Chapter Text
Izuku despised Shigaraki. Hated him with every bone in his body. Hated the way he mistreated him.
But that was fine.
He was fine.
He’d learned to cope with disappointment a long time ago. To shove it down into the deepest part of him. Lock it away.
Along with the desperate hunger he had to get out.
He’d had hope at first. They’d comforted him when his mother had died. Been like a second family. Which is what they were supposed to be. Until the period of mourning was over and they locked him in the attic for a week, with only a pitcher of water and a dry excuse for a loaf of bread.
That flaming beacon of hope had long since been stifled.
He’d be lying if he said it hadn't ignited every so often. But now, after eight years, it barely ever rekindled.
Extinguished each time he scrubbed the floor until he bled. Until his arms cramped and back ached and knees rubbed raw, and then rushed to make them a meal fit for the gods, to burn his hands on the oven. To make a mistake and face the consequences.
Sure, who’s hope wouldn’t die after that?
Positive thoughts were hard.
Optimism was even harder.
Still, he tried.
He guessed.
———
Izuku scrubbed at the floor, washing away all traces of dirt. For the "guests" Dabi sometimes brought home. Though he knew exactly how little they cared about the floor, Dabi still insisted it was spotless. He and Toga all had extra jobs they liked having done, adding to Izuku’s list. Which never seemed to end in the first place. He repeated the sweeping motion, a curl of green hair falling loose from the cloth he kept wrapped around his head.
His back ached. His heart clattered against his ribcage, each beat almost painful in its intensity.
He just wanted to lose himself in the monotonous task.
Maybe it would be better to not think.
No.
He couldn’t.
Negativity was a disease.
Very infectious.
Deadly.
He’d go mad.
Izuku tucked away another thought.
Storing it in his archive.
He carried on scrubbing.
———
A knock. Just a simple knock. But it was enough to startle him out of his pace. Izuku knew he had to go answer it. Maybe it was the Prince. Though, he highly doubted it. Just fanciful thoughts. If it was His Highness, Izuku would have been long gone. He was never allowed to catch sight of His Highness on the rare occasions of his stay. Though, he had caught sight of the heir, once.
Many years ago.
His “family” didn’t know about it.
Of course they didn’t.
He would have gotten a hiding otherwise.
He’d just been polishing their best silverware in the corner, when he’d been dragged off the floor and shoved out by Toga, screamed at to run because the Prince was early. The silverware had clattered to the floor. He had bent to pick it up when Toga lost her temper. An unsurprisingly common occurrence.
His stepsister had picked up a knife, sharp steel glinting, and thrown it at him.
Izuku had run from the room, blood streaming down his cheek, tears welling in his eyes. And, as he ran across the top of the ornate marble staircase Shigaraki had come into possession of, he caught a glimpse of him as he passed. His Royal Highness Prince Katsuki Bakugo had been swarmed by Toga and Dabi.
Katsuki had laughed, joked. He seemed to get along well with them. But his eyes had met Izuku’s own as he had fled across the marble. Red to green, adored to forgotten.
And then the crackling electricity between them vanished, as Izuku skidded round a corner and leaped up the stairs two at a time.
Out of sight and out of mind.
Irrelevant. Izuku forced himself out of the memory and back to the painful present as a second, harsher knock forced him to his feet. He carefully avoided the polished part of the floor, skirting the shine to the grand oak door. Izuku tugged his sleeves down, hiding a wince as the rough fabric skimmed over the raw patches.
He hoped his threadbare trousers hid his legs.
And bruises.
His limbs felt limp and heavy, useless as sandbags.
‘Is this the residence of the Shigaraki family?’
‘Uh, yes. How can I help you?’ Izuku leaned against the doorway, his knees creaking ominously.
‘I have a letter, from His Royal Highness Prince Katsuki.’
Izuku’s head reeled as it struggled to process the man’s words. The messenger’s lip twitched as he eyed Izuku. His clothes were fine, royal blue with gold inlays. Some kind of palace servant, then.
‘Doesn’t His Highness visit often?’ He questioned, sparing a pointed glance at the ragged clothes, glasses flashing.
‘Yes, yes he does. Apologies.’ Izuku swept into a low bow, nose skimming his knees.
‘Quite.’ The messenger raised a brow and passed him the envelope. ‘Who are you, exactly? You are certainly not Shigaraki Tomura’s son.’
‘No.’ Izuku laughed slightly, uncomfortable in many ways. ‘I’m their- well, kitchen boy.’ He stopped himself from adding his mother’s name. The man’s demeanor changed, becoming more open. Friendlier.
‘Ah, well. You look familiar. Where are you from?’
‘Far away.’
‘Oh.’ He seemed to deflate, black hair flopping across his brow. ‘Well, enjoy your day.’ He turned away, mounting his black horse.
‘Oh, and if you should wish to reply to the message and confirm your presence, ask for Iida Tenya at the servant’s gate of the palace.’ Iida saluted, fingers firmly pressed together and rode off as Izuku shut the door tightly. His heart was doing backflips in his chest.
Izuku’s hands shook.
His fingers touched the creamy parchment, running over the golden embossment and the dark blue wax seal. The epitome of extravagance.
He caressed the corners as he moved to sit on the stairs, skirting the polished floor absentmindedly. He slipped a nail under the crease of the fold. Wax silky under his fingertip.
His arms were trembling as he stared and stared, slowly prising the wax off the parchment.
He halted.
He shouldn’t be doing this.
It would not go down well, to say the least.
Izuku tossed the letter away like it was on fire and went back to cleaning the floors.
After all, the messenger hadn’t said it was urgent.
———
Dinner. His most despised time of the day. Izuku rushed around the kitchen, taking the whole chicken out of the blazing hearth and nestling it upon a silver platter, heaping steaming vegetables into a tureen. He tucked the letter under a plate as he carried the chicken up to the dining room, balancing numerous other dishes on his arms.
His head was heavy, the world swaying. His feet stumbled over the top step of the grand staircase, sending Izuku crashing into a wall, his forehead smacking the cool stone.
He paused for a second to let the lightheadedness fade, letting his face press against the wall. A great sigh escaped him, something he seemed to be doing more and more often.
He desperately needed sleep.
It was fine.
He was fine.
Shigaraki gave him free food. Free board.
It was only fair that he did something in return.
He was lucky. Luckier than most.
Lucky that he hadn’t been tossed out on the streets.
Lucky that Shigaraki had decided to be generous when Inko had died.
Izuku pushed through the dining room doors, hands burning under the heat of the dishes. Dabi lounged in front of him, his legs elegantly crossed over the arm of the mahogany chair. His sister fiddled with a knife, appearing bored. Izuku scurried towards the table, placing the dishes with a bow and presenting the letter to Shigaraki. His body shook with nerves as he took his place against the wall, allowing himself a moment of respite to shut his eyes tight.
‘Hm. Interesting.’
Izuku dared to peek up from beneath his eyelashes, watching as Toga sat up straighter. Dabi disregarded his father entirely, choosing instead to rip a leg off the chicken carcass.
‘What is it?’ Toga twirled the knife between her fingers.
‘An invitation.’
‘To what?’
‘A ball, hosted by the King and Queen.’
Toga squealed, pressing her flushing cheeks together as she shot up. Izuku stared from his mute position on the wall, heart beginning to tap dance in his chest.
‘ “All the noble bachelors and bachelorettes of the kingdom of Musutafu are henceforth invited to a festival to celebrate the coming of age of His Highness Prince Katsuki Bakugo. His Highness shall be selecting a spouse from amongst the festival-goers over the course of three days.”’ Shigaraki drawled, Toga’s face flushing more and more, even as Dabi appeared indifferent. Izuku fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other.
‘So?’ Dabi drawled, rolling his eyes through a mouthful of chicken and peas.
‘Dabi!’ Toga pouted, bouncing in her seat. ‘This is our chance to marry the Prince!’
‘Yes, because he adores us.’ Sarcasm dripped from Dabi's tone.
‘Don’t be so negative!’ Toga grinned, still caught in the throes of excitement. ‘Do you know what that could do for our social standing? We would be second to none!’
‘That does sound appealing. And, it could help further our plans.’ Izuku felt his ears perk up, eyes darting to and fro.
What did they mean by plans?
The conversation became a simple murmur in his ears as he struggled to process, his tired brain whirring. He didn’t notice he was muttering until the faint words halted.
‘Izuku!’ The sharp voice cut the air like a knife, jolting him.
‘Y-yes, my lord?’
‘Stop that muttering, now!’ He bowed frantically, apologizing. After a moment’s awkward pause, Dabi spoke.
‘Say, Izuku. You wouldn’t happen to want to go to the festival, would you?’ Izuku’s heart stopped, fists clenching. He knew it was bait, but he couldn’t help but leap for it like a starved dog.
‘I… If I was allowed to attend, then yes, I would like to go.’ He spoke hesitantly, choosing his words with great care. The smirk on Dabi’s face became almost predatory.
‘And, dear Izuku, what would you do to attend this ball?’
His reply was whispered, barely audible.
‘Almost anything…’
‘Izuku, outside, now.’ Shigaraki ordered, an evil glint in his eye. ‘Dabi needs to teach you a lesson, of sorts.’
‘Y-yes, sir.’ Izuku struggled to keep the tremor out of his voice, fisting his hands in his pockets as he padded out the door.
———
Izuku sprinted away from the stately mansion, deep into the woods. Tears streamed down his face as he careened past trees, delving deeper into the forest. His head hurt and his back hurt, blood streaking down from a belt-shaped gouge, staining his shirt. He disregarded the pain, just kept going.
To the only place he knew that was his alone.
His sanctuary.
He scrubbed his face desperately, stopping by a weeping willow hanging over the river’s edge and slumping against the harsh bark. His body shook with sobs, chest heaving and shivering.
He could still…
He could still feel the god-awful pressure of Dabi’s lips against his.
The blinding rage and disbelief that made him shove his stepbrother away.
His back forced into the stone wall as Dabi told him to bend over.
The stinging agony of the belt striking his flesh.
The sultry purr to Dabi’s voice as he caressed the gouge, whispering his conditions of Izuku being allowed to attend.
Each word a knife.
Izuku clenched his lips together, forcing back a sob as he curled into a ball. His eyes squeezed tight shut. Ignoring everything.
His mother’s voice whispered in his ear.
‘You must be kind, Izuku.’
His breaths shuddered in and out, slowly calming him. He rose to his feet, making his way over to the edge of the river on wobbly legs to plunge his face into the icy water, kneeling in the mud. The faint rays of the twilight sun cast a shadow on the water, the blackness calling to him. He leaned further forward, his reflection undulating.
And then he was underwater, the current catching his clothes and dragging him downstream, icy cold stinging his skin and body. Reeds stroked his skin as he was hauled away from the bank, pushed under the surface. He tried to scream, bubbles emitting from his mouth, current batting him about and he could feel his lungs burning and heart pumping and eyes staring and weed stroking and frozen fingers clawing and he couldn’t see the surface and his vision began to go black and-
Nothing.