Work Text:
The winds of the Underworld flowed through the halls of Death’s palace and brought a strong chill along with it. Shouto’s sandals made little noise as he walked through the obsidian lined walls of his domain. The tips of the fingers on his right hand slid lightly along the wall as he walked, leaving trails of frost in their wake.
There was little natural light to be found in the palace of Death, the walls lined instead with torches lit by his father’s hellflame. The flames lit by the god of War were set to burn eternally, forever lighting Shouto’s stay in the palace. Many years had passed since a much younger Shouto was shuffled through the gates of the Underworld by his father, freshly burned and missing his mother.
Shouto’s robes tickled his ankles as he made his way to the throne room and the golden circlet lined with sapphires and rubies weighed heavy on his head. The throne room was larger than any other room in the palace, with three jeweled thrones and faded tapestries lining the dark walls.
The largest throne, belonging to the Underworld’s old ruler, Enji, stood larger than the two at its sides. Though his father rarely visited the Underworld since being promoted to higher godhood, he still claimed ownership over the throne that should rightfully belong to Shouto.
On the right side of the largest throne was one that once belonged to Shouto’s mother. She was a minor goddess of ice and winter that was married to the then god of Death. Their union was meant to produce children that would broaden Enji’s scope of power, but only Shouto was ever considered good enough to take Enji’s place as the god of Death and ruler of the Underworld. His brothers and sister were left to minor god status, and Enji refused to allow them much contact in their youth.
Now he was grown, lonely, and forever tied to the darkest and loneliest place in the world.
Shouto used to be able to stand the thought of being stuck ruling his father’s old domain if only his mother would be there to support him the way she always had. But she was gone, and Shouto was alone. Though the souls of the departed often walked in and out of the palace, he never spoke to them for fear of them lashing out.
It was not hard to understand that souls that felt they left too soon would enter the Underworld with bitterness or anger, and being confronted with Death would likely cause some sort of negative reaction on their end. Shouto saved himself the trouble and stayed clear. When he was younger and much more desperate for some—any— interaction with someone, Shouto would consider walking up to some of the younger souls and starting a conversation, but he would always reconsider at the last moment and watch them from a distance.
Shouto approached his throne and took a seat, feeling the cool stone against his back. He was biding his time and taking a bit of a rest before his work began in earnest. Fall was just around the corner and Shouto would be needed in the mortal realm soon.
The latter half of the year was always a bitter time for Shouto.
Though he rarely ventured out to the land of the living, he had always appreciated the brightness and the vitality of all things that inhabited it. The plant life was breathtaking; the colors they filled the terrain with alongside their soothing fragrances were a comfort to Shouto whenever he set foot on the soft earth. Mortals themselves were fascinating. In spite of their limited time they pushed on and they not only lived, they thrived. There was something in that will to carry on despite an inevitable end that Shouto respected and admired.
He always did feel a slight pain whenever he had to begin his work and watch as the beauty that sprouted in spring and summer shriveled at his feet. There was not much use in spending too much time feeling bad, but knowing that he was the cause of the lack of color still stung.
Holding the title and duties of Death was not something just any god would be able to do, so Shouto supposed that there was some honor to be found in carrying the responsibility of taking life. That didn’t mean it didn’t feel at least a little like a burden upon Shouto’s shoulders.
***
Izuku worried his lower lip against his fingers in thought. There was much preparation to be done to bring about a successful beginning to the fall and winter seasons. He was currently sitting in a small meadow with two of his friends.
“Deku, if you don’t stop thinking you won’t have enough time to actually bring fall,” the Light goddess, Ochako teased. “Relax! You’ve gone over everything more than once already!”
“It’s my first fall organizing things alone!” Izuku argued, but he did try to visibly relax. “I just want to impress Toshinori…”
“Don’t you think that by being given status as a god of Life you’ve already impressed him?” Iida told him, with a raise of his pointy eyebrow.
Izuku felt his face warm and he sputtered lightly. Ochako laughed lightly and patted his shoulder to calm him down.
“Calm down, calm down!” She said as she stifled her giggles. “We just want you to take it easy before you’re too busy to take a deep breath. You’re going to do just fine, don’t worry about it.”
“I agree,” Iida said. “You’ve more than proven yourself worthy of your title, give yourself a chance to relax. Besides, all three of our schedules will be much too hectic to spend quality time together like this once the season starts.”
Izuku smiled and nodded. “You’re both right. All three of us are going to do our best!” Ochako cheered loudly and threw her arms around both boy’s shoulders.
Izuku had spent much of his life as a minor god who helped bring about the beginning of spring. His old duties lied much in the helping of crop growing, such as making sure the soil was good and full of nutrients for the seeds of whatever the mortals were planning on sowing.
Despite having a rather important job, Izuku had little shrines in the mortal world dedicated to him alone. Not many humans were aware that it was Izuku who helped keep their crops from dying out in the first weeks of development, and they often prayed to other, more well-known gods. The lack of recognition of his work would sometimes be discouraging, but after hearing the prayers unknowingly sent his way he would be inspired to continue his work with all his power.
The responsibilities of a god and their status can change; they can “move up” in status and have a shift in their duties as a direct result of that status shift. One of the best and more recent examples of a shift in godly status would be that of Enji. He had begun as the god Death and then “moved up” to a more prayed to god of War.
Izuku was content with his job. He liked being able to help humans with their harvests, to see their children plant their first strawberry seed and cheer when it began to sprout, to watch as the products of his labor made it so that the humans could live life healthily—he liked his job! But there was something in him that longed for more, to be something bigger.
He had resigned himself to forever remaining a minor spring god, had happily accepted it and began to do his work with more vigor than before.
That was when he made formal acquaintance with Toshinori, god of Skies and Fortune.
Toshinori had found Izuku in the middle of trying to save a small peach tree sprout. The poor thing had dried up as a result of a drought in the area, and Izuku was determined to see it continue to live.
“Young one, what are you doing?” Toshinori had asked, leaning over to see where the spring god had his hands cupped around the sad-looking sprout. Izuku did not look up from his work when he answered the god.
“This young peach tree has had a bad beginning to its life,” Izuku replied. “The rains haven’t reached this area in many months, and it’s begun to wilt. I’m determined to keep it alive.”
“Is it worth it to use your energy for a single seedling?” Toshinori had asked, having squatted down to join the younger god. “There are many more peach plants in this grove.”
“Every seed is worth saving,” Izuku argued. “The smallest pit has as much worth as a fully grown tree. It has the potential to feed many, and for that, it’s worth the use of my energy.”
The other god had gone quiet, prompting Izuku to finally turn to face him. Upon coming face to face with one of the most senior gods, Izuku’s blood went cold and he began to babble.
“Oh—! I didn’t even notice who you were I’m so sorry, I meant no disrespect I swear!” He said quickly, pausing for a moment to stand and bend slightly at the waist. Toshinori laughed loudly and clapped the younger god on the shoulder.
“Now, now!” He said. “There’s no need for such formalities. After all, I approached you! Now, regarding the sprout, I greatly admire your determination to keep it alive. Do you always put such spirit into your work?”
Izuku smiled and nodded. Looking back down at the healing sprout, he gave it a fond look. “All living things deserve to have an even chance in this world. Though the clouds have not found themselves in this valley in months, it’s still worthy of the opportunity to make it.”
Toshinori didn’t reply to that statement, and it made Izuku nervous. Did he insult the lord of the Skies by implying he wasn’t doing his job right? Would he take offense to Izuku’s honest replies?
“Hmm…” Toshinori hummed. “I suppose you’re right. I have been neglecting this side of the valley, haven’t I?”
“I-I didn’t mean to offend you!” Izuku said quickly, shaking his arms around. “You’ve been doing a wonderful job!”
Toshinori shook his head, raised a mighty fist and pushed upwards with a great pulse of air. Izuku’s eyes widened as clouds began to accumulate above the valley, showing promise for rain soon. He then noticed that the major god had been breathing rather deeply.
“T-Toshinori?” Izuku said, taking a few steps forward. “Is everything alright?”
The taller god sent him a tired smile and nodded slightly. “I’m afraid that took a bit too much energy from me. Do not worry, performing my job well these days has been taking a bit of a toll on me.”
Izuku went quiet and looked up to the skies, where the clouds had already darkened. In the distance, the owner of the grove had come out of his house and looked up to the sky. He happily ran back inside, and Izuku was able to make out cheers from inside his home.
“Were it not for you, young man, it’s likely I’d have continued to neglect this valley,” Toshinori said, watching the farmer continue to celebrate the end of their drought. “I had almost forgotten how much happiness can come from such a simple act. I suppose that’s why you tried to resurrect that tree, right?”
“Right,” Izuku replied.
The two had gone their separate ways after that incident. What Izuku did not know was that Toshinori had brought up the minor spring god at a meeting with the council of major gods. Toshinori had explained that Izuku’s dedication to his work had gone unnoticed for far too long, and nominated him for higher godhood.
The majority of the council found Izuku worthy of being granted higher godhood and promoted him from a minor god to a major god of Life and Seasons. Izuku was eternally grateful that after so many years he had finally become something bigger than he was before.
If Izuku was dedicated to his work when it was limited to spring, he was almost obsessed with it once he had been given higher godhood. His first summer was cheery; the most vivid flowers possible began popping up in fields, he worked with Ochako to keep the days bright, and made a deal with one of the ocean goddesses, Tsuyu, to keep the oceans at just the right temperature.
Now it was time for his first fall as the god of Life and Seasons, and he was determined to make the best yet. Which is why Izuku was taking the time to oversee nearly all aspects of what makes fall so great.
That day found Izuku walking through the fields of a pumpkin patch. Every once in a while he would crouch down to take a closer look at an individual plant and observes its progress. He smiled and dusted his hands of dirt, pleased with the overall growth of the patch so far.
When he looked up, Izuku spotted a figure cloaked in black in the distance mirroring his own action of bending over and inspecting pumpkins. It was a spot he hadn’t reached yet, so Izuku appreciated the help. Smiling softly, Izuku raised his arms and called out to the stranger.
“Hello? Are you here to track the progress of the patch?” The stranger didn’t reply, but Izuku was approaching him anyway.
The closer he got the stranger, the more Izuku started to see the work he had done. The pumpkins on that side of the patch were sunken in and rotting. Izuku felt the smile wipe itself off of his face. He saw the stranger lean down and inspect another plant. Something about it must have caught his attention, and his hand hovered over the pumpkin.
As soon as the stranger’s hand lifted, Izuku was able to see that the pumpkin was as dead as those around it. Any other words of greeting that were about to be uttered were caught in Izuku’s throat as he saw the remnants of the pumpkin. The stranger stood and turned to walk away, likely to continue his work.
Izuku threw himself forward and caught the stranger’s wrist before he could get much farther away. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”
The stranger turned back around and stared at Izuku with wide, surprised eyes. Izuku was immediately caught off guard by the look of the man.
Striking eyes, one a glacier blue and the other a startling grey met his own bright green and caused Izuku released his grip on other’s wrist. His hair seemed to defy possibility, snow white on the right and vivid red on the left. He was absolutely beautiful. With a nervous gulp, Izuku repeated his question.
The man bent over again to reach for another pumpkin, prompting Izuku to move to stop him again. The man raised a hand to motion Izuku to bend over. Doing so, Izuku stood shoulder to shoulder to the stranger.
“This side of the patch has caught a rot,” the man explained as he turned over a pumpkin that was indeed sick. “If left to continue, the whole patch would have become infected.”
“Y-You were getting rid of the pumpkins before the rot could continue to spread?”
The man nodded and pressed his hand on the pumpkin. It immediately began to die, and he placed it back on the ground. “It’s for the best that this happens. I’m sorry if I’m destroying your work, but—”
“You’re right,” Izuku interrupted. “It’s probably for the best, but I think that we should try to cure the rot before we resort to this.”
Izuku reached over for another pumpkin showing signs of rot. His hand hovered over it just as the stranger’s had and began to push some healing energy into it. Slowly, the rot that had begun to overtake it receded, and left behind a perfectly healthy pumpkin.
The man next to him took in a sudden intake of breath. “You’re a Life god…”
Izuku flushed and nodded. “Newly appointed. This is my first time overseeing fall, so maybe I haven’t been giving enough attention to everything.”
“No…you’ve been doing fine,” the man replied. “I’m-- I’m Death.”
Izuku felt his own eyes widen. “I see...That’s probably why you were taking care of these in the way you were.”
“I’m sorry. I can only deal with these things in this way,” he said, not meeting Izuku’s eyes. “If I could, I would’ve tried to save them.”
“No, no, you’re right. It would’ve spread to the rest of the patch. You did what you could,” Izuku paused, then, “Death, who are you?”
“I’m sorry?” The man asked. “I told you, I’m Death.”
“And I am Life. But I am also Izuku. You are Death and…?”
“Shouto. I’m Shouto.” The man, Shouto, replied.
“It’s nice to meet you, Shouto,” Izuku said with a smile. Shouto didn’t return it, but Izuku could swear the tips of his ears had gone a bit red.
“Izuku,” he said softly. “A pleasure.”
***
Shouto should have known. He should have known from when he first felt the grip on his wrist that things would begin to change for him. Because what could his encounter with the bright-eyed and beautiful god of Life be if not completely life altering?
In the past Shouto had little interaction with other gods, minor or major, so he was already at a disadvantage when it comes to conversation with others. He was completely lost when he was approached by the most beautiful being he’d ever met.
What a terrible first impression it was to be caught in the middle of killing the labors of a Life god.
For the first time in what felt like decades Shouto felt…warm. The dank atmosphere of the Underworld rarely lent itself to higher temperatures, and Shouto would forever refuse to make use of the hellflame that makes up half of himself, so the feeling was absolutely foreign to him.
When one thought of Life in nature they would perhaps see a field of summer flowers, rivers flowing with cool waters, or the chirping of birds. Fall had its own appeal; leaves of reds and oranges, the smell of spice from every mortal village, and the feeling of freshly baked bread. It had its own warmth to be found, Shouto knew this. But, he could feel his perception of Life and warmth completely shift the longer he stared at the god before him.
Shouto would continue to feel warm, as after the initial meeting Izuku had invited him to tag along with him on his rounds through the remaining half of the patch. Shouto held a pumpkin that Izuku had handed him with a concentrated grip, careful to not let his terrible power seep into it and ruin more of the harvest than what he had to.
“Shouto? Are you listening?” Izuku asked as he dusted his hands of dirt. Shouto looked up just to notice more dirt settled on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry?” He asked. Slowly he set the pumpkin back on the ground, now sure it was free of rot. “What did you say?”
“I said you don’t have to worry about getting rid of an infected pumpkin, I won’t be offended.”
“But…all of your hard work will die,” Shouto argued, his eyebrows furrowing. “It’s best if you heal them. Unless there’s another option I don’t think I should resort to killing them.”
He heard Izuku sigh and saw him pick up an infected pumpkin. He walked up to Shouto and pressed the gourd into his hands. Without thinking, Shouto allowed his killer touch to reach the surface of the vegetable and begin to rot it from the outside in. Shouto gasped and quickly went to drop the pumpkin before he could do more damage when Izuku’s hand pressed his closer.
“Shouto, this is your power,” Izuku insisted. “Why do you hesitate to use it?”
“There’s nothing good that can come from it,” he replied. He allowed his power to continue seeping into the pumpkin. With a disgusted look, he let it fall to the floor. “No one is happy when Life ends, that’s the way it is.”
“Now that’s not completely true,” Izuku said.
“You’re Life!” Shouto argued. “You haven’t had a lifetime of being the cause of beauty in the world disappearing. Things die, that just how things work, but no one is happy when the things they treasure go away.” Shouto looked towards the ground.
“My earliest memories involve hearing others cry. In my domain I have to hear the moans and groans of the departed, wishing they had more time on earth, and calling out to their loved ones they can never see again. No one likes being dead. No one likes Death. No one likes being Death.” Shouto looked up, his dual eyes cold. “That’s the way it is.”
Izuku worried his lower lip but didn’t say anything else. Shouto didn’t blame him. What would be the right response to such a display of emotion? Shouto turned his back to Izuku, leaving the god of Life behind to cure the rot himself.
His brusque walk turned into a run the closer he got to the Underworld, closer to his cage.
After the first interaction, Shouto avoided traveling out of his domain in fear of running into Izuku. But he couldn’t keep away forever. After all, someone had to kick start winter and the responsibility fell onto his shoulders.
Fall soon gave way to winter, which forced Shouto to step off of his throne and start working. It was a routine winter: making sure any trees with leftover leaves dropped them, letting the air around him chill much lower than the prior months, and herding any straggling animals to hibernation.
Taking a small break, Shouto decided to rest in a small garden. Across from him was a small camellia bush with little buds ready to bloom. Shouto smiled softly to himself and got as close as he dared to watch the camellias bloom in the cold winter air.
The white camellia flower was the one bit of life that Shouto refused to kill. It was his favorite, and it brought him comfort to hold one before it rotted in his hands. There were vague memories in the back of Shouto’s mind of times long ago; times where Shouto sat in the lap of a minor winter goddess as she mentioned to him that camellias were her favorite flower.
Shouto faintly registered the sound of snow crunching behind him but was too into his head to really react to him until curly green hair tickled the tip of his right ear.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Said Izuku, startling Shouto.
Seeing Izuku approach him again caught Shouto off guard, especially since Shouto was prepared to never again meet with the Life god. With a tiny nod of his head, Shouto pointed to the blooming camellias.
“My mother and I used to come here,” Shouto whispered. “I would sit in her lap and we would watch the camellias bloom in the summer. We both weren’t busy at the time, so we were able to take long breaks to just go flower watching.”
“When she…when we stopped being able to see each other, I couldn’t bear to kill them by the time fall and winter came along. I suppose they started to bloom only in the winter after that.”
“So you’re the reason these stopped blooming in summer!” Izuku whispered as if he was afraid anything louder would stop the buds from blooming. “They started to bloom in the winter, and none of the other spring gods could ever understand why, but now I see!”
“Shouto,” Izuku breathed. “Do you understand what you’ve done?”
Izuku didn’t sound particularly angry, but Shouto had learned to not always trust the tone of one’s voice in regards to their anger. Now, Shouto didn’t deal with plants and flowers unless it was to complete their life cycle; he didn’t have a clue as to what he did, he only knew about what it was he didn’t do.
“No…?” He answered, an eyebrow raised. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no!” Izuku quickly replied. “The exact opposite! Shouto you’ve singlehandedly created a floral phenomenon. Forget the mortals trying to understand it, we haven’t been able to figure it out.”
“I’m sorry,” Shouto said. He still didn’t completely understand where Izuku was going with all of this, but an apology was probably his best bet.
“I—” Izuku stood suddenly, “Don’t be sorry, Shouto. The winter camellia bloom is one of my favorite parts of winter. Sure I didn’t know why they bloomed when they did, but I love watching them do it.”
“Oh…” Shouto looked up at the Life god. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”
Izuku’s cheeks got an interesting pink hue to them, and he began to babble again. Something began to shine in Izuku’s eyes, and he stopped rambling. He quickly, but politely, excused himself and started running in the direction where he came from.
Shouto could only blink in surprise. With a slight wave of the hand, he saw the other god off.
***
When Shouto saw Izuku next, it was a week and a half later. He was in the middle of inspecting a patch of land by a lake that had frozen over.
“Shouto!” Izuku had called out from off in the distance. Behind him was a rather tall woman with long black hair tied up in a ponytail. Both were slightly winded when they approached him.
“Hello, Izuku,” Shouto greeted. Looking past Izuku, Shouto saw that the woman was holding a large number of scrolls in her hands. She seemed rather excited, nearly bouncing in place.
“Shouto, this is Momo, Muse of Poetry,” Izuku said, motioning to the goddess. “She has something to show you.”
“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” She gestured to the scrolls in her arms and grinned. “Not just something, many somethings! I’ve been holding onto these for years, never knowing who they would be dedicated to, but now I see that they properly go to you.”
Shouto picked up one of the parchment rolls and unfurled it. On it was a long poem about the winter camellia blooms; the language that was chosen to describe it was completely beautiful, calling them an unknown treasure. The poet was expressing great joy at the sight of the white petals on bushes, feeling blessed by an unknown god or goddess for being able to see the flowers flourish in the cold winter air.
“Is this a poem dedicated to the camellias?” Shouto asked, looking to the rest of the pile in the Muse’s arms. “A-Are there more?”
“Many more,” she answered, already handing the scrolls over. “Many of the mortal poets that I inspire have written about the winter bloom, but none of the spring or summer gods and goddesses have taken responsibility for it. When Izuku here came to me with this new information, I realized that I could finally place the works you’ve inspired into your
hands.”
“Momo, show him the most recent one, please,” Izuku said, looking fondly at the way Shouto held the scrolls close to his chest. “There’s one more for you, Shouto.”
Shouto tore his eyes away from the works inspired by his actions, to see Momo pull out a new parchment from within her robes. The paper it was written on was brighter in appearance, time still not taking effect to yellow the parchment. She handled it carefully but seemed especially eager to hand it over to Shouto.
“When Izuku came to me, I knew I had to spread the word,” she explained. “I went to my most favored mortal poet and, well, passed along the muse. She did marvelous work.”
The other gods were quiet while Shouto read the poem; it was a long love-letter to Death himself for refusing to take a beautiful flower, admiring him for being able to go nearly centuries without recognition of his work, and how Death doing his job allowed for a more vibrant spring and summer. One line, in particular, caught Shouto’s eye:
And why would humanity dare to resent Death, whose heart wants and is capable of the same selfishness as man?
“I think that if the works of a god are the inspiration for any poem, it should be given to them,” Momo said softly. “I’m just sorry it took so long to get these back to you.”
“N-No, I didn’t think that there would even be works based on the bloom, let alone me,” Shouto told her, still slightly stunned, “I’m— Thank you.”
He wasn’t quite sure who the thanks were meant for, Momo or Izuku or the mortal that acknowledged him by name.
“Of course,” Momo said. “It’s what you deserve.” She paused for a moment to let out a soft sigh. “Now, if you will excuse me, I should be getting back to work. I hope to meet you again, Shouto. Until next time, Izuku.”
Izuku called out his own farewell but stayed at Shouto’s side.
“I…I can’t believe you would do that for me,” Shouto finally said. “After I left you so rudely.”
“Nobody should hate being themselves,” Izuku replied. “Your power hasn’t only brought bad things into this world, you’re holding undeniable proof of that fact. I just wanted you to know that you’re still good, no matter what power you hold.”
Shouto could only stare. “Izuku, you’re strange.”
“Probably,” Izuku replied. “But it looked like you needed something a little strange.”
“I think I did,” Shouto said, smiling down at the god of Life and Seasons.
***
Summertime consisted of the few months out of the year Shouto could take a good rest.
Aside from mortals, not much really died from late spring and into summer so the lack of work allowed him to get a good nap in from time to time. It was difficult to sleep for more than a few hours at a time in the Underworld with the moaning and groaning of the dead, but Shouto would take what he could get.
However, what he could get was not much, which is why that particular morning found Shouto wandering the surface for a good place to nap. He found a small meadow with the right amount of sun and shade and planted himself down.
It was quiet for all of an hour when his rest was interrupted. The grass crunched under the feet of a stranger and delicate hands gripped his circlet and pulled it off of his head.
“Guess who,” the stranger sang.
“Hello, Izuku,” Shouto replied, sitting up. He slowly rubbed the sleep out of his eye and watched as the Life god pouted upon being discovered so easily.
“It’s nice to see you out, Shouto,” Izuku said. “I didn’t expect you to spend much time out of the Underworld.”
“It’s—” he paused to yawn “—it’s much warmer up here.” Shouto tucked his robe closer to himself. “I like sleeping in warm patches.”
Izuku perked up. “Ah, that’s Ochako’s doing. She loves keeping summer days sunny and warm.”
Shouto smiled lightly. “In that case, you’ll have to pass along my thanks to her.”
The smaller god laughed and nodded. There was a moment of silence between the two until Izuku broke it again. Leaning closer to Shouto, Izuku asked, “Would you like to join me? I still have some things to attend to, but I’d love the company.”
The hopeful shine in Izuku’s eyes caught Shouto by surprise, and he could only nod. Izuku grinned and grabbed Shouto’s hands, pulling him up. “Where are we going?”
“The butterflies should be migrating back for the summer and I have to make sure they make it back okay,” Izuku explained. “It’s a pretty view so I, uh, I thought you’d like it.”
“Alright then,” Shouto agreed. “Lead the way, Izuku.”
The smile Izuku gave him was so bright, Shouto would’ve easily believed it was him that was the light god.
The hill where Izuku would oversee the return of the butterflies was not too far from where Shouto has chosen to doze off. At the peak of the tallest hill, the two gods waited, with Izuku filling the air between them with excited chatter.
Soon enough, from off in the distance, Shouto caught sight of a large mass of flying creatures. “Izuku, I see them.”
“Ah!” The other god yelled excitedly. “We’re just in time!”
Shouto watched as the swarm approached them, not noticing the slightly nervous shuffling of Izuku’s feet. Once the swarm of butterflies had reached them, Izuku stuck his hands up in the air and they came to flutter about them.
It was almost like being in the eye of a tornado, the sight of it all making Shouto’s breath hitch. A kaleidoscope of colors surrounding them. “It’s beautiful…”
“Shouto, here,” Izuku said, drawing his attention to where the smaller god had a few butterflies sitting on his finger. “Put your hand out.”
“I shouldn’t,” Shouto replied with a little shake of his head. “Watching them from here is enough.”
Izuku was not content with that answer and chose instead to reach for Shouto’s hand himself. “You won’t hurt them.”
“I don’t want to risk it.”
“There’s no risk, I promise.” It was the resolve in his eyes that ultimately made him allow Izuku to take his hand. He moved it into a cupped position and led the butterfly walk from his hand to Shouto’s own.
Shouto watched with bated breath for something to happen, but nothing came. A gentle touch under his hand caused Shouto’s eyes to move up to Izuku. The smaller god had one of his hands cupping Shouto’s own, the other guiding another butterfly on his finger.
“See?” Izuku said quietly. “I promised you. Everything is okay.”
The words left Shouto’s mouth before he could really filter them. “It seems every time I meet you, you end up changing my world.”
Izuku startled and scared the butterflies in their hands away. He began to talk rather quickly, saying that it wasn’t much, but Shouto shook his head. He reached forward to grab Izuku’s hand and interlocked her fingers. Life quieted, his eyes widening at the contact.
“Thank you, Izuku,” Death said as he gently squeezed the hand in his own. Izuku sprouted cherry blossoms in his hair, flowers a shade just a bit lighter than that on his cheeks.
For a god that was always talking, Izuku was silent. For once Shouto was the one that filled the space in between.
“I don’t know why you decided to help me, to make me do things I’ve always avoided, but I’d like it if you would continue to do it. There isn’t much I can offer in return, but I promise I’ll find some way to repay you.”
“You don’t need to do that!” Izuku said, suddenly snapping out of his stupor. “I’ve never expected anything in return.”
Shouto hummed but gave the hand in his another light squeeze. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve something.”
“I…” Izuku laughed and squeezed back. Shouto leaned closer. “I mean…can I…c-can I get a kiss?”
Shouto’s free hand moved to rest against Izuku’s cheek and the other god leaned into the touch. Shouto laughed as his thumb caressed the tops of Izuku’s cheek. “I’d scour the earth for jewels; I would place every diamond, ruby, and emerald at your feet if you asked it of me, and all you want is a kiss?”
“It’s worth infinitely more,” Izuku mumbled. “Jewels are pretty, but you’re beautiful.”
Izuku leaned forward to place a light kiss on the corner of Shouto’s mouth.
Death smiled and returned the affection, losing himself in the kiss when he felt Life’s hands rest along his waist. When they broke apart, Shouto allowed himself a moment of selfishness and buried his face into Izuku’s shoulder. Izuku gave the side of his face, the scarred side, another light kiss.
“Stay with me?” Shouto asked. “I’ll stay with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”
“Forever then,” Izuku promised. Shouto tightened his hold on Izuku.
“Forever.”