Chapter Text
Blue everlasting, stretching farther then the eye could see. The strong smell of salt and brine, wafting gently. Gulls calling. The lap of water against the sand. It was akin to a song, a love song that few could hear. The glittering of the water was more tasteful then any diamond Bakugou had ever seen.
“Pay attention!” The swift rapt of a ruler across his knuckles broke his musings. He twitched against the sharp pain but didn’t let forth any other reaction. The etiquette teacher glared down at him, but Bakugou met her gaze with equal vitriol.
“You are a fortnight from turning seventeen, Bakugou-sama. Your parents are expecting the utmost delicacy and tact from you, so you must, for once in your life, listen. “
“Tch.” Bakugou turned his head back towards the sight of the ocean before him. What he would give to be out along the surf, ankle-deep in the water. The sand under his feet, the sun against his hair. . . that was what he wished for. Instead, he was forced into another etiquette lesson on dining as apparently his parents weren’t pleased by his behavior at their last dinner. He didn’t care. Those fancy dinners, ruffled clothing, what use were they? Boring, the lot of it. Just once, Bakugou wished to step onto a ship and sail. Just once would satisfy the swelling in his heart, and then he would listen to all his parent’s lessons. A knock on the door interrupted the lesson.
“Bakugou-sama.” A maid peeked her head in. “It is time to get dressed for your birthday party.” His teacher sighed. She hadn’t gotten through even half of the review she had planned. Bakugou smirked at her frustrations as he followed the maid from the room.
“Mistress Bakugou has picked out the most lovely attire for you tonight.” Bakugou didn’t care. His mother’s opinion differed from his own on clothing. He knew he would hate whatever she picked. Still, he didn’t make a fuss. He followed the maid to his room and let her dress him. Silks and satins, finery made in the sheen of ivory. She draped it over him. It was a color of youthful innocence, a traditional color for the coming of age. They painted his face, softening the harsh cut of his jaw and the sharpness of his eyes.
Bakugou did not have a pretty face. No, his face was made of sharper things, things that shouldn’t make up the face of such fine blood. His mother had told him this plenty. Too many teeth, she would say, smile gently, as if looking at a lover, not as if you are a wild cat about to strike. Unruly. Wild. Sharp. Untameable. These were the things he loved of himself, but they were also the things they always covered first.
“You are ready, Bakugou-sama.” The maid stepped away and Bakugou lifted his face.
He wore the traditional Furisode, the majority of it in whites. Delicate, pink flowers grew up the sides. His hair had been struggled with, tamped down with oils and gels. More beads, bells, and flowers had been weaved into it. It was a strange creature staring back at him because surely no amount of clothes nor makeup could change him so. Yet, it moved with him when he was pulled from the mirror and sent along to his own birthday party.
“Welcome, the young heir, Bakugou Katsuki!” Polite clapping filled the air, and Bakugou could only look down at the crowd below him. He felt hollow inside. He didn’t smile, his expression didn’t change, but still, he walked down to meet the crowd of people who were there to see the only son of the Bakugou family. It continued like that. He nodded when they wanted him to nod, held a fan over his mouth so they wouldn’t see him smile. He laughed. He danced. He wanted to cry.
“Bakugou! Come over here!” The loud squawking of his mother was something he couldn’t ignore. She beckoned him over. “Have you met the Midoriya’s yet?” He had heard of them. They were new money, new blood, but very successful. They imported expensive salts, spices, and textiles from new lands. Despite not having a title, they were a well-respected family.
“This is Toshinori-san’s youngest son, Izuku-kun. He is your elder by five years, he plans to continue his father’s business with his elder brother. He has requested the privilege to court you now that you’re of age-“ A buzzing filled his ears. He stared blankly at the men in front of him. Izuku, the son, grinned back at him. He was clearly embarrassed, but also excited. He wasn’t an ugly man. He had filled out working on his father’s ships, his skin browned by the sun. His hair was curly, a color that reminded Bakugou of sea brine. For a moment, all the emotions Bakugou had been repressed pressed forward. He wanted. He wanted so deeply, desperately, he would fight for it to his dying breath, he needs it, he needed-
“Bakugou-san?” The young man inquired. His face looked wary, likely sensing Bakugou’s swift change of temperance. It was like a switch. Bakugou smiled gently, his eyes softening again. He was sweet. He was soft. He was but another pretty face.
“Tell me about your work, Izuku-san.” He demurred. The first words he had spoken all night. His mask was firmly set back on, but underneath he felt anew. He wanted. He wanted, not the man speaking eagerly in front of him, but the sun-browned skin, the brine in his hair. He wanted the ocean.
A highborn omega was not permitted on the ocean, they were too precious a treasure.
“Across your cheekbone, the blush goes.” The maid instructed. Bakugou was slowly learning how to apply the makeup. He had always refused to before. Now, it was expected of him since he was no longer a child.
“Isn’t it exciting, Bakugou-sama?” Another maid smiled. She was smoothing down his hair and lacing it with ornaments. “A date with Midoriya-sama! I’m very envious of you. He was shown such decorum in his courting. You are very fortunate to draw his attentions.” She gushed.
Bakugou smiled blankly in the mirror at her, nodding like a marionette. They had gone on two dates now. Izuku had been a gentleman on them both and held a sweet demeanor. He was an honest man, hardworking. He would make a great husband. Bakugou hated him with every bone of his body. Every time he saw the callous’ across the other’s palms, the tan line at his wrists, the salt-crusted on his shoes. He hated Izuku.
“Mistress Bakugou said today you would be visiting the port. She shared with Midoriya-san how you enjoyed watching the comings and goings of the port as a child and thought it might be a nice trip for you. They said you will even see a few of the Midoriya family ships! It sounds like such an exciting day. You must love seeing your future husband’s work. It is every omega’s dream to have such a wealthy, hard-working husband.”
Bakugou set down the makeup brushes. He couldn’t bare anything more on his face, his painted face. He looked in the mirror and saw that same creature. A smiling doll, eyes blank and lifeless. He couldn’t face himself. He turned to look out the window instead. The ocean was plain to see through the glass, the rolling waves spreading out far behind the horizon. Bakugou imagined he was at the pinpoint of the horizon. Far enough away that no ship would be able to catch him as he sailed. He wished for it.
“Now, you’re finished! I’ve never seen such beauty. You are really coming into yourself and maturing.” Right, he barely remembered. Before he would scream, punch, cry if they tried to stuff him in such formal clothing. He had refused to paint his face. . . hadn’t he realized how much easier it was to hide behind makeup and finery? Hadn’t he realized that it was easier to hide the despair in his soul?
“Come on, Bakugou-sama. Your suitor is waiting for you!” It seemed but a blink before he was sitting next to Izuku in the carriage, pattering along to the ocean’s port.
“Though it’s only been days since I last saw you, it feels like weeks,” Izuku spoke shyly to him. His cheeks were tinted red. “Every day I look on you, you seem more beautiful than the last. I look forward to our meetings more than anything else.”
Bakugou fluttered his eyelashes and tittered back at him. A play to make him seem flattered and touched by the words of sweetness. Inside, he sneered. How he wished he could strike the man before him and see the red that would swell beneath his skin at being hit by an omega. He idly wondered if he were to do such a thing would the other strike back? He wished for the sweet pain it would bring. Craved it more than the words of affection Izuku was displaying. The carriage stopped.
“Your mother told me you used to come and watch the ship’s passings as a child. I did much the same growing up until I could sail myself.” Izuku assisted him in stepping from the carriage. The port was bustling, crates of imported goods brushing by them and people of all types rushing by. “Look, that ship painted in the red, blue and gold. That’s my father’s ship. He has a fleet of twelve. He wishes to purchase a thirteenth, but that would be too unlucky.” Bakugou followed Izuku’s finger to look at the grand ship before them. It was well outfitted, plenty of cannons to defend itself and built to be strong and quick. The flag proudly hung high, the symbol of All Might across it. Bakugou knew already that the ships were all named All Might, he had learned so from his lessons. It was a warning to any that crossed them that the sailors would fight for their goods with All their Might to protect. It was a glorious banner. Bakugou felt nothing seeing it.
“Hmm. . . that’s strange. I haven’t seen this flag before.” He raised his hand to shade his eyes, looking at the ship past his father’s. “It looks to be a banner with a grey hand-“ The boom of a gun interrupted him. Bakugou jolted at the sound. Izuku pulled him close. Men scattered from the sound.
“B-Bakugou-san, I think it is not a good day to visit the po-“ Izuku started, pulling them away, but they were not quick enough with Bakugou crippled by his tall sandals. A man, dressed in black tattered clothing dashed through the crowd. He drew a sword, the whining of a metal scream as it drew. They couldn’t move a step further before it was drawn to Izuku’s unarmed neck.
“Don’t move.” The voice didn’t care for volume. He knew that his prey was listening. “Silly boy, you shouldn’t bring an omega to port. They’re easy prey in their finery and riches.” One of his companions stepped forward, grabbing Bakugou’s arm and pulling him away from Izuku. Bakugou tried to pull away, but with the tall sandals and his legs getting caught in the heavy fabrics, it was hardly an effort.
“Please. I’ll give you all the money I have in my purse. Please do not touch my companion.” Izuku begged. Tears already bit at the corners of his eyes. The point of the sword pressed to the soft skin under his chin. Bakugou couldn’t look away from the silver gleam of the blade. The assailant laughed.
“No, I know a treasure when I see one. This omega will ransom for much greater than any money you hold. This is a high blood omega, it’s worth is more than your purse.” Harshly, Bakugou was pulled down the dock. Men converged around him, carrying stolen goods and crates. They all jeered, laughed and shoved. Bakugou wildly tried to pull away, but his efforts were in vain. Soon enough, he was being pulled onto the ship and Izuku was nowhere in sight.
Bakugou sat in a heap, silks around him. Hours ago he had been stolen away from his home, but that didn’t matter to him. The ship swayed beneath him, lulling him. His face was turned up to the wind, the sea spray dancing in his hair. He felt like he was waking up for the first time in his life. Even with enemies around him, Bakugou had never felt so alive as when he was sitting captive in the ocean.
“We are far enough now. They won’t be able to catch us, not after sabotaging All Might’s rigging.” A man drew near to Bakugou. His hair was ragged, the ends broken and uneven. It was a strange color, a dull grey. His lips were broken and bleeding. Scurvy, Bakugou assumed. He looked sickly.
“It is only polite to introduce one’s self, as I’m sure you know. Mine’s name is Tomura, I have no family name. I am the captain of this ship. We are called the Villain’s League.” He sneered down at Bakugou, but Bakugou didn’t pay any attention. He was on the ocean. Nothing mattered more.
“Ah, is the little omega too good to speak to someone like I?” Tomura sneered. His hands clenched uselessly at his side. “I will tell you, omega. All Might’s ships will not reach you in time. Nothing can save you now except the grace I extend to you.”
Bakugou didn’t listen. They were so far out on the water that he couldn’t see the land where they had come. Ocean was on all sides, gleaming bright ocean.
“You cannot escape. Even if I handed you a blade, I suppose all you could do with it is slice your little stomach open. Is that better than being at our hands? I will give you a choice. Slice open your stomach or slice open your clothing so I may see your bare visage.” Tomura sneered down at him. His hand extended forward, a simple knife extended to his captive. Bakugou startled out of his trance-like state and looked at the knife offered. He took the handle with his slim fingers and gazed at the blade.
“I have never held such a thing before.” He spoke softly. His voice was raspy. He had not spoken since the night of his birthday. The pirates had gathered at Tomura’s offer, eager to see the untouched pale skin of an omega. They laughed at his truthful words, jeering and mocking. Their eyes held malice. Blood or bare skin, they cared not. Bakugou knew that they would be upon him the moment the silks hit the ground. Untouched he would be no longer. “The pointy end, it goes here?” Quick as a snake, his eyes lighting with a fire hidden, Bakugou darted forward.
He drove the knife into Tomura’s side, smiling too wide and too sharp for polite society. His mother had always hated that smile. There was a half-second of shock, where not a soul moved. Then, a low groan came from Tomura and released them all. Bakugou’s smile turned so soft and sweet, just as he was taught. He twisted the knife, still buried in Tomura’s flesh and released the handle. Fast as a wild cat, Bakugou leaped back. Tomura fell to the ground, a sound of pain coming from him.
“KILL THE WHORE.” His voice was venom, eyes piercing through the haze of hair. Their eyes met, moments before Bakugou leaped away from the ship and dived into the ocean’s depth beneath them. He could hear them screaming, hands trying to grab him as he fell, but none of that mattered. Bakugou was where he always wanted, to die a death within the arms of the ocean.
“It was a black flag, with a grey handprint across it! I’m sure of it!” Izuku said frantically. “We must follow it immediately!” Toshinori placed one of his large hands across his son’s back. Scarcely an hour ago the port had been attacked, with the good’s ransacked, but more importantly the Bakugou heir kidnapped. Their family ships had been sabotaged and none would be fit to sail for some hours to come. The attack on the port had been planned well.
“Father!” Izuku turned to him, tears in his eyes. “They took him! Right from my arms!”
“Izuku, calm yourself. They will surely send a letter asking for ransom. Young Bakugou is not lost to us yet.” Toshinori implored. He felt deep regret. Izuku had been so smitten with the young omega. Such a submissive boy, so shy he hardly stuttered a word the entire night of the party. Toshinori knew that with patience and a guiding hand, the omega would slowly come from his shell. He had seen it before. Young Bakugou needed a good-willed husband like his son, they were a good match. Though, Toshinori didn’t know if the omega’s mind would survive such an ordeal. Such scum was surely not going to leave a beautiful virginal omega untouched.
“Izuku. . . You need to prepare yourself.” Toshinori was hesitant to even voice his thoughts, but Izuku had to be prepared. “Bakugou-kun is such a tender soul, such a sweet submission of a character. Under the rough handling, and such traumatic conditions, Bakugou may come back more broken then you can imagine. Do you still wish to court and marry him, despite this hardship that comes between you?” Toshinori knew the answer before Izuku said a word. Determination filled his son’s eyes.
“Father, I-I think I love him.” He remembered the soft curve of Bakugou’s smile, lips painted a demure pink. The paleness of his skin, always protected from the sun. His hair, fine and glossy, the lightest shade of blonde he had ever seen. Those eyes, always downcast and red as blood, a stark change from his soft appearance. That one occasion, Bakugou-san had looked past Izuku’s face, his eyes sharpening on something in the distance. The fierce emotion that swelled beneath the red. He wondered what Bakugou, the gentle and sweet Bakugou, had been thinking of at that moment. “Yes, no matter what, I will stand by Bakugou-san’s side for as long as he will have me. Still, I worry, Bakugou has a soul that could never hurt another. His disposition is too soft. I hope his spirit doesn’t break despite the circumstances.
Bubbles rose. Bakugou sunk down further, his mouth screaming silently into the ocean depths. He raised his hand towards the surface, the palm sticky with blood slowly dissipating into the saltwater. He sunk deeper, the silks weighing him down under the water. He didn’t care. He was finally with the ocean. His heart’s only desire. Bakugou felt like he was living for the first time, even as he sunk to his death. His wish had been fulfilled. He had asked to sail upon a ship before death, and he had. He would die in the ocean’s embrace.
Bakugou’s eyes snapped open again. It wasn’t enough. He wanted that feeling again. He needed it. His time was not now. Grinning a shark’s grin, Bakugou began twisting himself. He squirmed from the fabrics. He pushed towards the surface, the pale yellow robes of an unmated omega sinking into the depths behind him. He surfaced, gasping into the open air. The pirate's ship was already far ahead of him. He could hear them still screaming, panicking over their injured captain. He wouldn’t go back. The ocean would guide him to where he needed to be. He just had to last long enough.
Bakugou would conserve his energy. There was no point in swimming, with nowhere to swim to. He still was in his undergarments, so he dipped his head and blew air in it to help him float. Bakugou would drift, trust in the embrace of the ocean.
Hakamata Tsunagu was a pirate, but he was not a bad pirate. He considered himself to be fair. He treated his crew fairly, paid them what they were due. They were a loyal bunch. They concentrated their efforts on robbing foreign ships, to not harm Japan’s economic success too badly. He was musing on his own character when he spotted it. A pale form, floating in the ocean. Fabric plumed away from the body, looking like the wings of an angel. His curiosity was piqued. They were too far from the nearest coast to see anything but ships.
“Fish that body from the water. We shall see what bounty it brings.” He ordered, his voice soft. He never spoke louder then he needed. He didn’t believe in leading through a raised voice.
His men followed the order. They sunk a net around the prone form and pulled it from the ocean’s surface. His eyebrows raised. The figure grew stranger still. The body was wrapped in an omega’s garments, the fabric near translucent across fine skin. Hakamata drew near, his hand touching the wrist. The skin was cold, the hand blue.
“Dead.” He remarked, sadly. He was curious of what stories this figure would have to tell. Then, a flutter, the strength of it shyer then a butterfly’s wings. “No. . . alive.” He pushed the body to its back and didn’t spare a glance to the figure’s face before he pressed his lips to the cold blue. He breathed into the body. One breath. Two. The form stayed still and prone. He pressed more air into the body’s throat. He had been in the water for too long, that was plain to see in his blue fingers and toes. Fate would take this life still. Once more, Hakamata pushed air into the body.
A gurgle.
Quick as the swordfish leaping, Hakamata turned the body to its side, just as he began to puke the ocean’s water. Eyes fluttered open, punctuating the sweet gasps of a living omega. Even drenched and half dead, Hakamata found himself admiring the beauty before him. The omega was clearly high born. He had heard tales of the innate gentleness of a noble-born omega, of the beauty and poise they naturally possessed. He wondered how such a soul had ended up half-drowned in the ocean’s grip. After all, no one sane would let a noble-born omega sail. It was far too dangerous for their sensibilities. They were creatures that couldn’t take even take rough words, much less the harsh life on the ocea-.
“That fucking bastard, I shoulda killed ‘im.” The omega breathlessly gasped, before he fell into unconsciousness. Hakamata was frozen in shock for a moment. He hadn’t expected such dirty language from one so delicate. He thought it over for a moment. It seemed the legend of the high born omega was just that. Legend.
As if the omega knew he was being questioned, he barred his teeth in his sleep.