howls and snaps at him, teeth dragging along his left arm, flaying open the skin. Akaishi screeches at his side, snapping and clawing at the eyes of the second one. Katsuki is thrown back, scrabbling at the dirt. His hands close around a rock; better than nothing.

He roars, smashing the stone into the flailing wolf’s face, feel its eye give under the assault. He yanks his dagger free, only to see his dragon knocked out of the air.

‘NO!’ Katsuki screams, launching onto the wolf’s back. It snarls and thrashes as he stabs it, grunting as he uses the dagger as a grip. He can feel something roiling through his body, something shuddering and powerful.

Akaishi struggles free, one of her wings flapping lethargically, trailing thin golden blood. The two dying wolves are howling thinly, the third under him, snarling and thrashing, the fourth-

The fourth sinks its teeth into his bleeding arm.

Katsuki shrieks with pain, losing his grip on the knife. He’s flung off, yelping as he crashes to the ground. His legs shake with exertion, his left arm sending hot waves of pain through his body. The cold eyes of the wolf take him in, silently padding, nearing. It lowers, teeth bared, judging him to not be a threat. Akaishi struggles on the branch above it, but he stares and shakes his head. He can’t let her get killed because of his stupidity.

Katsuki hisses, tries to rise. His legs don’t obey him, stuck and wobbling. It opens its jaws wide as he shields his face with his good arm, hands ready to claw until his final breath.

There’s a loud cry, and a rock bounces off the wolf’s head. It’s barely enough to hurt it, a weak throw, but it makes it startle all the same, backing up, searching for the source.

Another rock lands next to it with a soft thump. Katsuki uses the trunk behind him to stand himself up.

Plonk! Another rock. The wolf growls, sniffing the air. Katsuki frowns; there’s nothing there but trees and bushes.

One of the bushes moves. Huh?

A thin arm raises and the bush moves up, showing a pale face and leafy eyes. Was- was it a person wearing a bush?

The plant-person yells again, flinging another rock. The wolf roars and charges.

A fresh surge of adrenaline takes Katsuki’s blood, something hot roaring under his skin, and he bodies the other wolf, snarling and gnashing his teeth.

Something in his hands sparks, catches, and explodes, like a firework, rocketing out of his palms into the wolf’s flesh. It makes a terrible wailing sound, thrashing, and Katsuki doesn’t have the time or mind to think about what he just did, as wild as the wolf.

‘That’s mine!’ Katsuki roars, pulling out his dagger. He stabs into its eye, blade biting into brain, the mutt finally going limp.

There’s a high-pitched scream. Child’s scream. Katsuki’s heart drops into his feet, they seem full of lead as he sees the beast leaping onto the bushes.

But his mind clears, sure of his skill and knowing his target. There was nothing else to kill, this was the danger. He flips his dagger so the point rests in his fingers. Stupid beasts. They left his throwing arm intact.

He flings it with all his force; there’s a yelp as the blade finds its mark. The wolf howls; a terrible, deathly noise. Katsuki hears a thin hup! and it falls to the ground.

Just like that, the fight rushes from him, and he collapses to the forest floor, clutching at his shredded arm. It’s bleeding intensely, bright red blood that Katsuki knows is very dangerous. He can hear soft noises of exertion, shifting. It’s too hard to care, arm throbbing, the forest spinning dizzily around him. His palms sting, and he feels the strangest sensation of being hollowed out, empty.

Akaishi lands heavily next to him, worried trills sounding in her throat as she climbs into his lap. His right hand comes to rest next to her. Her wing is no longer bleeding, but it has a nasty tear that he prays will heal.

‘You’re… alive…’ he mutters in relief. His grip on the world weakens for a moment, but Akaishi nips his finger, jolting him up as a voice reaches him.

‘... me? Can you hear me?’

It’s the person-bush. No, not a person, a kid, younger than Katsuki, his weird head too big on his skinny, knobbly body. There’s scratches down his arm, but he frowns and staggers over to him. His skin is pale, covered in little black spots.

‘Oh gods, are you okay?!’

‘Do I- look okay?’ Katsuki snaps back. Akaishi raises her head and wuffs. The kid wrings his hands, the little colour in him draining away as he takes in the other dead wolves.

‘How…?’

He shakes his head, frowning to himself. He holds something out; Katsuki’s knife, and Katsuki snatches it back. The other boy winces, and with a small, uncomfortable wriggle of guilt, he sees a thin red line ooze on his pale hand.

‘Um, I’m Midoriya Izuku,’ the kid mutters, holding out his hand, ‘I can take you somewhere safe…’

Katsuki only takes it for the accidental cut. He didn’t need- saving- not by a clearly weak kid.

‘Why should I trust you?’

Midoriya stares at him, eyes widening as Akaishi struggles up Katsuki’s vest. They’re as green as his hair, as green as the leaves in shadow.

‘I tried to help you,’ he says quietly, ‘and- you’re hurt. My mom’s a healer, we live nearby.’

Katsuki tries to ignore the lifting feeling of relief in his stomach. He wants to insist he doesn’t need any healer, but Akaishi chirps weakly, nestling in his fur collar, and he bites it back.

‘Okay,’ he grumbles, ‘lets go.’

The house isn’t very far away, just as Midoriya said, but Katsuki stubbornly insists on walking unaided. His pride wouldn’t allow any more help. Midoriya argued and said it was silly, of course people needed help from time to time!

Katsuki had snapped back he could take care of himself. Who killed three wolves? Not Midoriya, with his terrible little rocks.

But even as he thinks it, his gut gnaws back in frustration. The distraction had saved his life. Not that he would ever admit it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The morning comes, clear and glorious, and Katsuki breathes deep the embers of the bonfires. The wind blows from the mountains, crisp and invigorating, pulling him out of his sleepiness.

The camp is a flurry of activity, breakfast made over the cookfires while the army packed away the tents. Once they had stretched and eaten, they would be ready to go.

Most of the warriors will march on with him, with a small contingent remaining to hold their gains. Katsuki never leaves his strongholds unprotected.

‘Hey! Good morning!’

Katsuki groans, rolling his neck as Eijirou bounds through the busy camp, already in his gear. He was always so damn chipper, but he kept Katsuki on his toes.

‘Mornin’’ Katsuki grumbles, eyeing the map in Eijirou’s hands with no small amount of disdain. Akaishi rumbles happily, butting her head against Eijirou’s broad back, and he laughs, giving her snout a vigorous scratch.

‘Morning to you too, Akaishi! You two were amazing yesterday!’

‘We’re always amazing,’ Katsuki says, not willing to have a back-and-forth so soon after waking, ‘did you want something other than annoying me so early?’

Eijirou’s grin falters a little, and he rolls out the map in his hands.

‘Uh, yeah, it was just about this section here,’ he says, pointing to a red circle Katsuki outlined, deep in the forest, ‘looking at the terrain, it wouldn’t really make sense for anyone to go there. There’s no village there, either…’

‘Get to the point.’

‘Why is it specifically off-limits?’ he asks, head tilted curiously. Katsuki’s lip twists. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know where the Midoriya’s lived, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if his soldiers did somehow find it and ransack the place. So he was forced to mark the area out on their maps and forbid them from going there.

‘Fuckin’ hell…’ Katsuki mutters, feeling a headache building in his temple, ‘you remember when I… went on an adventure, as a kid?’

‘When you ran away and went missing,’ Eijirou replies, chuckling. Katsuki growls, Akaishi makes a cheeky little puff of smoke.

‘And when the Empire found out I had disappeared around here? And it was that whole stupid fucking thing with the king pretending not to know anything and saying I must’ve died and all that shit?’

‘You were found coming out of the forest!’ Eijirou says, lighting up, his big grin getting wider, ‘didn’t you like, make yourself a shelter in there? You were missing for more than a year!’

Katsuki figures it’s okay to tell him now, especially so close.

‘-all anyone could talk about, how you survived with your wits and your dragon! So manly!’

‘That’s only partially true,’ Katsuki mutters, and his friend is stunned into silence, blinking dumbly.

Katsuki takes a long draught from his waterskin before telling him everything; the trip, the guards at this very outpost trying to take his dragon, his retreat into the forest, surviving, the wolves finding him, almost killing him-

Eijirou makes a strangled little noise, grabbing onto his forearm. Katsuki shrugs it off, he was alive now, that’s what mattered.

-Izuku saving him, his magic awakening-

‘Izuku?’ Eijirou asks softly. Katsuki growls.

‘Don’t interrupt, I’m getting to that! Izuku and his mother, Inko, they… they took me in.’ He points to the map, where their house would be, ‘Inko is a healer, so she could help with my wounds. I lived with them.’

Eijirou opens his mouth, but the glare on Katsuki’s face makes him shut it again.

‘I didn’t know how long I was going to be there, at first I was so fucking angry because I was injured and they seemed so weak to me. Izuku was weak,’ he concedes, even as Eijirou raises his eyebrows, ‘but… he was smart. A total crybaby, but brave all the same.’

Katsuki huffs out a laugh.

‘The dumbass couldn’t even say my name right, ended up calling me Kacchan instead.’

There’s a small, strange smile on Eijirou’s face that Katsuki decides he does not like.

‘What?’ he spits acidly. Eijirou keeps on smiling. His face looks soft . Soft!

‘It sounds like they really helped you,’ he says quietly.

‘They fucking saved my life, they…’ Katsuki’s throat closes up, and he frowns at the sudden difficulty to talk, ‘they treated me like family.’

Akaishi’s nose bumps into him, and he pats her, smiling again.

‘Akaishi, too. Inko fixed her wing. She actually rode on Izuku’s shoulders sometimes.’

She gives a high-pitched chirp. Eijirou looks thoughtful, hand up to scratch her red scales.

‘So… why couldn’t you tell anyone? I’m sure your parents would want to reward the people that saved their son’s life.’

Katsuki wants to snap at him, he knows that, godsdamn it, he felt bad enough about it, but… Eijirou didn’t know. Because no-one could know. Not even his parents, until he’d left for this campaign.

‘Because Inko is a mage.’

Eijirou’s expression darkens, and he glares out towards the horizon. He knows what that means.

‘Inko asked me not to tell a soul they existed,’ Katsuki says mutely, trying to tamp down his anger, ‘I couldn’t tell anyone how I really survived, because then they’d go looking for her. For them. And if they found them…’

He stops himself. The thought is too horrible to imagine. Eijirou puts a warm hand on his shoulder, and this time, Katsuki doesn’t shrug it off.

‘You’re gonna save them,’ Eijirou says firmly, a familiar glint of determination in his eyes, ‘they’ll live freely when we win.’

Katsuki nods, tension easing.

‘Inko and Izuku,’ Eijirou repeats, testing the names, before he beams, ‘I can’t wait to meet them! They sound like great people!’

Akaishi surprises them with a roar, rearing back to let out a stream of golden fire. His people begin to whoop and cheer, the dragon’s good mood infectious. Katsuki laughs and grins up at her.

‘They are.’

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The Midoriya’s aren’t all that bad, Katsuki admits, for non-Empire folk at least.

At least Izuku’s mom is smart and strong enough to bring the wolf carcasses back to the house, make use of their bodies. She skins them with practised strokes, takes most of the meat, feeding pieces to Akaishi as she works. Izuku is tasked with salting it, and he does so without complaint.

He does most things his mother asks without complaint and, if anything, he looks delighted that she’s asking him. It’s weird. Katsuki didn’t get along with his mother, he knew they… loved each other, but this felt stifling. He can’t imagine the Empress of the Dragonlands beaming at him as he does simple tasks, asked endless questions, mumbled to himself. Not one bit.

If anything, it makes him scornful. Why did she give him praise for doing things? Izuku should know how to do it and just do it. He lived out here too, he should know how to survive.

The rocks made sense now. Izuku was weak, and for some reason his mother let it slide. He’d never get stronger that way.

Katsuki wants to tell him his revelations immediately, but humiliation holds him back. He’s been forced to rest by Inko, she at first tried to make him stay in bed, her own bed, but of course Katsuki refused. She’d acquiesced on the condition he rests; he’d fought her on that too, but her eyes cooled, voice firm as she told him that the bandages and healing poultices are hard to make, and she didn’t have enough to waste.

He’d bit back his arguments, shame curling in his belly. Inko was smarter than she looked. Maybe he had taken her too much for her son.

The wolf stew she serves them that night is delicious. There’s plenty to go around, and Katsuki almost chokes in his desperation to get proper food in his belly.

At home, he would be snapped at almost immediately for any number of reasons, especially eating food so ravenously, but the two Midoriya’s just take it in stride, simply asking that he be careful. Inko is happy to serve him seconds when he demands them.

Izuku asks him lots of questions about his home, about the Empire he’s only briefly heard about. Katsuki grunts and ignores him, but the boy seems entirely unfazed, instead rambling on about how cool Akaishi is, that he can’t believe dragons actually exist, are all dragons red, how big do they get, do all of them have golden blood, do they really come from eggs, do people really fly on them, has Katchu flown on one-

‘Shut up!’ Katsuki snarls, sparks shooting out of his hands and fizzling in the air. Izuku’s eyes go wide, and Katsuki sees them sheen a little, viciously glad. Izuku’s lips wobble, and he frowns at his food and continues to eat.

Inko pokes her head in, lip twitching, but says nothing at their silence. Katsuki doesn’t like how she looks sad, too.

What was with them? Why didn’t they fight back? How did they even survive out here? He’s still in danger as long as he can’t fight.

Katsuki glares at Izuku, glares at his food, and keeps wolfing it down, ignoring the tiny sniffles to his right.

‘Sorry Katch- Katchuki-’ he mumbles, and Katsuki rolls his eyes.

Izuku couldn’t even pronounce Katsuki’s name correctly. Katchu, Katchuki, Katchaa. Just another way the weakling was inferior.

He was so awed over the tiny amount of magic Katsuki could now produce, eyes wide at the sparks popping on his palms. They hurt, but Katsuki wasn’t about to say that. He was too happy about his powers, the way they had exploded against that wolf. He had his own cannons in his very hands.

The thought was dizzyingly wonderful. The burns didn’t matter, his skin would get tough, and he’d have such powerful weapons no one could stand against.

Izuku, of course, didn’t have any powers at all.

Inko had some magic at least, like the mages back home, and day after day Izuku would try to make things move, his face all scrunched up like he was eating a brussel sprout. Katsuki would laugh when his face got redder and redder. Izuku was bad at everything worthwhile.

He couldn’t throw a knife, he couldn’t hold a sword, he didn’t even have a wooden training sword! When Katsuki’s arm was good enough to move, he challenged Izuku to a sparring match, using tough branches. It turned out to be useless, because Katsuki easily won, even while injured. He couldn’t get better fighting against someone so much weaker than him, someone that didn’t even want to fight. And when Katsuki would push him down to make him yield, he’d always get so blubbery.

Kacchan! That hurt!

It was better than Katchu, at least.

No matter how much Katsuki snaps and teases, Izuku never stops following him around. Never stops bombarding him with questions about the homelands, about the Empire, about magic.

He’s worn down, and answers some of the questions. Izuku’s responses are always so mollifying; he’ll clap his hands together, or gasp, or exclaim wordless amazement. Every single time, for everything Katsuki says.

Soon enough, Katsuki is no longer bothered, but smug. He knew so much more than Izuku, he’d seen so much more of the world. With every question he can weigh on the answer, satisfied by how Izuku waits with bated breath for his every word. He tells him battle stories at night, sometimes jumping around, acting out the best parts. Akaishi joins in, too, playing the great dragons that were woven into their history. Izuku is always enraptured, too excited to sleep, hands clenching in his bedcovers.

He talks about the flowers that bloom from the ashes of dragonfire, how the capital city has a giant field of them in front of the Imperial fortress. Izuku scribbles down every fact, eyes wide, sometimes unblinking.  

But his favourite subject is the dragons. Katsuki feels his best boasting about the ones he’s met, about how he has been the youngest chosen, about the blood in his veins, ancient and powerful. More powerful than any mage. He was going to be their leader, one day, and Akaishi his partner, his dragon, would be with him as they won battle after battle for their homeland.

It’s why he goes off into the wildwood so often, burning for adventure, marching fearlessly into the unknown. Through the thickets and over the roots, finding places Izuku says only his mother has been to.

‘One day, Akaishi will be bigger than the house, big enough for me to ride!’ Katsuki proclaims from his perch, the large log crossing the river. His hands are on his hips, eyes glaring at Izuku. Daring him to argue.

But Izuku’s eyes are wide and sparkling, like when Inko explains a new potion or enchantment, drinking in his words with unbridled, awed curiosity.

‘That’s so cool Kacchan!’ he gushes, clasping his hands together, ‘are all dragons that big?’

Katsuki rolls his eyes and smirks; dumb Izuku! Did he know anything?

He supposes it’s not Izuku’s fault that he didn’t grow up in the Empire. Luckily for him, he has Katsuki to tell him all about it.

‘The dragons are huge! There’s a story about the battle of Silverclaw Mountain, where dragons swallowed the enemy horses whole.’

Izuku’s mouth falls open. Akaishi flies overhead, trilling and chirping, and he glances up at her, clearing trying to imagine her a hundred times her size.

‘I wish I could see a dragon that big,’ he says, eyes shining, ‘do you think Mom and I could come visit you when you’re back home?’

Katsuki marches across the log, seriously thinking about it. Inko was a good alchemist and decent mage, so she wouldn’t embarrass him, but... Izuku? Skinny Izuku, who couldn’t even spar? He can’t have someone like that hanging around him back home. Strength was everything, and Izuku simply wasn’t strong.

‘No,’ he snaps, crossing his arms, ‘you’re too weak, Izuku. It’d be humiliating, you following me around.’

Izuku had been scrambling after him, but he stops, scuffing a foot against the mossy wood, mouth turned down unhappily.

‘Humili-Humili-?’

‘Geeze, it means you’d make me look bad, stupid Izuku,’ Katsuki grumbles, frowning as tears begin pooling in Izuku’s eyes. They make the green so bubbly and shiny, but his face got red and blotchy. He didn’t like it when Izuku cried like this. It hurt strangely in his chest.

‘I’m s-sorry Kacchan…’ Izuku mumbles, ducking his face away. Katsuki can hear his gross, thick sniffles. He frowns. Izuku was such a crybaby, but he was still out here with Katsuki, going on adventures. Trusting him.

And he was good with all the plants Inko had. He could recite everything he’d ever learned about them, with tremendous speed and detail. His potions were looking better these days. He worked really hard, and never complained about it.

Katsuki liked spending time with him, even though he was weak.

Izuku was the one to help him that day.

Katsuki kicks at the forest floor, an unpleasant burn in his chest. He feels bad. Feels worse with every little noise Izuku made, driving a hot spike of something into his chest.

‘Look…’ he mutters, ‘you’re learning alchemy pretty quick, and you can get stronger, alright? I can help you.’

Izuku stiffens, whirls around. His red face has a giant, wobbling smile on it. That’s better.

‘Really, Kacchan?!’

‘I mean, if anyone can help you, it’s me, right?’ Katsuki says, jabbing his thumb into his chest, ‘and when Akaishi is big enough, I’ll fly here and we can go back together!’

Izuku wipes his face, beaming, and the sight banishes the squirming remorse. He’s happy at the excitement Izuku has at the idea.

‘You promise?’

‘Promise.’

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The mountains yawn open, jagged and white; in its maw is the valley. From his mount Katsuki can see from the outpost they’d taken to the township, split by a dense forest. The sun dips just beyond the sharp teeth, casting the sky and stone in glorious orange. His favourite time of day, when the men were at their hungriest and their prey at their softest.

His warriors march into the mouth, fearless and itching for battle. They would cross the forest, even into the dark. The wild animals would provide sport and blood, whet their appetites.

‘You’ll eat your fill again tonight, Akaishi,’ he roars over the wind, and his dragon answers him, surging up to better survey their domain; far below his army bellows.

His excitement only grows as he sights it; there, hidden amongst the foliage, a sliver of a clearing.

He nudges with his knees, and Akaishi turns, begins to sink into a smooth descent.

There was no way anyone missed the challenge, the warning. The village would have no way to defend against his hordes, and word would have reached their weakling monarchs. Katsuki didn’t care. There was nothing they could do to stop him. He would dismantle their government, execute their leaders, destroy every shred of their pathetic bloodline.

Then those with talents would no longer be shunned and abhorred. His empire welcomed them with open arms. The king was a fool to hunt down their strongest. It’s why their defending forces were crushed, why Katsuki’s warriors could march unopposed through their lands. They were going to lose. It was their own fault.

The trees are dense, heavy boughs and twisting branches. Katsuki feels his wild joy simmer and temper with a slight push of… nervousness?

He was nervous to see his… the weakling? That couldn’t be right.

Katsuki huffs. If anything, Izuku should be the nervous one! Seeing Akaishi, not even at her full size, flying overhead. A dragon unlike anything he could imagine!

A wild grin splits his face. Should she breathe fire? That might be funny. But he wouldn’t want anything to catch ablaze.

Nah, their presence was more than enough. The Emperor of the Dragonlands and his great dragon, descending from the heavens themselves. He was gonna be blown away.

For once, he was itching for this campaign to be over. He wanted to show them how life could be, how their world was going to open up after he liberated them. Inko would be able to train with the Imperial mages, and Izuku would have the Imperial alchemy lab at his disposal.

Katsuki couldn’t wait to see the look on that dork’s face when he saw the fortress, when he saw Katsuki’s homeland in all it’s wild splendour. There was so much he could learn, so much he could record in his little books.

He couldn’t wait.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Katsuki grudgingly admits that Izuku is good with alchemy. He knows just about every plant they come across on their adventures, rambling about their properties and uses in potion-making, and when he doesn’t recognise them he whips out a leather-bound journal and takes notes with his clumsy handwriting. Katsuki sometimes just leaves him when he gets like that, mumbling over his book, having eyes for nothing but the plant in front of him.

Katsuki doesn’t like it. He always leads, with his dagger and his powers and his dragon, and Izuku always followed, weaker and slower. But when he finds something he wants to focus on more, it leaves Katsuki frustrated and grumpy.

Once, when they were exploring a new stretch of forest, Katsuki had found a ridge that cut off and sheared into a small cliff. But when he turned around, Izuku wasn’t behind him. He’d  spotted something on the fringe of the woods and stopped, crouching and scribbling in his dumb book, not a care in the world.

Katsuki was furious about it. He’d already had Izuku following him all morning, nervously chattering he’d never gone this far without his mother, saying they should go back. He didn’t leave when Katsuki said he should, if he was going to be such a baby about it, he insisted on trailing behind. Katsuki had to put up with it all morning, and now that they’d found something cool, something exhilarating, something like home, Izuku wasn’t even paying attention.

Katsuki snatches his stupid journal, and Izuku sits there stupidly for a second, looking at his empty hands. He looks up, and his dazed expression flickers into one of confusion.

‘Kacchan?’

The wind is nice and strong up here, now that they’re out of the thick of the woods. It sends his cape fluttering, fur tickling his neck. Just like home. His hand closes tightly around the journal, an errant spark hissing against the worn leather.

Izuku stands, head tilted, eyes flicking anxiously from the book to Katsuki’s angry grin.

‘Um, if you wanted to look at it, you could just ask,’ Izuku mumbles, hands fiddling with his cloak. Katsuki huffs, turns, and marches towards the cliff. Izuku yelps and scrambles to follow.

‘Kacchan? What are you doing?’ he says, sounding very nervous.

The drop is quite far, cutting across the forest in a jagged line. Katsuki can see the glimmer of a stream amongst the trees below. He steps to the edge, gazing over the treetops, the wind in his hair and his clothes. Like he’s on top of the world.

‘B-be c-careful, Kacchan!’ Izuku cries. Katsuki jerks his head around. Izuku is a few good paces away from the cliff, his shaking hands reaching out. A vicious, offended spike drives through Katsuki’s gut. As if he was going to fall. His people lived among tumultuous, wild lands. None of this gentle shit they had here.

Katsuki stalks across the lip of the fall, just to show Izuku he can, that’s he’s not a fucking clumsy baby. Izuku trails parallel, eyes wide with worry. Akaishi flies circles overhead, uncharacteristically silent.

Izuku’s eyes flick to the journal, and an unexpected flare of rage lights Katsuki up, licking and burning. It’s a horrible, ugly feeling, quite like nothing he’s felt before. In that moment he hates this stupid journal, he hates it’s stupid cover and it’s stupid pages all stupidly fawned over by Izuku, and he hates Izuku.

Izuku stares back at him, worry morphing into fear as a savage grin stretches Katsuki’s face.

‘Dumb Izuku, always writing writing writing,’ he taunts, shaking the book. His fury is filling his blood, his magic humming under his skin, ‘you think that writing will give you magic?’

Izuku’s hands shoot back towards his body, standing stiff as a board. As a useless lump of wood.

Only good for burning.

‘Think you’re gonna be a good alchemist?’ Katsuki continues, flipping through the pages, staring at the days and days of work, every word and sketch only fuelling his anger, ‘how can you be one if you can’t even go into the woods on your own?’

Those freckled cheeks flush a deep pink, Izuku sucking in his bottom lip, chewing anxiously. He hands twist and pull at his clothes, trembling.

‘Every time I lead you somewhere good, you always find something new,’ he growls, slamming the book shut, feeling his palms crackling, sparks sizzling against the leather, ‘how will you come back when I go home, weakling?’

‘I- I…’ Izuku whispers, eyes filling with tears. Crybaby. Akaishi makes a strange, muted little sound.

‘You wouldn’t have any of the best parts without me,’ Katsuki says disdainfully, holding his arm out, letting it openly dangle, ‘so why are you even trying?’

‘It’s… important,’ Izuku says, wiping his eyes and glancing up, ‘it r-reminds me of-’

He goes completely still, colour draining from his face. Terror.

‘It’s stupid,’ Katsuki hisses, and with a vicious movement, he flings it away. Izuku shouts, darting forward, his slow hands grabbing for it. It careens over the edge and plummets to the forest below, disappearing among the trees.

Izuku almost flies off the edge diving for it, and Katsuki shoots out his boot to stop him from sliding over the cliff. His heart is hammering in his chest, his dark satisfaction snuffed out by how close Izuku came to certain death. How he didn’t even stop himself.

Izuku screams, a high-pitched, wounded sound that pierces Katsuki’s ears. It tapers off into rough, winded sobs, Izuku hunching over the precipice in a way even Katsuki would not. He rocks back and forth, and Katsuki has to drag him away before he tumbles.

He’s not happy anymore. Everything flickers and dies as Izuku curls into a ball, crying his heart out. He doesn’t even acknowledge Katsuki, wailing into the dirt.

Katsuki stands there, for once unsure what he’s supposed to do. Akaishi is making worried sounds, butting her head against Izuku’s back, but not even that works. Izuku has one hand on the back of his neck, pulling and scratching at his skin, and Katsuki’s stomach turns as it turns raw.

Then, without a word or a glance back, Izuku gets up and stumbles into the forest, slipping into the scraggly undergrowth.

‘OI-’ Katsuki yells, taking a step forward. Sharp pain sinks into the shell of his ear, and he yelps. Akaishi snarls, nipping his fingers as they get too close.

‘That fucking hurt,’ he growls, and Akaishi makes a satisfied little grunt. She huffs out dark, acrid smoke, before flying over the cliff. Katsuki presses his cloak to his smarting ear, watching her red body get smaller and smaller. His heart burns with shame and pain.

He- he really didn’t want Izuku to cry. That’s not…

Katsuki’s eyes burn, but he doesn’t let his tears fall. He’s not the one that deserves to feel upset. This is his fault.

It’s dusk by the time Akaishi returns, wings flapping laboriously as she crests the ridge, a familiar book clutched in her claws. Katsuki’s heart lifts, and he actually cries out with relief.

That, and the healing bites on his ear and finger, seem to mollify her a little. She drops the book into his hands, and lets out a curl of grey smoke, not as stinging as before.

‘You’re right, it was wrong,’ Katsuki whispers, head bowed in shame, ‘I was wrong. I’m sorry.’

She slaps her tail against him; it stings but it isn’t a bite, and climbs up into his collar, huffing tiredly. Katsuki clasps the book securely against his chest, and runs into the woods.

It’s a lot darker than he thought it would be, and his skin prickles as the night falls. He can’t see any moon through the trees, the ground treacherous.

Katsuki realises how much he likes the Midoriya house; the meals Inko prepares, the crackling scented fire, even the bedroom he shares with Izuku. It’s warm, comforting, safe. He doesn’t want to be out here, he wants to be… home.

Would Inko even want him there now? Would Izuku?

The thought makes him stop in his tracks. Akaishi shuffles sleepily as a horrible dread settles in his chest.

What he did was terrible and cruel, for reasons he’s not even sure about.

As much as he fucking hated to admit it, without them, he’d most likely be dead, his rotting body never found.

Inko took him in, a wounded, dangerous stranger, brought him into their home. Their isolated home, with no paths to the nearest village, safe and protected by the magic in the very soil.

What a terrible way to repay them.

Akaishi rumbles a little, and he grunts, keeps his feet moving. Well, he wouldn’t be able to apologise if he was dead.

He thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him, seeing a yellow flicker darting between the trees. He stops, squinting, as it gets closer and closer. Akaishi perks up, sniffing the air, and then voices reach him. Calling.

‘Katsuki! Katsuki!’

‘Kacchan! KACCHAN! Where are you?’

Relief floods his body, an errant smile pulling at his lips. The smoky light is a lamp in Inko’s hand, held high.

‘M’here,’ Katsuki calls, legs wobbling. Inko smiles and waves, moving briskly and gracefully towards him. Izuku clambers, cloak snagging, rasping excited breaths.

Izuku’s eyes are wide and sheened with moisture, and he jumps upon seeing Katsuki.

‘Kacchan! Kacchan! Thank the gods! You’re okay!’

He barrels into him, wrapping him in a tight, desperate hug, crying into his shoulder.

‘I’m so s-sorry I ran off like that-’ he babbles, ‘I shouldn’t have left you-’

‘Not your fault,’ Katsuki mutters, putting his free arm around Izuku. He’s very warm, but shaking.

‘Are you injured, Katsuki?’ Inko asks, lips pursed as she tries to analyse his physical state in the flickering lamp light. He shakes his head. Izuku is still nestled in his shoulder, and he awkwardly taps his back to get him to move.

‘Here,’ he says, throat tight as he hands over the journal. The cover is warped and cracked from his magic, some pages a little soggy, and Katsuki burns with prickling shame as both Izuku and Inko look at it.

Izuku gasps, taking the book in trembling fingers.

‘You got it back!’ he cries, with such joy and delight it was as if Katsuki hadn’t been the reason it was lost in the first place, ‘thank-you, Kacchan!’

‘Actually… Akaishi got it back…’ Katsuki mumbles. Izuku turns his watering eyes to the dragon, beaming at her.

‘Thank-you so much, Akaishi!’ he says, bowing, ‘dragons are so strong, and so kind!’

From anyone else it may have been teasing, sarcastic, kiss ass, but from Izuku it’s genuine and warm. Akaishi makes a purring rumble in her chest as she lets Izuku stroke her head.

All their mouths drop open when she hops from Katsuki’s collar and runs along Izuku’s arm, settling into his rabbit-fur hood, tail around his neck. Izuku looks as dumbfounded as Katsuki feels, and that ugly, quivering feeling rears its head in his heart again. He roughly pushes it down, furious at himself.

Izuku strokes the dragon’s head, and she huffs out white smoke. His green eyes widen in shock and awe.

‘Does that mean you like me?’ he asks her softly.

‘Course she does,’ Katsuki mutters, chest burning. Inko puts a hand on his shoulder. She’s smiling warmly.

‘Let’s go home, Katsuki. Dinner’s ready by now.’

Izuku chatters all the way back, sticking to Katsuki’s side as Inko leads them home. Katsuki wants to push him away, to tell him to shut up, every friendly word and smile making him just feel worse. Izuku frowns at his tight, unhappy expression, eventually falling silent.

As soon as he sees the house, feels the welcoming curl of magic over his skin, the silence is broken.

‘Thank-you for finding me and helping me,’ Katsuki says quietly, bowing. Izuku looks very confused, but Inko smiles, face softening.

‘Kacchan, we’d always come find you!’

‘And we want to help you,’ Inko says, voice very warm, ‘you’re welcome here as long as you like.’

Katsuki can only nod, words stuck in his throat. Izuku beams and grabs his hand, gently pulling him inside. Dinner is rabbit casserole, with rich vegetables and herbs. Katsuki misses the spices of home, but Inko made meals that warmed his entire body. He wonders aloud if there’s some sort of magic going on; Izuku looks at his mother in surprise while Inko chuckles and blushes, shaking her head.

‘The secret ingredient is love,’ she says, winking, and Katsuki makes a face. Izuku giggles.

‘Do all mages add it?’ Katsuki quips back, smirking.

Both Izuku’s and Inko’s faces fall. Izuku pokes at his food, lips wobbling a little, and Inko’s smooths out, replaced by a careful smile.

‘I, ah, I don’t know, there aren’t many mages I’ve met. I’m sure everyone adds it,’ she murmurs.

Katsuki wants to press, but Izuku and Inko have already been through enough stress today because of him, so he just nods slowly, keeps eating.

It keeps him up, even as the scent of the room curls around him, rain beginning to patter soothingly on the roof. Izuku fell asleep in minutes, clearly exhausted. Akaishi curls up on his covers, a red lump, her head nosing into green hair.

Katsuki stares at them. He didn’t really know that much about magic and alchemy as he should, but there were plenty of mages and witches where he came from, of all walks of magic and life. He thinks of his own magic, how he’d never seen anything like it. People were blessed with it. Maybe they were sad Izuku did have any?

But it wasn’t just about Izuku, it was about all mages. Why were there so few? Was this land unfavoured?

He finds out a few days later, bringing in some firewood to the brewing room when Inko suddenly asks him to not tell anyone what she was, after he leaves. He cheekily asks if she’s not a very good mage and if she’s embarrassed about it.

Inko laughs at that, and when she smiles her eyes crinkle and shine. So strange. If he’d insulted someone like that at home, even in jest, his mother would strike him on the head for the insolence.

‘Nothing like that, Katsuki,’ she says, grinding away at some plant or another, ‘it’s just- in these lands, anyone with magical power is… killed.’

‘Hah?’ Katsuki says, ‘that’s stupid! Why?’

Inko’s face had become sad, gaze distant.

‘They believe it is… blasphemy, that all magic is witchcraft, and it is evil,’ she murmurs. Her nimble fingers pluck and stir away at her potion.

‘That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,’ Katsuki says. And it was. What kind of dumbasses rejected magic? No wonder they hated his people. No wonder they were so weak.

‘It is, but unfortunately we live in these lands. If the village in the valley found out what I was, well, they would at the very least kill me for it.’

Katsuki wants to stab something, an angry burn deep in his gut as he looks up at the woman that has only shown him kindness and understanding.

‘Fanatics are known to kill entire families of suspected witches,’ Inko says, looking out the window to their herb garden, where Izuku was collecting ingredients, ‘even if they have no abilities. Izuku would be killed, just for being my son.’

She takes a deep breath, the weight of her burden creasing every line in her face.

‘That is why you cannot tell a soul, Katsuki,’ she says, fixing him with a heavy stare. Katsuki puts his hand over his heart.

‘I won’t.’

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Akaishi rumbles, sniffing the air; no doubt the potent fauna is piquing her curiosity. Auntie Inko had said some plants have strong magical properties that could be sensed by any creature with magical ability. Dragons have the power of the ancients in their blood, their senses were very keen indeed.

Inko had many strange and unusual plants, some native to this forest, some passed down from her family and teachers. There were lilies that only bloomed on the full moon, glowing just as brightly; there were trees with shiny pink fruits who’s pits contained a strong alchemical reagent; bell-shaped flowers with thick pollen that could put any animal to sleep. There was a gigantic, leather-bound book that was kept in the brewing room, filled with drawings of every plant Katsuki could think of. Izuku had his own books, too, his own notes that he knew by heart.

He was going to see it all again.

The itching, burning excitement had grown within him as Akaishi did. The thought of finally coming back here, this place he only truly, wholly appreciated once he had left… to see them again. To see Izuku again.

He couldn’t wait to see the smiles on their faces, see their joy when he told them his empire was going to liberate them. In his lands mages, alchemists, witches; they need not hide. They would be safe, they would be free.

The clearing isn’t very large, but Akaishi seems to remember the place, letting out excited wuffs of pale smoke.

Katsuki leans over to get a better look, and his grin falters. Strange. He was sure the house was just on the edge of the trees. Maybe Inko planted more? It had been years, Katsuki wasn’t going to remember everything.

But… that niggling, stubborn feeling worms it’s way into his head. He had run up to the house a hundred times. Had noted how the sunlight was able to fall perfectly on it in the mornings, and shaded from the worst of the afternoon heat.

He doesn’t remember the large firepit, either. Or why the Midoriya's would need one.

They get closer, the dragon starting to fall in slow circles, spiralling on the currents to conserve her energy.

Katsuki can see the glimmer of the river, the vegetable patch, with gigantic gourds spilling across the grass, and the small, sloping wall near the family gravesite.

Where was the house?

What was with the ashen fire… pit…

He almost falls from Akaishi, straining to see, heart in his throat as he searches desperately for the place he had called home, once.

But he’d already found it. The place he had found refuge, found caring and love, for those many moons, was now a burnt-out shadow of itself. A silent, dark grave of his memories.

Katsuki’s feet feel like clumsy weights when he dismounts, dragging along the blackened dirt. On the outer walls, words have been viciously painted.

Evil witches! Burn them all! Burn the witches! Death to the wicked!

Witches…? There were no witches in the Midori… ya… house...

His thoughts stutter to a halt, swallowed up by a great, dark horror.

In the centre of the carnage, there is a larger pile of ash and charcoal. Perched on top, two strangle, knobbly piles of sticks.

Not sticks. Bones.

The misshapen piles were skeletons, turned dark grey from the fire and ash. Slumped in a mockery of a someone that had just fallen asleep.

Who…?

It wasn’t them. Because he has promised Izuku they would meet again. Izuku had promised to look after something special.

He held Katsuki’s hand all the way through the woods, kept in his tears. He can still feel the lingering warmth of Izuku’s light kiss on his cheek when he said goodbye.

Katsuki’s legs tremble underneath his weight, each step heavier than the last. There are scraps of the life lived here, tattered clothes and scattered, ruined toys. The plants that grew wild without supervision. The rotting, dry remains of those that couldn’t.

He falls to his knees, clouds of ash stirring. One of the skeletons is larger, with an adult’s proportions.

The other is smaller, with those of a child’s.

Katsuki’s breath rattles as he inches closer. There was no way to tell who it was. They were nothing but charred bone, not a scrap left behind. His brain stops every time he tries to consider it.

This could not be. There was still so much to do, to see, to show them. It could not be over.

Katsuki grits his teeth, growls to himself.

His thoughts are whisked away, sent spiralling madly into the past, as red eyes glimpse a tiny red mound, hidden by ashes, cradled in thin ribs.

No…

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Izuku was trying to be strong, holding in his tears no matter how his lips wobbled and let out tiny sounds. His hands worried and pulled at one of his favourite toys, trying to find some comfort, but it was a losing battle.

In the morning, Auntie and Izuku were going to escort him to the edge of the wildwood, and wait in the shadows for the Imperial ambassadors to find him. He was finally going home.

He’d hollered with excitement, running wild with Akaishi, hooting and laughing. They were going back! To the Empire! To his lands! Where he could train and fight and see the dragons again!

It had taken him a long time to notice Izuku wasn’t joining in on his happiness. When pressed, he’d blurted he didn’t want Katsuki to go.

‘What? You don’t want me to go? It’s my home!’

Izuku had scrunched up his face and stared at his feet.

‘But I’ll m-miss you…’

Katsuki had been furious. Izuku putting his feelings over Katsuki getting to go home? What kind of friend was he?!

Izuku had gone very pale, had babbled something about it not being like that, but Katsuki had run deep into the woods, one last time.

He’d stayed there until the light drifted orange over the leaves. The lilies were closed on the pond. Akaishi’s trills were short and sad. They both already missed Izuku’s company, and it sinks in that this is how it is going to feel until he comes back. This absence by his side.

Of course Izuku was going to miss him. Katsuki was going home to the Imperial fortress and the dragons, and he’d stay here by himself.

Katsuki had frowned at that. Who knew when Akaishi would be big enough to fly him back? It could be years…

With that thought, he had run back. Izuku was sitting outside, wiping his face.

Katsuki had grabbed him, pulled him upstairs. Where Izuku tried not to cry.

‘I’m so sorry, Kacchan,’ he says, worrying his lip, ‘of course I want you to be back home…’

Katsuki puts his hand over Izuku’s fidgeting ones, carefully puts the stuffed animal to the side. Izuku’s eyes go wide, mouth forming a silent question.

Slowly, Katsuki pulls off one of his necklaces. His ruby fang, his most prized possession. He nudges Izuku’s hands open and puts the fang in his palms.

‘This is… Kacchan…?’

‘I want you to look after it until I come back,’ Katsuki says, and Izuku’s fingers close, trembling, around the gift. He nods, blinking rapidly, but tears still slide down his face, over his freckles.

Katsuki was going to miss him so much.

‘That one’s my favourite, Izuku,’ he mutters, feeling his face grow hot, his eyes starting to burn, ‘so if you lose it, I’ll kill you!’

Izuku nods, smiling at the ruby, and then at him.

‘I’ll take the best care of it, Kacchan!’ he cries. He throws his arms around him, and Katsuki lets himself be hugged. Izuku mumbles that he doesn’t have a gift, but Katsuki reminds him he can’t take anything like that back to home.

Izuku cries all over again and begs Katsuki not to forget him.

‘I wouldn’t give that to just anyone,’ Katsuki grumbles, pointing at Izuku’s hands, ‘only someone I trusted.’

He wants the sad expression off of Izuku’s face. This isn’t what he wants to see before he leaves. He wants a happier face in his memories.

Katsuki grabs the handkerchief and wipes Izuku’s face. The other boy goes very quiet and still, letting him do it.

After he’s done, Katsuki grabs his hands.

‘I’m not going to forget you, I promised already I would come back.’

Izuku sniffles, nodding. But his lips quirk down, a frown on his brow.

‘You don’t have to come back just because… I want you to,’ he mumbles, fiddling with the fang, ‘that wouldn’t be fair to make you leave your home.’

‘This is my home, too,’ Katsuki replies, feeling his face growing warm. Urgh, when did he get so soft? But Izuku beams and hugs him again, and that makes his embarrassment worth it.

That night, Katsuki doesn’t want to sleep alone, so they share Izuku’s bed. Inko tells them a story, and she’s just like her son, trying to put on a happy face, so he hugs her too, promises he’ll come back when he’s older.

She ties a sprig of lavender to the bedframe, wishing them a peaceful sleep, kissing their heads and shutting off the lamp. He can hear her sniffle after the door closes.

Katsuki stays awake for awhile, breathing deep the rich scent of the house, eyes trailing over the wooden walls, their toys, the bed he wouldn’t sleep in again. He wishes he could bring it all with him. Izuku snuffles in his sleep, hand reaching to curl in Katsuki’s nightshirt.

Something red glints there; the fang still clasped in Izuku’s fingers. Katsuki gently pulls it free and slips it around Izuku’s neck. It looks… nice on him.

He snuggles down close, pushing his fingers between Izuku’s. Yes. He was going to come back one day. Auntie Inko could meet his parents and the other mages and Izuku could stay in his room and share his bed and they’d go on all sorts of adventures with Akaishi. He’d show Izuku the mountain temples and the Smoking Gorge and the fields of fireflowers. He’d share all his favourite places, and they’d be able to go anywhere on Akaishi’s back.

The lavender soothes him into sleep. One day...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

With trembling, numb fingers, Katsuki sifts through the ash, nudging chalky, sooty bone. The glint turns into a lump; a chunk of ruby, curved like the fang of a dragon. His gift from his parents when Akaishi chose him.

He stares at the thing, the gem somehow the weight of lead. His eyes trail from it, to the slumped form of the skeleton. The smaller hands, spindly limbs, the skull that looked too big for its short neck.

‘No…’

The larger skeleton has a warped ring with a tiny emerald. It has a woman’s hips.

The small skeleton doesn’t. Not as small as he… remembered… but still young.

His hand clamps around the fang, nails digging deep into his palm, head spinning.

No, no, no. This could not be.

The empty books with cracked covers, pages violently torn out, they could not be Inko’s.

The smashed pieces of pottery, the glittering glass, they could not be her potions and plants.

These bones, the adult and the child, the child, this could not be them, it had to be anyone but them, anyone!

The air shifts as he chokes on the cloud of ash. He wasn’t- he wasn’t breathing in their remains.

Akaishi dips her head low, nostrils rippling.

She rumbles, low and mournful, tip of her snout touching to Iz- to the child’s skull.

‘No,’ Katsuki croaks, ‘no. It’s not, it’s not them.’

Her large, scaly head gently bumps against his back. She rumbles again, so long and deep it’s almost melodic. Katsuki’s hand fists into the grey ash, body shuddering violently.

‘Please, gods, no… not them… not him...’

He has cried twice in his life. The first time when Akaishi chose him, the second when his father almost died to an assassination attempt. He cries again, now.

The forest seems to shake and whisper at the terrible, heartrending howls, the predators slinking away at the wounded sounds. Something horrific was happening in the clearing, where the humans had been set alight. The place, once respected, crawled with the curse of snuffed-out magic. It was the resting place of an ancient bloodline.

The birds fly away, the rabbits hide in their warrens, the wolves flee for the mountains.

In the woods, the soldiers can hear the sound of the Emperor’s dragon howling to the heavens.

Katsuki screams until his throat is raw, until every bit of air is pulled in and torn apart, until his vision blurs and fuzzes.

He wails until his lips crack, until the sun has almost left and the sky is watered ink.

He claws at his own chest, pounds his fists into the ground, snarling and weeping and aching.

But it’s not enough.

He stares at Izuku’s skull, the lips that touched him melted away forever, and knows it isn’t enough just to mourn.

Finally, he stands, knees trembling. Akaishi growls, scenting the air. Her wings stretch and flutter restlessly.

She can feel the intention of her rider, the white-hot, blinding rage that seared to his very core. The latent power trails to him, drawn to the purity of his feelings.

There will be blood. There will be fire. There will be death. For the people that did this. For their enemies.

Her tail shifts with excitement and fury, blood roaring in kind.

Katsuki looks up at her, energy returning to his numb limbs. She is great, powerful, awe-inspiring. Oh, if only Izuku could see her now. How he’d smile.

He rips off a strip of his cloak, ties it to the ruby securely. He slips the necklace around his neck, brings it to his lips. Izuku’s ashes cling to it, cling to him.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t save you, Izuku,’ Katsuki whispers to him, ‘but I will avenge you.’

He mounts his dragon. On the inky sky trails plumes of smoke from fireplaces. It’s quiet. His vanguard hasn’t reached it yet.

Good.

Akaishi takes to the air with a powerful sweep of her wings. The clearing quickly shrinks as she snakes through the air, commanding the skies with every vicious flap of her wings.

A thin, high horn blares as the township comes into view. There are archers hiding behind the entrance wall. Katsuki draws his blade as they set loose a pathetic volley.

He rears tall on his dragon as they cower in terror; the woods fill with distant shouts. His army nears, but he will be the face of their terror. The herald of their deaths.

‘HEAR ME, YOU PATHETIC PIECES OF SHIT,’ Katsuki roars, ‘BRING THE LEADERS, BRING THE VILLAGERS, BRING THE SOLDIERS, AND KNEEL AT MY FEET.’

They are frozen stiff with the power of his voice. He has dragonblood, he is chosen, and he is fury incarnate.

‘YOU HAVE LOST, YOUR LIVES ARE FORFEIT. KNEEL AND GROVEL FOR YOUR EMPEROR’S MERCY, OR BE EATEN ALIVE.’

Akaishi roars, letting loose a heavy plume of flame. It skims the wall, and Katsuki can hear the trash sobbing and muttering. His blade screams for their blood. It will have it. There were many more villages to raze.

But he knows exactly what he wants to do with this one.

The warriors arrive, and the pathetic pissants surrender. Katsuki has them stripped of anything useful, and then forces them to kneel in the center of town. Eijirou emerges with the rest, takes one look at Katsuki and goes deathly pale. He opens his mouth-

‘No.’

Not now, perhaps not ever. He couldn’t, he can’t think about it, and to speak it would give it such terrible life. Eijirou looks to him and Akaishi. All the energy in him seems to fade away, his expression shadowed deep sadness. Katsuki can’t even bear to look at it.

The houses are emptied, ransacked for supplies. His army had enough to feed itself, but why not take the spoils? Usually, his new subjects would be given a choice; to come under his rule, under the Empire’s laws and continue their lives. They would pledge their loyalty and service to him and his people. Or choose not to. Those that refused were sent homeward, prisoners of war to labour in the camps. But not this trash.

Katsuki had no use for vermin.

He dismounts as the army shepherds his prisoners. A few try to run away. They are lessons, tossed into the sky and minced in Akaishi’s mouth. The rest wail and cringe at the delightful crunches, the wet tears of flesh.

‘If any of you volunteer to be dragonfood, be my fucking guest, ’ Katsuki says, savage glee overriding his grief. His fingers pass over the ruby at his neck.

He knows what he looks like to them, these cringing fuckers in their nightclothes, their frightened faces turned up in horror. He’s a waking nightmare, he’s violence made flesh, he’s Warlord and Emperor Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he grins at their despair.

They will suffer.

‘There was a house up there,’ he says, turning deceptively calm, ‘in the wildwood. Lots of alchemical plants. It’s been razed.’

He notes which people shift, look down, flinch. His warriors tear their homes apart.

‘Stranger still, there were two-’ his breath almost trembles, almost, ‘people in the ashes. Two skeletons. A mother and her child.’

Ah. Some of them were white with fear. He lets his eyes rake across them all, posture loose and relaxed, blade carving at the air. Eijirou’s face is wet in the torchlight.

‘You think I’m a monster, fine, but you fucks burned two peaceful people alive,’ he says, voice dropping into a poisonous snarl, ‘two good, smart, kind people. You burned a child alive.’

Many of them look terrified, some almost fucking indignant. Oh, ohh, these pieces of shit, they were going to pay. A crooked smile claws its way up his face.

‘So tell me, little shits, who the fuck put them to the stake?’

Babbling breaks out, accusations flying. A few men and women are clearly the central instigators, and Katsuki has them dragged out. He notices Eijirou is one of the first to jump forward to help, seizing the closest and growling when they resisted. It pleases him.

Katsuki stares down at the pieces of shit, lip curling in disgust as they huddle at his feet.

‘You’ll be fetching the firewood, shit maggots.’

Katsuki has them separated into family groups while the others haul firewood from across the village. He directs them to make several stakes and a large pyre. The others watch, kneeling. They’ve all been bound.

The fuel piles higher and higher, too much for just one round of burnings, and he orders some put to the side… for the next lot.

Katsuki laughs as the horror sets in, as it dawns on them there is more to his plans. Some of them are begging, weeping, others silent and drawn.

He presses a hand to his chest. Izuku wore this when he died, it was all that was left of him.

Katsuki’s vicious good humour vanishes in an instant, the pain and loss a cold, heavy rock in his heart. Every breath he took, it hurt.

‘ BEG FOR YOUR WORTHLESS FUCKING LIVES, PISSANTS.’

And they begged, they screamed. Oh, what music to his ears. But, something missing.

He was a dragonblood, and where was a dragon without his fire?

‘Your families?’ he asks the leaders, the religious shits that tortured his Izuku, voice a low, sibilant hiss. The families are brought forward. The people most important to them, the ones they loved.

The wailing reaches fever-pitch as he chooses, one from each group, and they are dragged to the stakes, thrown on the pile. They thrash, faces curdled with terror, and Katsuki is alive with anticipation.

Eijirou opens his mouth again, stepping close, but he does not understand. Katsuki needs to see this, needs to do this. Katsuki shoves him away.

Hurt flickers across his face, but it is soon replaced with a hard mask. Eijirou simply salutes and joins the other warriors circled around the scene.

Katsuki breathes, his palms sparking in his rage, in his sorrow; he wants to blow them all to pieces, but that would be too fast. They didn’t deserve fast. They deserved slow and
a g o n i s i n g.

‘YOU BURNED THEM ALIVE,’ he roars, ‘AND NOW YOU WILL FUCKING SUFFER.’

He nods to Akaishi; she roars in kind, dips her head, and breathes her fire, a stunning, glorious orange that catches quickly.

Katsuki raises his arms to the sight, clawing at the air. He turns to them, head thrown back, laughing to the stars.

‘EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU PIECES OF SHIT KNEELING AT MY FEET. YOU WILL ALL BURN.’

The whole kingdom would, for what they have done. He wouldn’t stop. Their allies will be next. And then their allies. Until the world kneels at his feet and begs his forgiveness. And he will not give it, he will watch them writhe in agony, as Izuku no doubt had, he will create a river of tears to wash away the ones he had shed.

The ruby is warm under his hand, pressed over his aching heart.

Vengeance is all he has left.

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