Chapter Text
Stegocentipede.
Poisonous bite, scorpion-like stinger on the rear, razor-sharp plates of hardened bone down its back in two rows—
Midoriya Izuku throws himself to the ground, narrowly avoiding being sliced in half as the creature darts forwards, then quickly back, the saw-like blades whipping his hair as they pass above and hit the wooden fence beyond with a crunch!
He turns, making a split-second assessment of the damage, and finds the wall of the house beyond miraculously intact. Lucky - but he can’t afford letting another strike past his defenses. The villagers’ lives depend on it.
He grits his teeth, his fingertips reaching for the sword knocked from his grip by the impact, finds it, reclaims it.
Attacks in a sawing motion, cutting its enemies with—
“Deku-kun!” Uraraka calls, and he rolls as the creature’s stinger drives into the ground where he would have been.
Uraraka shrieks, and Izuku whirls back around in time to see Iida dart between her and a row of organic blades, his sword screeching as he wedges it into a ridge between segments of the creature’s body.
“Our attacks do not appear to be effective!” Iida observes, straining with the effort of keeping his blade from being pulled from his hands.
Heavily armored on its back… so they should target—
“The underside!” Izuku yells. “It’s weak on the underside! Uraraka-san!”
“Right!” she responds, bringing her hands together to begin channeling her spell.
“Iida-kun!”
Iida shouts his acknowledgment, and Izuku lifts his sword as it begins to glow, swinging it back before charging at the creature.
A stegocentipede - he leaps over the tail as it attempts to cleave him in two - they usually live in the Badlands, what’s it doing all the way down here?
His thoughts are interrupted by a high-pitched cry, and his head snaps around with alarm to locate its source: a child, covering his head with his arms as the creature swings its tail around in his direction— crap!
His body moves automatically, so fast that, in any other situation, he might question its physical possibility, but all he’s aware of is his arms closing around a small, terrified form, bracing himself as the tail swings around, stinger poised to impale him and— CLANG!
Iida knocks the tail aside with a wide, powerful swing of his longsword, and Izuku unfurls, a hand on the child’s shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
“Midoriya-kun!”
The tail swings back around, and Izuku pulls the boy onto his back. “Hang on!” he yells, and ducks out of its range, keeping low - it’s so fast, and well-equipped in both defense and offense—
He’s so busy with the tail, he doesn’t see the head coming. Izuku barely manages to bring his sword between its mandibles, gripping the hilt and blade in a horizontal block, and it’s seconds before he starts to quake, his strength beginning to fail, no match for the creature’s power with the child clinging to his neck. He grits his teeth, pressing his heels into the ground, pushing, pushing with all his might—
A moment of hesitation has the monster driving him to one knee, his boots stripping the grass from the ground as he struggles to regain his posture. Damn it - focus! Uraraka—
He glances across just in time to see her complete her spell, throwing her arms out with a burst of pink magical energy. “Anti-Gravity!”
Izuku summons as much strength as he can muster, pushing the monster’s maw back with a ragged yell as its body begins to rise off the ground.
“Now, Iida-kun!”
He doesn’t need to double check, confident that his teammate is moving in tandem as he brings his sword back, infusing it with radiant energy the way he has hundreds of times before, and sweeps the glowing blade up and across, sending a wave of yellow-white force upwards at the creature’s exposed underbelly. At his side, Iida’s yell mirrors his own, and the force of their attacks sends the creature flying.
One by one, the nearby trees at the town’s boundary tear in two as the force of the creature’s impact proves greater than their endurance, and it only - finally - comes to a halt when it hits a group of three with a loud crack!
The stegocentipede flails in midair, dozens of insect-like appendages searching for purchase that is only found when Uraraka’s spell fades, slowly returning it to the ground.
No sooner have its legs touched the grass than it scurries, weaving its way into the underbrush in the blink of an eye, the only clue as to its continued existence a series of gurgling screeches, rapidly decreasing in volume.
Izuku heaves a sigh of relief, allowing his weight to lean heavily against his sword. “It worked…” That might be obvious, but it still feels good to say it.
He shifts, reaching around to set the trembling boy down from his back. “Are you okay?”
The boy simply sniffles in response, clinging to Izuku’s sleeve until-
“Masaru!”
A woman stumbles through the farmhouse door, closing the distance with surprising speed and enveloping the boy in her arms.
“You can come out now!” Iida’s voice booms across the field at the civilians tentatively cracking open their doors. “The creature has been driven away!”
With that, the floodgates open: the initial wave, hesitantly stepping across their thresholds to confirm Iida’s claim; the second wave, smiles blossoming as fear gives way to relief; the third wave, cheers of gratitude erupting from the growing crowd that make this all worth it, and Izuku can’t help but break into a smile as children dash in their direction to admire their weapons, their armor, their bravery.
It’s a reminder of why he chose this: why he fights, why he risks his life every time he hears the cry of a civilian in danger, his destiny, his dream…
To be a hero.
“Phew!” Uraraka says, collapsing into a chair at the well-used wooden table, the inn buzzing around them in the aftermath of their victory. “That was close! What the heck was that thing?!”
Izuku takes a seat at her side, setting his bag on the scuffed floor. Oh - that reminds him…
Izuku reaches into his pack and pulls out a journal, flipping through pages upon pages of notes on monsters, wild animals, plant life, weaponry, armor…
“A stegocentipede… I remember copying information about them from the library, though I’ve never seen one…” he finds the relevant page, complete with a crude sketch, and skims his notes, his mouth twisting as he confirms his suspicions. “That’s what I thought… they live in the Badlands - they’ve never been seen south of the border before… finding one here… it’s really unusual. Why would it be all the way out here…?”
Iida claims a seat between them, adjusting his glasses, his armor settling into place with a clink. “That certainly is concerning… after all, the purpose of building settlements so far from the Badlands was always to avoid conflict with such creatures. Perhaps we should inquire at the town hall, they may have more information on possible causes of this strange occurrence.”
“Maybe it was just hungry?” Uraraka offers, while Izuku scribbles a note on the page - he’ll go over it in ink later, but he doesn’t want to forget…
A glass of water is placed on the table before him, and he turns as the server turns to leave. “U-um - excuse me!”
“Yes?” the man responds, tidy dark hair above tired-looking eyes.
Izuku frowns.
One hundred and seventy-eight centimeters, male, dark hair and eyes, mid-forties.
“M-Morita… Takeo-san, right?”
“Um, yes.” The man’s eyes dart aside, uncertain, before returning to meet Izuku’s. “Have… have we met?”
Izuku’s frown deepens, almost certain they have, but for some reason, he can’t seem to recall any specifics. Maybe it’s just deja-vu… “N-no, sorry! I- s-someone must have told me… never mind,” he says quickly, waving his hands dismissively. “I was wondering… do you know anything about this? About why that monster might have come down here…? It’s just… I’ve never heard of anything like that venturing so far south, so…”
The man shifts his weight, eyes flicking upward. “I can’t say I know anything about that, but… if anyone knew, it’d be Eraserhead.”
“Eraserhead?” Izuku says, intrigued.
Morita jerks his head towards a shadowy figure in the far corner of the tavern. “He’s a ranger - a good one, too, if his intelligence is anything to go by. Good luck getting anything out of him, though… keeps his cards close to his chest.”
“I’ll ask him,” Izuku says immediately, confident that if obtaining information from this ranger is what he must do, then he will succeed.
The innkeep blinks at him, before cracking a smile. “You got guts, kid. Good luck.”
Uraraka turns to him as Morita proceeds to the next table, glancing across at the ranger cautiously. “Deku-kun, are you sure you can convince him? He looks scary…”
“We won’t know if we don’t try,” Izuku says with that same confidence, pushing his chair back as he gets to his feet, and his friends follow.
The man does not move a muscle as they approach, staring at the opposing side of the booth from behind dark hair and bandages.
Izuku steps forward, willing the tremor in his limbs to abate. “E-excuse me… Eraserhead-san?”
Eraserhead does not move or make a sound, his chest simply rising and falling beneath his dark cloak.
Izuku glances at his companions for help, and Uraraka shrugs. He returns his gaze to the ranger.
“Um. Eraserhead-san, we- we’re adventurers, from Felucia. We came here to keep the village safe from monsters, and… we couldn’t help noticing that… the monster - the one that was taking livestock, it was… well, it was from the Badlands, and…”
“Hm? What?”
Eraserhead finally moves, his head twitching up, then around to blink at Izuku. “Who are you…?”
Izuku balks. “W-we’re adventurers from Felucia! Weren’t you listening…?”
“I was asleep.”
“A-asleep?!”
Eraserhead reaches for the empty mug on his table, tilting it towards himself to examine its non-existent contents. “Ah… I’m all out.” He glances across at the masses congregated in the space, Morita’s dark hair almost lost amongst the patrons.
Uraraka reaches in and grabs the mug with a pained smile. “I’ll get it!”
Izuku watches her retreat, then takes the opportunity to slide onto the bench at the opposite side of Eraserhead’s booth, attempting to corral the herd of wild horses that has hijacked his train of thought. “We’re… adventurers…”
“You said that already,” Eraserhead responds, folding his arms and fixing Izuku with bloodshot eyes.
“R-right!” Izuku says, flushed. “W-well, what I mean is… the monster that was taking livestock… it wasn’t from around here, was it?”
“Oh? You know that much, huh…? What’s it to you?” Eraserhead shifts, his eyes narrowing.
“W-well, we were worried that… those monsters… they live in the Badlands. If one was around here, then… why? What made it leave?” Izuku says, concern lining his expression.
“Mm…” Eraserhead says, peering off at the ceiling. “Why, indeed. Give me a reason I should tell a bunch of kids, and maybe I’ll help you.”
Izuku swallows, sweat beading on his forehad. For some reason, this guy makes him nervous… but he can’t back down, not if Eraserhead has the information he needs.
“We want to help,” he says. “If - if dangerous creatures like that are coming south, we want to stop them! To protect the people… it’s everything to us,” Izuku finishes, his hands balling into fists. “Please.”
Eraserhead stares at him, unreadable, inscrutable… until his eyes widen, hidden cheeks rising with mirth. “Is that so? You think you’re heroes, huh?”
“Yes!” Izuku says, desperation lining his eyes. “So please, tell us!”
Eraserhead’s gaze wanders to his newly refilled mug of coffee as Uraraka slides it onto the table in front of him.
“One black coffee for Eraserhead-san,” she says, with the brightest smile she can muster in her situation.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, pulling the mug closer before lifting it and taking a deep sip. “Well… I guess, in that case…”
The dark-haired man sighs, reclining against the back of his seat. “Do you know the barbarian king, Bakugou Katsuki?”
“Kacchan??” Izuku says, and everyone looks at him.
“What?”
“I believe he said Katsuki, Midoriya-kun,” Iida says, correcting him.
“R-right,” Izuku says, feeling the temperature in his face increase. He’s not sure why he said that. “Katsuki… it sounds familiar…”
“King Endeavor has had an… ongoing dislike for King Katsuki for some time,” Eraserhead says. “It seems that, recently, that conflict has escalated to all-out war. Endeavor’s forces have been sighted crossing the border into the Badlands.”
“And that scared the monsters…” Izuku says, the pieces falling into place. If an army invaded the creature’s habitat… it makes complete sense that the creature might flee. “What happened?!” he exclaims. “What happened to make King Endeavor do that?”
“Beats me,” Eraserhead says, shrugging. “I’m a ranger, not a politician.”
Izuku glances at his companions.
Iida meets his gaze, firm, resolute. “We must travel to the kingdom of Endeavor to resolve this issue.”
Izuku and Uraraka nod in response.
“Even if we can’t convince the king…” Izuku says, holding his chin while he contemplates. “If King Endeavor is away from his throne to attack Katsuki… then that means… his son must be taking care of the kingdom in his place. Prince Shouto…”
Half-hot, half-cold. Beautiful, mismatched eyes, a soft, fond smile—
Izuku shakes his head. “Prince Shouto… I’m sure he’ll listen. If we can talk to him, he’ll help us.” For some reason, he’s certain of it, though he’s also certain he has never met the Prince before.
“I must admit, I am not sure why you are so certain the Prince will be sympathetic to our cause, Midoriya-kun,” Iida says, as they make their way to their rooms a short time later. “It is entirely possible that he will defend his father’s actions, if they are even unreasonable to begin with.”
Izuku frowns. “I… I don’t think so. I don’t know, I just have this feeling… Endeavor, he’s… he’s strong, but he’s also proud, easy to antagonize. Prince Shouto…”
His heart swells, and he adjusts the strap of his pack as he ascends the stairs. “Shouto-kun will listen. I’m sure of it.”
“Do you have a spare water canteen?”
“Yes, mom—”
“What about a spare blanket? Are you sure you don’t need another blanket?”
“Yes, mom! I’m going to be late,” Izuku says, straightening up from lacing his boots, shifting the straps of the heavy backpack on his shoulders before meeting her eyes and giving her the most reassuring smile he can muster and trying to prevent his eyes from mimicking hers, welling with tears. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Time forgotten, they stare at each other for several moments, and Izuku’s lips tremble.
His mom is the one who breaks, throwing herself at him with a wail of “oh, Izuku! I’m so proud,” tears soaking his shirt as she clings to him for potentially the last time in months, and the dam breaks, his fingers gripping at her tunic as he shakes with his attempts to hold back his sobs.
“I’ll come back,” he manages, his voice breaking. “I’ll come visit!”
“Be careful,” she responds, and he nods against her shoulder.
They break apart, and he wipes his eyes, giving her another attempt at that reassuring smile. “I will,” he says, shifting his backpack and turning to grip the handle of their front door. “Well, here I go.”
Izuku stops mid-step, eyebrows pulling together into a confused frown at the sight that greets him: tall, rectangular, gray buildings, taller than any he has ever seen in his life, as far as his eyes can see; bizarre, metal, multicolored vehicles moving in stone streets, no horses in sight; thick lines hanging between posts…
“Izuku?”
He spins to find his mom - teary-eyed, yet glowing with pride, skin flushed from crying, deep green hair resting over the pink sweater covering her upper body as she watches him from a hallway he has simultaneously never seen before and seen a thousand times before.
Izuku struggles to reconcile the two facts, staring at the alien scene before him as the walls begin to melt, darkness stripping them not only of color but from existence, and he looks down at himself to find gray sleeves, navy stripes and pants, dark strips of nothingness creeping towards him along the floor— what—
“You’re so cool,” his mom says, and his gaze snaps up to meet hers.
“Mom?” Izuku’s hands begin to tremble as they grip at a jacket he should not be wearing, but before he can say another word, she’s gone.
“Mom!”
Izuku startles, almost throwing the heavy blanket off the bed as he abruptly awakens.
He blinks at the moonlit room for several moments. Where—
The dim light catches something by a desk - his sword, glinting at him across the room. That’s right. He’s at the inn - of course. Where else would he be?
He sighs, allowing himself to fall to his back in the bed with the soft crunch of hay, trying to will his heart rate to return to normal. That was… a weird dream, but… dreams are just like that sometimes, right? He misses his mom every day. It makes sense that she’d show up in his dreams.
But somehow, despite telling himself that, it takes until the moonlight disappears behind the window frame for him to push aside the shadow of anxiety the dream cast over his consciousness, and slip away from it once again.
Sunlight hits Izuku’s eyelids, and he rolls over as he wakes, squinting.
Not only did that dream interrupt his sleep, but the vague sense of unease, of wrongness it left in its wake lingers in his subconscious, lapping at the shores of normalcy.
He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. No time to think about that - they have work to do.
“Ah, Midoriya-kun! Good morning,” Iida exclaims with his usual enthusiasm from a table already set with tea, water and a selection of breakfast pastries. “We were about to wake you.”
Izuku takes a seat next to Uraraka, who is currently about as enthusiastic about sampling as many pastries as possible as Iida is about appropriate greetings. “Sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile. “I didn’t sleep very well…”
“You know, me neither,” Uraraka says, peering up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I kept having really weird dreams… there was a frog, but then the frog had a girl’s face, and she was telling me to do my best, and I didn’t know what she meant! Do my best at what?!”
Izuku laughs, only interrupted by thanking Morita for filling his cup with water. Uraraka is right - her dream wasn’t any stranger than his. Perhaps it’s just the inherent strangeness of sleeping in a bed that is not your own, though he’s not sure why that would suddenly be an issue now - they’ve been traveling for almost a year now, after all…
His mind wanders back to the problem at hand.
“In that case, I think it may be for the best that we spend today preparing for our upcoming journey and recuperating our energy,” Iida says. “That way, if the creature for any reason makes a reappearance, we will be here to lend our aid.”
Izuku nods, taking a pastry. It’s a good plan - if they wanted to leave today, they probably wouldn’t be ready until close to sundown, anyway, between replenishing supplies, gathering information about terrain and potential hazards, plotting a route and a schedule, distributing their supplies and making sure all items are packed for maximum efficiency in terms of access and protection from the elements, not to mention—
“Are you going to eat that, or just talk to it?” Uraraka says, as Izuku becomes aware that he must have failed to engage the notoriously unreliable filter between his brain and his mouth.
“Sorry!” he says quickly, finally stopping staring at the swirl of dough to instead take a bite. “That’s a great idea, Iida-kun. I have to take some notes, anyway.”
When he returns to his room to do so, though, he finds himself groaning into his palm when he removes his quill from his pot of ink and finds it completely dry.
“Uraraka-san? Iida-kun?” Izuku says, stopping outside their doors, holding the straps of his smallest pack. “I’m going to buy ink. Do you need anything?”
“I believe I am sufficiently stocked for now, Midoriya-kun, but thank you!” comes Iida’s declaration.
“Oh! Lavender oil!” Uraraka says.
“Lavender?” Izuku replies, blinking in an attempt to remember which of her abilities requires it.
“Yes, please!”
“All right,” he says, smiling at her bright tone. He can just ask her later. “I’ll be back soon!”
‘Soon,’ he finds out, may have been a little ambitious. He barely manages to make it half way across the tavern before being approached by appreciative villagers, and it doesn’t improve from there. He’s not sure how many times he says “thank you!” “you’re very welcome!” or “it’s our pleasure, really!” before he reaches the store, but it’s enough that when the shopkeeper asks him what he’s looking for today, he automatically exclaims “you’re welcome!” and then feels his soul attempt to leave his body with embarrassment.
The man blinks beady, blue eyes at him with confusion.
“Sorry,” Izuku adds quickly.
Not missing a beat, the shopkeeper breaks into a grin almost as bright as his blond hair, straightening up to beam at Izuku from his full height. “Oh, that’s all right! I was just worried that I said something else without realizing!”
“Oh, no, it’s my fault!” Izuku says, rubbing the back of his neck, finding the shopkeeper’s smile and demeanor contagious. “It was automatic…”
“Well, if you need something, just give me a shout!” the man says with another bright smile, bending back down to continue sorting the crate at his feet.
“U-um, actually!” Izuku replies. “Ink - I need ink.”
A few minutes later, Izuku exits the shop, sighing with relief and tucking two vials into a pouch on his hip as he steps back into the street, almost walking into a passing wagon. “Ah— sorry!”
The driver must not hear or see him, likely drowned out by the rumbling of wheels, the hoofbeats of horses and footfalls of townsfolk as trade and service begin to pick up for the day. It’s busy, but in the same way that a normally empty banquet table occupied by four might be considered busy: nothing compared to the bustle of a larger town or city, but healthy for a small settlement, and Izuku doesn’t even try to suppress the smile that spreads on his face at the stark contrast with yesterday’s cautious, fearful atmosphere.
“But- she sent us to get them together, so we should stay together!”
Izuku’s gaze follows the child’s indignant yell, frowning at the sight of two boys - no older than six, probably - bickering in the middle of the street, the smaller of the two tugging on the sleeve of the taller.
“She never said anything about staying together, stupid! It’ll be faster if we split up!”
“But it’s dangerous out by the well!”
“Yeah, maybe if you’re a weakling—”
“I am not!”
They’re so absorbed in their argument that they don’t see the wagon coming.
“Look out!” Izuku yells, darting forward, sweeping the children out of harm’s way and to the roadside in one swift motion.
“Hey! Watch it!” the driver yells as Izuku glances back, having clearly swerved to avoid them.
“Sorry,” Izuku says shakily before turning back to the children. “Are you all right?”
The shorter one nods tearily. The taller pouts, folding his arms and mumbling something.
“You should really be more careful,” Izuku continues, straightening back up with a concerned frown.
“Not my fault he’s too stupid to get the water by himself!” yaps the taller boy.
“I’m not stupid!” retaliates the shorter.
“H-hey, hey,” Izuku says, waving his hands in an attempt to disperse the tension. “What’s going on? Why are you guys fighting?”
The shorter boy answers first, clenching his fists and giving Izuku a pleading look. “He wants me to go get water from the well all by myself, but it’s all the way out there!” he cries, pointing at a less well-trafficked pair of wheel tracks leading out into the fields. “Mom sent us together so we wouldn’t have to go alone, what if a monster gets me?!”
“She never said that!” the older boy retorts. “She just told us to get seed and water, she never said we couldn’t split up!”
“Guys, guys,” Izuku interjects, before they can continue. It doesn’t look like either of them is going to budge… He gives them an encouraging smile. “All right… How about I go get the water for you? I can handle monsters. You guys can go get the seed and I’ll meet you back here.”
The older boy pouts again, but the younger is already answering for him: “really? Thank you!”
“Just… promise me you’ll be careful next time,” Izuku adds. “Okay?”
“We will!” the shorter boy says, bouncing with excitement. “C’mon!” He tugs on his companion’s sleeve, who reluctantly follows him towards the general store.
Izuku sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches them leave, glad to have prevented… well, anything much worse from happening. Picking up the water bucket, he glances over at the inn, just visible before a gentle bend in the muddy street. ‘Soon,’ he said. Why does he always end up regretting using terms like that?
It takes him another twenty minutes to make the walk down to the well - “thank you,” “you’re very welcome” - and back, handing the filled bucket to the older boy with one last, anxious reminder to stay safe before returning to the inn, politely declining an excessive quantity of baked goods on his way to his room.
“What took you so long?” Uraraka complains when he finally knocks on her door, but her expression reads more like concern.
“A-ah, nothing bad!” Izuku replies, waving his hands in apology. “T-there were these kids…”
She laughs, like a ringing bell. “You can never say no, can you, Deku-kun?”
“No, it wasn’t that at all! They were fighting… they were so caught up in arguing that they didn’t notice they were in the middle of the road, and… they didn’t see the wagon coming at all…” Izuku trails off, frowning, something about it sparking a strange sense of familiarity in the back of his mind: a bridge, a best friend, useless, weak Deku—
“Were they all right?” she responds, worry pulling at her eyebrows, and Izuku quickly shakes his head to clear it.
“Yes, they’re fine!” he says with a smile, extracting the lavender oil from his pouch and handing it to her. “Here. This is it, right?”
“Oh, yes! Thank you!”
“Oh! I wanted to ask…” he says, watching her happily accept the vial. “What spell uses it?”
“Huh?” she says, blinking at him, then glancing at the vial before bursting into a bright laugh. “Oh, no! It’s not for a spell. I just like the smell!”
Izuku feels like he really should have seen that coming.
A gentle summer breeze whispers through the leaves of the trees lining the sides of the immaculately-kept stone path, and Izuku blinks, squinting as he steps out of the shadow of one such tree into the afternoon sunlight, pausing to lift a hand to his forehead and block its rays.
“Midoriya?”
The figure a few steps ahead turns, stopping to fix him with a look of mild confusion. Half-white, half-red hair sways across similarly mismatched eyes with the wind, the only imperfection in his otherwise flawless skin a scar over the upper left side of his face, and Izuku stares, his heart beginning to thrum against his ribs.
“Midoriya.”
“H-huh?” Izuku says, blinking again.
“I asked you what it was you wanted to talk to me about,” the boy responds, brushing a stray petal from the shoulder of his blue waistcoat absentmindedly, and Izuku continues to watch him as he attempts to recall his name, certain he knows it.
It’s a few seconds before he mentally slaps his own forehead.
Half-cold, half-hot. Todoroki Shouto. This is Prince Shouto. Of course it is! How could he forget?
“R-right! Sorry,” Izuku says, quickening his pace to catch up, staring down at his shoes. “U-um, w-well, it’s - I wanted to ask you…”
He fidgets, feeling the temperature in his face increase. For some reason, he decides to risk a glance at the almost ethereally majestic figure by his side, and finds him simply watching, waiting, a fragment of curiosity fixing his eyes onto Izuku as if he’s the most important thing in the world.
Izuku has to look away for fear of exploding.
“I-it’s just!” he says. “W-well, since we’ve been, y-you know…”
Todoroki just blinks at him.
“You know! Since we’ve been…” Izuku pauses, as if hoping a freak incident will interject and save him from having to finish the sentence. When it doesn’t, he swallows, staring at the ground. “…b- b- boy—fr—en—” Izuku’s hands cover as much of his face as they possibly can as he attempts to say it. “Ahhh, I can’t do it!”
“Boyfriends,” Todoroki says.
“Yes! T-that…” Izuku says, wiping his forehead as he frees his eyes from obstruction. “I was wondering if- since we’ve been, u-um- t-that, for a month now… well, I was thinking maybe we could- do something, together? You know, something special.”
“Sure,” Todoroki says, and Izuku is almost certain that if he looks across that he’ll find the Prince failing to suppress a fond, amused smile. “What were you thinking?”
“Um, well… I was hoping you could give me some ideas,” Izuku says, with an apologetic laugh. “You know, of things you’d like to do. I feel like I’ve been choosing everything, you should get to choose, too!”
Todoroki looks away, at nothing in particular, the way he often does when he’s thinking, adjusting the strap of his book bag against his shoulder. “I don’t mind. I’m happy with anything.”
“That’s not true!” Izuku immediately interjects, frowning at him. “If you were happy with anything, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep during that movie…”
Todoroki looks at him, blinking. “I like sleep.”
Izuku stares for a few seconds before beginning to laugh at the absurdity of it.
An imperceptible period of time later, he forgets why he was laughing to begin with.
“Midoriya?”
Izuku opens his eyes.
Moonlight streams through the window, catching his sword through a break in the cloud cover. He sighs, bringing a hand up to rest across his brow, only managing to relax for a few seconds before his features tense into a frown.
Todoroki Shouto. He’s certain the boy in his dream was Prince Shouto, but… how could he dream so vividly about someone he’s never seen, let alone met? Not only that, but they were…
Izuku feels himself blush, automatically hiding his face further in his palm despite the fact that he’s alone.
Embarrassing content aside, something in his chest tugs at his attention, relentless, something about this dream and the one before it striking some echo of his consciousness as - somehow - impossibly – familiar.
“Thank you again!”
“Safe travels!”
“Good luck!”
Izuku waves goodbye to the never less surprising number of people who somehow learn of their departure and gather to wish them well, grinning and calling out responses until he almost trips on a loose stone and, consequently, decides it would probably be smarter to watch where he’s going.
They travel on foot, which is likely an advantage in the crisp fog of morning, keeping temperatures up even as their breaths greet the outside world as steam. It feels good to be moving again - staying in one place for too long always makes Izuku a little restless with the knowledge that there are others out there in need of help, other heroes and knights and mages to meet (and, hopefully, befriend), other places to explore and new discoveries to make…
Like whatever they will find as a result of their new quest. Todoroki Shouto… Endeavor… Bakugou Katsuki… Izuku frowns at the dirt road winding up and down the green hills ahead, the tugging inside his chest resuming its assault. He feels like he’s missing something. Something important.
“-Deku-kun?”
Izuku blinks, bringing his gaze back up to meet Uraraka’s wide, curious eyes with a short noise of questioning.
“You said you had a weird dream the other night, right?” she says.
“Oh, yeah,” he replies, eyebrows automatically tensing at their innermost corners. “Last night, too, actually…”
“You too, again?!” she exclaims with disbelief, letting out a frustrated whine. “Maybe I should have checked that place for enchantments…”
“Do not be too hard on yourself, Uraraka-kun. We had no reason to believe it might be enchanted - it would have been a waste of your magical energy to perform such a detection without any reason for suspicion,” Iida responds.
“I guess you’re right,” she says, still pouting. It only lasts a few seconds before she turns back to Izuku, curiosity reigniting. “What did you dream about, Deku-kun?”
“I-!” Izuku exclaims with panic, his face igniting. “U-um, w-well, it was… I think I saw the Prince. At least, I’m certain it was him. Prince Shouto. A-and… I was there, with him, and… he was asking me about… some kind of event, I think.”
“Well, that certainly is bizarre. I, too, saw the Prince in my dream,” Iida adds, a strange, grim tone to his words.
“Really?” Izuku says, almost tripping over his own feet with interest. “What did he look like?!”
Iida brings a hand to his chin, looking up at the blanket of clouds thoughtfully. “If my memory serves, I believe he had short hair in two different colors: white and red. Fair skin, and… a scar, on his—”
“—left side??” Izuku says, staring at Iida with disbelief. How did they both see the same boy? Maybe Uraraka is right - maybe there is some kind of magic at play…
Iida stares back, equally disturbed. “Yes.”
“Wait, so you both saw him?” Uraraka says, incredulous. “And he looked the same?!”
It takes Izuku several seconds to break eye contact with Iida, trembling with unease. “I guess so…”
“But… you’ve never met him, right? How could you both know what he looks like?” Uraraka continues.
Izuku frowns at the ground again. It’s a good question. He’s absolutely certain that he has never met the Prince, nor seen any paintings or other renderings of his physical appearance… and yet, somehow, at the same time, he’s also absolutely certain he knows the Prince. He knows Prince Shouto will be willing to lend his aid despite the King’s potential disapproval. He knows Shouto’s hair is half-white, half-red, his eyes mismatched in color, half-cold, half-hot. He knows the surprisingly soft, uneven texture of the scar around his left eye, the subtle smiles that convey his surprisingly complex inner world, the passion that emerges when challenged on a position he believes with all his being is right—
Izuku’s head spins, like a threat, and he sways, stopping in his tracks to avoid stumbling.
“…Midoriya-kun?” Iida’s voice swims through the fog currently settled among his senses.
Izuku remains still for several moments until he’s certain the feeling has passed. “Sorry,” he responds, shaking off residual discomfort and jogging briefly to catch up. “I just… I feel like something isn’t right. Like we’re missing something…”
“Ahhh, don’t say things like that, that’s creepy!” Uraraka exclaims. “Maybe you just both saw a guy like that at the inn yesterday and thought he looked like a prince! It doesn’t have to be something spooky!”
“Yeah, I guess it’s possible,” Izuku says with an apologetic smile. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing… sorry for worrying you!”
“Either way, we will find out when we reach the castle,” Iida says, and Izuku nods, shifting the weight of the pack on his shoulders and pressing forward, fixing his sights on the horizon.
And if the boy in their dreams was, indeed, Prince Shouto… well, they can deal with that mystery when it presents itself.
It’s twilight when they finally rest, sheltered somewhat from the chill that settles over the fields by a patch of trees, the crackling of a fire attempting to chase away the rest. It’s times like this that Izuku finds himself glad for that second blanket.
“…it’s a cool name, but he seemed kind of shifty…”
“Eraserhead?” Izuku says, looking up from his notes.
“Yeah! Why don’t we have names like that?” Uraraka continues, pouting slightly.
“I believe it is simply because we never felt the need,” Iida responds. “Eraserhead-san is likely attempting to conceal his true identity, for whatever reason.”
Izuku sets down his journal, considering the topic. “Maybe to protect himself… if he has information that someone powerful might not want him to have, he might be worried about retaliation. Even if not to himself, to his family…” Izuku has never even considered the possibility that a villain might go after their loved ones. Maybe having an alias really is a good idea…
“Think about it!” Uraraka exclaims, her hood almost falling off with her enthusiasm. “Instead of Iida Tenya-kun, you could be Tenya the Great! or Tenya the Almighty!”
Izuku laughs, briefly. Tenya the… Almighty… all… mighty…
Something important.
He frowns, staring at the fire until the flames stop moving.
“—Deku-kun?”
Izuku starts, tearing his gaze away to meet Uraraka’s. “Huh?”
“What would your name be?”
He glances back at the fire, tongues licking the air, casting uneven light on their bodies and belongings.
Deku-kun. He’s forgotten where the name came from, which strikes him as odd, because he’s also certain it’s important. Important… all might…
The world spins when he thinks about it. He shakes his head.
“Deku,” he says, certain. “I think… it would be Deku.”
“Deku.”
Izuku opens his eyes to a room, twenty small desks and one large, grey walls and an impractically high ceiling that somehow feels like home.
He slowly gets to his feet, glancing around at the unusually empty space.
“Um,” he begins, his eyes lingering on the chair immediately in front of him.
Kacchan. Kacchan sits in front of him.
“Hurry up!”
Izuku looks up to find Kacchan, feet planted twenty feet away on the damp concrete of an underground tunnel, glaring over his shoulder, a black eye mask making his crimson eyes almost appear to burn.
“Huh?”
“The fuck are you waiting for, next year?!” Kacchan hisses.
Izuku hesitates, cautiously stepping forward, reaching out with a white-gloved hand. “W-wait - Kacchan, we should gather more information first, it could be a trap—”
“Yeah, it will be if we stand here like morons while he sets one!”
“We don’t even know how his Quirk works!” Izuku says, only remembering to keep his voice down half way through the sentence, ducking his head and glancing around cautiously. “He could—”
“If we hit ‘em before the shitstain has a chance to use it, it won’t matter!” Kacchan snaps.
“Shhh!”
Izuku glances behind himself to find Uraraka, a finger over her lips, and in the ensuing silence, they hear it.
Footsteps, from the chamber beyond.
“Shit—”
“He’s getting away!” Kirishima yells, and Kacchan’s already leaping, his gauntlets disappearing below the rim of the tunnel. Iida is not far behind, the roar of his engines echoing across the cold walls as he dashes ahead.
By the time Izuku’s armored soles hit the concrete below, the villain is already disappearing into a dark tunnel, his black leather coat like a shadow cloaking his retreat—
A sheet of ice surges along the ground to capture the figure’s right foot as it hits the floor - Todoroki-kun - and he glances back at his ally with an appreciative grin before turning back to the captured villain.
“It’s over,” he says, fixing the man with his most authoritative stare.
The villain, though, simply turns, lime-green eyes spiraling into black, bleeding into his skin, the walls, the cold, humid air and his vision itself, and his head spins as the world tilts around him—
Sunlight beats down on his face, and Izuku finally sets eyes on their destination as the town comes into view over the next hill—
“Don’t worry,” he says, fixing the worried villager - fifty-two, female, one hundred and fifty eight centimeters, dark brown - with a reassuring look, resolve burning in his eyes—
Stegocentipede—
He swings his sword at the exposed underbelly—
Eraserhead— Kacchan— Endeavor— Todoroki— the villain—
Izuku opens his eyes.