Chapter Text
a boy favored by dragons
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You can do this, Katsuki… Bakugou clenches his fists and repeats the assertion to himself: You can do this. There might not even be any dragons, and even if there are, they’ll be in the trap, so it’s fine... Right?
Checking the dragon traps is Bakugou’s least favorite job. There are eight of them set up along the cliffs bordering their village: huge metal contraptions dug into the canyon sides. Bakugou hates everything about them, but when his father asked if he could handle the job, he couldn’t say no. As the next Viking chief, he’s supposed to be fearless and responsible—even if he’s only eight years old.
“This isn’t so bad,” Bakugou mutters as he approaches the cliffside, more self-reassuring than optimistic. “It could be empty. It looks—“
His words dry up like worms in the sun. There isn’t a dragon in the trap, but there is a boy. A stick-thin, trembling boy. He can’t be much older than Bakugou himself, but the difference between them is that Bakugou isn’t stuck in a dragon cage.
How’d he even get in there? It’s designed to snap closed when a dragon flies in from underneath. There’s no way a human can be inside.
Bakugou crouches on the edge of the cliff, and the boy locks eyes with him. He’s got the weirdest hair Bakugou has ever seen, like fire and ice all in one. His eyes are strange, too: two halves of a storm, steel gray and icy blue. He’s dressed in peasant’s clothes, and his bare feet are pale against the metal cage. The longer they stare at each other, the tenser the boy becomes.
“How’d you get in there?” Bakugou calls. The boy flinches in reply, pressing himself against the bars of the cage with wide eyes. Bakugou leans farther over the cliff edge with a frown. “Oi, can’t you talk?”
When he gets no reply, Bakugou clicks his tongue and heads back the way he came. He can’t get the cage open by himself… and he really should tell someone before doing anything, anyway. Of course, he doesn’t know what he should do. The longer he thinks about it, the more confused Bakugou gets. No kid can climb into a dragon cage. It’s just… impossible.
As Bakugou passes through the village gates, people call out to him from their doorsteps. He waves at them, trying to keep his shoulders square and back straight. He’s been trying to act more chiefly, but he mostly comes off as uncomfortable. He’s still got ten years to go until he takes over from his dad, so at least he’ll have time to work on it.
“Katsuki, you’re back early.” Bakugou’s mother, Mitsuki, glances up from the spear she’s polishing with a suspicious frown. “You couldn’t have checked the traps so fast... What happened?”
“Where’s Dad?” Bakugou asks, avoiding the question.
Mitsuki looks like she wants to whack him, but after a moment, she gives in and jerks her head at the spiral staircase tucked away in the corner. “In the observatory.”
Of course: He’s always up there when he’s not out patrolling or stuck in a war meeting. He’s got a thing for exploring. He keeps all of his maps in the observatory, which doubles as his study.
Bakugou scurries clumsily up the stairs, sticking his head over the banister at the top. His dad Masaru is sitting at his desk by the open balcony doors, frowning at a map that’s been stabbed into the wooden surface with a cartographer’s knife.
“Dad?” Bakugou waits to be nodded at before approaching the desk. “Dad, something weird happened.”
“Uh-huh,” Masaru mutters without looking up from the map.
“I was checking the cages.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And there’s this kid stuck in one of them.”
“Uh—” Bakugou’s father stops mid-syllable and looks up at him for the first time. “Wait... What did you just say?”
“In the dragon cage,” Bakugou repeats. “There’s a boy in there.”
Masaru steps away from his work: something he won’t do unless a situation is dire. “Show me.”
* * * * *
Bakugou and his father stand surveying the cage, and the mysterious boy still trapped inside. “I thought you were lying Katsuki, but...” Masaru shakes his head. “He really is trapped in there, huh?” Walking closer to the edge, he taps the cage with his boot. “Hey, kid!”
The boy jumps, nearly whacking his head against the metal bars. When he looks up at them, his face shows that he’s definitely not happy to see them. He won’t hold Bakugou’s gaze for more than a few seconds before hiding his face in his knees again.
Masaru frowns. “Does this kid speak Japanese?”
“Dunno. He wouldn’t talk to me.” Bakugou crouches beside his dad on the cliff’s edge, squinting at the huddled boy. “He looks like a foreigner. I’ve never seen someone with such weird features.”
“You’re right,” Masaru mutters, scrutinizing the boy’s tense form. “It’s definitely not a nationality I recognize. Could be far from the North, though. Look at how pale he is.”
“How do we get him out of there?” That really should’ve been Bakugou’s first question.
Masaru sighs. “If I open the cage, he’ll fall. I’ll lower you down on some rope, and you can grab him. Think you can do it?”
The part of Bakugou that’s been gifted with common sense screams ‘no way in hell!’ but a larger part of him—the part that wants to be a perfect son—says, “Sure.”
Only when he’s dangling over a fifty-foot drop does the common sense side grow more insistent. Of course, it’s too late now: Masaru has his hand on the mechanism that will release the cage. He glances at Bakugou for confirmation. Things can’t get any worse when he’s already dangling on a rope, so he nods.
Masaru pulls the lever, and the boy shrieks when the cage dumps him toward a pancake-ey death. Bakugou swings out to grab him, their bodies colliding harshly. The boy must be smart enough to realize that Bakugou is saving him, because he latches onto his neck for dear life while Masaru pulls them up.
As soon as his feet touch the ground, the boy tries to make a run for it. So much for gratitude. Bakugou holds him back just long enough for Masaru to grab him and tie his hands behind his back. “Whoa there. Sorry, kid, but we can’t let you run off.”
“What are we gonna do with him?” Bakugou asks skeptically.
“You’ll be in charge of him for now.” Masaru says it like it’s some great privilege. ”As chief-in-training, it would be good for you to get a sense of responsibility, Katsuki.”
You could just get me a dog, Bakugou doesn’t say. “Okay, then what do I do with him?”
“Keep track of him while I try to find his family,” Masaru says distractedly, adjusting the fur-like cape draped over his shoulders. “You can do that much, right?”
No way. No. Way.
Once again, Bakugou’s inner thoughts are left unheeded. Being the chief’s son is a disease, he thinks, and a very terminal one. Be smart or make Masaru proud: there’s no in between. But maybe deep down, some part of him feels sympathy for this scared boy. Looking into his two-tone eyes, Bakugou is trapped by the unnerving beauty. Make his father proud? Sure, but a part of him is slowly deciding that he wants to do this for himself, too.
Besides, he doesn’t want another long speech about responsibility. The last one was longer than an hour, and he learned nothing other than to never again let his parents know when he did anything fun. (Apparently, skipping stones became a crime when you accidentally hit someone in the head with a rock.)
“Yeah. I’ll watch him,” Bakugou settles on eventually, forcing his gaze over to his dad. He’s not watching them anymore, already heading back down the hill.
“I’ll leave it to you, then.”
Those feel like the words that’ll be chiseled on Bakugou’s gravestone.
* * * * *
They look at each other. Bakugou raises an eyebrow. The mystery boy shifts, eyes falling to the rope around his wrists. A piece of wood shifts in the fireplace in the corner. Neither of them says a word. Bakugou was hoping he’d start talking if they were alone, but no such luck. He’s just staring with his scared, pretty eyes. Why is he so pretty? Boys aren’t supposed to be pretty, are they? This guy looks like he could be a princess.
Okay, Bakugou can’t keep staring or it’ll get creepy. It’s probably already creepy, actually. He should say something.
“So… you gonna talk or what?”
It doesn’t seem like the boy will reply, but he opens his mouth after a moment of tense silence to whisper, “No,” in a voice softer than a spring breeze. Bakugou tries not to be too surprised, squaring up for the interrogation he’s supposed to initiate.
“What’s your name? Can you tell me that much?” Shit, Bakugou’s being too soft. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t summon up any ill-will toward this kid with his stupid pretty face. It’s throwing him off in all kinds of ways.
Surprisingly, he gets a half-murmured answer: “Shouto.”
A name is progress, at least. Bakugou leans forward in his chair, holding back his excitement. “Katsuki’s me, but you probably heard my old man say that. Where’d you come from, Shouto?”
There’s another long pause: Shouto isn’t very talkative. “Far. Can you untie me now?”
“How old are you?” Bakugou asks, ignoring his request. He seemed simple-minded before, but he speaks with a reserved sort of intelligence.
“Eight. Untie me.”
“So we’re really the same age, huh?” Bakugou sits back with a frown. “Where are your parents? And how’d you get stuck in that cage? I’ve been trying to figure it out, but it doesn’t make any sense.”
“My friend was trapped,” Shouto replies, losing his patience. “If you didn’t have those stupid cages set up all across the cliffs, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten stuck setting him free.”
It takes Bakugou a second to make sense of his words. There’s no other way to interpret what he just said. “Wait, so you’re saying your friend is… a dragon?”
“...No.” Shouto hesitates for too long to make his answer convincing.
“Ha, that’s totally what you’re saying! But how can that be true, though? Dragons are monsters. They hate humans.”
These words set Shouto off. “You’re wrong! It’s the other way around: Dragons want to be at peace, but the humans always trap and hurt them.” His mismatched eyes burn with an unusual fury. “You’re the monsters.”
Even though he knows Shouto can’t move from the chair his wrists are tied to, Bakugou scoots back a little anyway. “You’re saying you actually get along with the dragons?”
“What if I do?” Shouto’s posture becomes guarded: he must realize he’s opened up too much. “It’s none of your business. You’re the chief's son, aren’t you? Make him let me go.”
“You’re perceptive,” Bakugou mutters, getting up to add another log to the dying fire. “Even if I am, he doesn’t listen to me. He’s training me to take his place, so whatever he does is what I should do, and I don’t think he wants to let you go.”
Shouto’s tone changes from anger to desperation. “You don’t understand, Katsuki: I need to get out of here. When the dragons find out I’m missing, they’ll be—“
A loud, ear-piercing roar interrupts him. The whole room rumbles from the ferocity and pitch of it, knocking a glass off the table. It shatters on the floor. Bakugou grabs onto his chair to keep from falling out of it, feeling his teeth vibrate against each other. “What the hell is that ?” he manages to ask before the next roar.
Shouto’s face pales. “I need to get outside right now, or they’ll burn the village down.” He locks gazes with Bakugou. “Please. Even if I hate your kind, I don’t want to kill anyone.”
Bakugou knows he shouldn’t listen to a word this weird, probably dangerous boy says… but a bigger part of him really wants to. As it happens, that part is already untying Shouto’s wrists. “Fine. I’ll take you to the edge of the village.”
When the last knot is unfastened, Shouto pauses to grab Bakugou’s hand. His eyes seem huge this close up. “Thank you, Katsuki.”
Bakugou pretends he’s not blushing. “Sure, whatever.” He steels himself and pulls Shouto out the door. “Come on: we need to hurry.”
* * * * *
It’s been three weeks since Bakugou helped Shouto escape, and he’s barely started earning his dad’s trust back. Masaru has him doing all the worst jobs, from cleaning the stables to restoring horses—and, of course, checking the dragon traps. Bakugou thought he wouldn’t have to after his slip-up, but Masaru must’ve realized that it’s his least-favorite thing to do.
He hasn’t minded it that much recently. Maybe he thinks he’ll run into that boy— But no, he shouldn’t even be thinking about him. Shouto is 1.) friendly with dragons, which Bakugou’s tribe hates, 2.) long gone, and 3.) probably never coming back. All of that is true, but… Bakugou can’t seem to forget him.
When he first sees him in the dragon cage again, Bakugou thinks he must be hallucinating. He’s been thinking about this exact thing happening for ages—and why would someone he helped escape be right back where they started a month earlier? Surely he’s seeing things because of the heat.
But it’s September. Which means this is real.
“Shouto?” Bakugou kneels at the edge of the cliff, and a familiar pair of mismatched eyes peers up at him through the bars.
“Hello again.” Shouto clears his throat sheepishly. “Um… I’m sorry, but I got stuck again.”
Bakugou wants to tell him (very happily) that he doesn’t need to be sorry, but he sighs instead. “I’ll go find a rope.”
Over the next several months, Bakugou catches—and then releases—Shouto a grand total of sixteen times. After the fourth, he stopped being surprised and started checking for him every day. After the tenth, Shouto started staying after Bakugou let him out.
By December, they’ve become close friends. Bakugou finally gets Shouto into clothes that aren’t rags, and what’s probably the first pair of shoes his well-callused feet have ever seen. He figures he’ll tell Masaru what’s going on eventually… But for now, he wants to spend as much time with Shouto as possible—even if it means keeping the biggest secret of his life.