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Katsuki always stops in for coffee right when the shop opens, in the early hours of the morning when it's just barely light out.
He yawns as he pushes open the door, and the bell above the frame jingles a comfortable welcome. The shop is tiny. There's no one else inside yet, except for himself and the opening shift barista. The man looks up as he enters, and Katsuki feels himself wake right up, even before the scent of roasting beans hits him.
"Morning," comes the familiar murmured greeting, from the sleepy-eyed man with the unusual hair—half red, half white. His bangs hang in his face, moderately covering the dark scar over his left eye. Katsuki has had the idle thought before that he'd like to run his fingers through that hair. "The usual?"
"Yeah," he says, voice still scratchy with the remnants of sleep. "Extra shot of espresso, this time…" He takes a seat at the counter and leans in, squinting at the barista's name tag, even though he already knows what it says. "Shouto."
The corner of Shouto's mouth tilts upward. "You know my name," he says.
Katsuki waves a hand. "Don't flatter yourself."
"How tragic for such a young pro hero to be so forgetful," Shouto sighs, setting about steaming the milk. His own brand of dry wit often causes Katsuki's teasing to backfire.
"Well… your face, I remember," Katsuki amends.
"You come in here at least once a week," Shouto points out. "If you forgot that, too, I'd be really worried."
"Harder to forget what you look like," Katsuki says, and Shouto looks up at him, and blinks. Katsuki smirks. "Your hair's so dumb, how could I?"
Shouto shakes his head, but Katsuki catches him smiling.
This is exactly what Katsuki needs right now. This familiar routine with the cute barista who puts up with his half-assed flirting because he's paid to, probably. Katsuki would never make a move, even if he thought Shouto was actually interested. He's got far more important things to worry about than trying to find a boyfriend—a "soulmate," people still call it.
The term hasn't fallen out of use, even long after bloom had all but disappeared from society. True soulmates are harder to find nowadays than the quirkless; it's been ages since the last reported occurrence, two people able to paint light over each other's skin. There's not much cause to ever think about it, which is more of a relief to Katsuki than anything else. The last thing he wants is to be tied down.
He likes this coffee shop because Shouto never asks questions. He doesn't try to pry into Katsuki's life, which is already well-publicized enough as it is. Katsuki likes the fame, likes the attention, thrives off the constant reminders that he's one of the best. But he hates answering questions even when he's scheduled for interviews in advance.
Today is a day he doesn't want questions. There's none he could answer, anyway.
"Latte with a double shot of espresso for Bakugou… hm, is it Kagami? Katsumi..." Shouto sets the coffee down and then props his elbow on the counter, cheek resting on his palm as he watches Katsuki take a sip and grimace.
"You burned the milk," he says.
Everyone in Japan knows his name, but he still feels his breath catch slightly when Shouto says, "Ah, right, it's Katsuki, isn't it?"
Shouto doesn't quite smile, he rarely does, but somehow the teasing still reaches his eyes. He has eyes like no other, two separate colors of cloudy and clear skies, both distinct enough to stop Katsuki in his tracks. They make him feel like he's forgotten his own damn name every time.
He finishes the rest of his coffee leisurely, while Shouto putters around behind the counter doing whatever it is he does that isn't learning how to make a better latte. Katsuki has been coming here for months and Shouto is always there, and his coffee has always been terrible.
And then Shouto asks out of the blue, "Is everything alright?"
It almost startles Katsuki into honesty. "Fine, I'm just—" He shakes his head. "Got work on the brain."
Shouto looks at him like he sees right through that excuse. "You do seem… distracted, today."
Katsuki is keyed up more than usual. The mission he's slated to run that night is far from the average patrol. But it's what he was built for, what he's trained to do. His head is already entering the zone, his body is on edge in preparation.
Still—he wouldn't expect Shouto to be able to tell.
"Mind your own business," he says, without much bite. He's still too surprised.
Shouto shrugs. "I don't need the story," he says. "I'm just wondering whether you'll be careful or not."
"I'm always careful."
"You think I don't watch the news?" Shouto fires back. His eyes are sharp, but then he blinks, shrugs; like he's taking a mental step back. "Just don't stay distracted."
Katsuki glares at Shouto. "I take calculated risks. Chill out, I'll stop in tomorrow so you can see I'm in one piece." As soon as he says it, he regrets it. Shouto is just acting concerned out of courtesy, and Katsuki doesn't have to care. He drains the last of his drink and stands. "Thanks for the crappy coffee."
"If it's so crappy, why do you always come back?" Shouto asks.
"Can't let you get too lonely," Katsuki says magnanimously as he heads for the door. "It's a hero's job to help those in need."
"You're unbearable," Shouto calls after him.
"Then why do you always look so happy to see me?" Katsuki asks. He doesn't wait for an answer, doesn't look back as the door shuts behind him.
*
The stronghold of the infamous villain Hellfire is located near the waterfront of Dagoba Municipal Beach Park. Finding the location took years of planning and espionage; Katsuki was brought onto the team on a need to know basis several weeks back—only recently was he filled in on all the details. Tonight, he absolutely will need to know.
From the outside the hideout looks like a regular empty warehouse, but lying below the earth is a sprawling underground complex, hollowed out nearly a mile deep. It's Hellfire's main base of operations, and tonight the man himself will be there. The objective of the mission is to capture him.
The pro heroes don't knock politely. Once the location is secured, they bust straight down.
They're deep inside the facility when everything goes to shit. As cautious as they've been it's not quite enough, because what makes Hellfire so dangerous is his past. The man used to be a former pro hero, one of the best—and he knows how they work all too well.
The traps spring all at once. All chatter over Katsuki's earpiece cuts out as explosions as loud as his own rock the world around him, ringing in his ears. Gouts of flame sweep the hallway on all sides, and he hears someone scream. As he turns towards the sound, the floor opens up beneath him and swallows him.
He falls into the belly of the beast. The abyss isn't natural—it must be the cause of someone's quirk, which makes sense, given the size and intricacy of the labyrinth. Katsuki takes great pleasure in obliterating large swaths of it as he plummets, using his explosions to slow his descent.
He lands cat-like, ready to spring again at a moment's notice. The hallway he's landed in is dark, thick pipes lining the walls and ceiling, some out of the way maintenance location. He's about to chalk it up to deserted when sudden movement snatches his attention, and he spins.
Spikes of ice come surging on like a wave, swallowing up the floor as they rush down the corridor towards him, jutting from the walls at a dizzying pace. He doesn't think twice, raising both hands to answer in kind, a blast of heat and fire radiating from his palms to smash it back.
Katsuki rockets forward, explosions spitting from his palms as he closes the gap in seconds, sharp reflexes allowing him to twist and dodge through the ice field. He sees the dark figure at the end of the hallway for a split second before a wall of ice is thrown up to block his approach completely.
Screw that. He focuses all of his strength into a concentrated Howitzer, the narrowed point of the blast drilling a hole straight through the ice.
He knows immediately by the quirk who he must be facing: Hellfire's top secret, most dangerous creation.
His son, the villain Cryoburn.
Not much is known about him; he was born after his father's turn to villainy, and no one has ever seen his face beneath the mask he always wears. Only two things about him are common knowledge: he has never killed in combat, and his ice quirk is powerful beyond compare.
Katsuki has been itching to fight him since the first time he ever heard the alias "Cryoburn." He can't afford to let him escape.
The ice wall shatters spectacularly as he pierces through, launching himself forward. With a battle roar he collides with the masked figure clad in black. At close range, it's clear instantly that Katsuki is the superior fighter. Whether it's shock or inexperience, Cryoburn hardly puts up a fight as Katsuki slams him onto his back on the floor. He hears the pained exhalation of breath from the man as he pins the villain's arms above his head with one hand, and uses his other to grip around the villain's throat.
"Lights out, asshole," he growls. He doesn't want to kill the man, but it doesn't seem like he'll come quietly, and if they can capture him this operation may not have been for nothing.
Cryoburn gasps, struggling, thrashing underneath him, but Katsuki is stronger. Then he feels a flash of something hot, burning his palm, and he flinches reflexively. What the hell?
The villain wrenches his arm free of his grasp and digs his fingers into the meat of Katsuki's shoulder, trying to push him off. His touch is much hotter than Katsuki would have expected, nearly scalding, and he grits his teeth against it. Is the cold just that intense? How is Cryoburn doing that?
"St-stop… Kat… su…"
"Shut up!" Katsuki shouts. "You want pity? Why should I give it to you?"
And then, the most astonishing thing to happen yet: flames start to lick at the left side of the man's mask. They grow brighter, hotter, eating away the material, simply melting it away until half the mask is burned open, and Katsuki can glimpse Cryoburn's face.
His breath catches in his chest. He stares, paralyzed, and the strength leaves his hands as the man draws in much needed air. It's Katsuki who now feels like he's the one being slowly strangled.
The skin beneath the mask is red and raised, one electric blue eye surrounded by scar tissue staring up at him. It's wide with something that isn't fear, but lives alongside it. Katsuki has never seen that expression on this face before, but even with only half of it before him, he'd know it. Hadn't he himself said it was hard to forget?
"Shouto?" he mumbles.
Shouto's eye flicks to where his fingers dig into Katsuki's shoulder, and Katsuki follows his gaze to see the second impossible thing.
There are marks on his shoulder, where Shouto's fingers have scrabbled over his skin. Messy, indistinct—not burns or bruises, but a saturated, bright blue. It doesn't fade, even as he stares at it, but grows more vivid by the second.
The marks trace the places Shouto has touched him, like he dipped his fingers in luminescent paint beforehand. The color blue literally blooms over Katsuki's skin.
Katsuki pulls one of his gloves off with his teeth. His hands are shaking almost too much to trust them, but he reaches out to remove Shouto's mask entirely.
There can be no mistaking the disheveled red and white fall of hair that comes free from the mask. Both eyes blink up at Katsuki now. He can see the urge to run in them, and knows he can't allow it. But that conviction is too tangled up in this terrible dream—and instead of reaching out to restrain him again, he finds himself brushing Shouto's bangs aside like he's always wanted, his fingers straying just beneath the edge of Shouto's scar.
Shouto's breath hitches, and it happens.
A line of red follows in the wake of Katsuki's fingers, almost like blood. But Katsuki has seen a lot of blood in his line of work. This is too bright. Too beautiful.
It's bloom. The mark of a soulmate, the indicator of a soul bond. People thought bloom had died out years ago—but here's the proof, of a pair of hearts tied together.
"You," Katsuki chokes out.
Shouto reaches up, hands just as unsure as Katsuki's, to press his palms to Katsuki's cheeks. Katsuki sees light flare there, like he's being illuminated from beneath his skin.
"Me," Shouto says. "I'm sorry."
His words jolt something free in Katsuki—bring back the rage.
"Get away from me!"
Katsuki has Shouto pinned below him, but he pushes away as roughly as if Shouto were holding him down. Explosions spark in his bare hand.
"We have to—" Shouto winces as he sits up. The red streak under his eye hasn't faded. "You need to get out of here."
"You sold us out!" Katsuki yells. "You betrayed—" His voice cracks and he stops. When had he started assuming Shouto was on his side? When had he started to trust him enough for this to hurt?
"My father knew about the raid," Shouto says. "If anyone finds you here, they'll kill you, that's why—"
"Let them try," Katsuki snarls. "You couldn't do it."
"I don't want to," Shouto says urgently. "I didn't even realize you'd be here until this morning!"
"What difference does it make? Whether you kill me or someone else—"
"Because I've known this whole time you were my soulmate!" Shouto finally shouts.
This freezes Katsuki in his tracks in mind and body effectively enough that Shouto is able to grab his arm, dragging him through the hallway.
"Where are you taking me?" Katsuki asks numbly.
"Out," Shouto says.
They wind through the dark tunnels like sewage rats, avoiding elevators and automated doors, climbing shadowy disused stairwells. It almost comes as a shock when Shouto shoves open a decrepit door and a gust of salted air hits Katsuki in the face. Katsuki can't tell where they are, but it's not near the warehouse. Shouto has led him back outside.
"What about the others?" Katsuki asks. His earpiece is still dead.
Shouto's eyes rove over his face. Katsuki can feel his stare, feel himself being committed to memory. Like Shouto is sure this is the last chance he'll have. "I don't know."
The unspoken words I don't care sit heavy between them. It doesn't matter to Shouto what happens to the rest. Katsuki should tell him to surrender—should demand Shouto turn himself in. He should bring him in by force.
If he does that, he doesn't know what will happen to Shouto.
"If I ever see you again," Katsuki tells him, "I'll kill you."
He leaves Shouto there in the doorway, quirk kicking up sparks from his palms as he runs, putting as much distance as he can between himself and fate.
*
They don't capture Hellfire that night. By the time Katsuki makes it back to the rendezvous point, they're already regrouping to retreat. He grits his teeth, feeling like a traitor on multiple fronts when he says he has nothing to report.
The biggest mission of his career so far and he's got nothing to show for it. Damn that half and half bastard.
Katsuki can't stop thinking about him.
He doesn't go back to the coffee shop the next morning. Or the next day, or the next week. It still feels too impossible to process. Shouto, who knows Katsuki's drink order and the days he comes in to the cafe and senses his nerves even when he's trying to stay calm—Shouto is a villain? And not just a villain, but Katsuki's soulmate.
The last known instance of a soul bond forming had been two ordinary people in India, decades ago, before Katsuki was born. Even long before that happened, people had just about given up on soul bonds for good, adopting the new practice of writing their own love story instead of waiting for it to be spelled out for them.
If it was easier to ignore the evidence, Katsuki would put it out of his mind. But he'd seen the marks himself, like bruises where Shouto grabbed him, like blood where he'd touched Shouto. He sees those same colors every night for weeks on end when he tries to get to sleep. They glow blue and grey, but it's not bloom. It's Shouto's eyes, and the way they light up, when Katsuki pretends to forget his name. Because he's too hopeless to admit he comes back, again and again, to see if he can make Shouto almost-smile.
How the hell had Shouto known that they were soulmates?
Nearly three months pass after the raid before Katsuki goes to get a cup of coffee.
As usual—it's barely light out, and the bell above the door tinkles, and the place is empty; save for himself and one other person.
If Shouto was smart, he would have run. He should have gone underground, disappeared, become even more of a phantom than he's always been, the whisper of Hellfire's successor. Katsuki takes his usual seat at the counter and thinks that Shouto must have a death wish, and maybe that's the reason they're soulmates; because Katsuki clearly has no sense of self preservation himself.
"The usual today?" he gets asked, and it's the same voice he keeps hearing saying his name when the thoughts in his head get too quiet.
"Yeah," Katsuki grunts, and Shouto's eyes light up the same way he sees in his dreams.
The scene feels so familiar that it's the only thing keeping Katsuki from blowing holes in all the walls, or through Shouto himself. But when Shouto hands him his coffee, he lets his fingers brush the back of Katsuki's. It leaves behind a streak of bright blue. Katsuki stares at it, transfixed.
"That's how I knew," Shouto says. "It was just a couple days after the first time you came in. You touched my hand when you paid for your drink. You didn't notice, but…"
But Shouto had. And he's been sitting on that knowledge for months and months, never once saying anything to Katsuki about it. Of course he hadn't—their red string of fate isn't just tangled, it's nearly frayed through, hanging only by a thread.
"You know I have to kill you now, right?" Katsuki asks. He directs the question at his coffee, because he doesn't trust himself to look at Shouto.
"You can try," Shouto says, sounding very unconcerned. "I won't just let you, you know."
"You almost did," Katsuki says, a sneer working its way into his tone.
"And then you didn't," Shouto reminds him. Katsuki is always amazed at how simultaneously unassuming yet smug he manages to sound.
He sighs loudly. "Why are you here?"
"I never stopped coming," Shouto says. "I know when you always come in, so—"
"I mean, at all," Katsuki clarifies. "You're Cryoburn. You're a villain, not—not just some normal guy who needs a day job!"
"No." Shouto folds his hands together on the counter, shoulders hunched as he contemplates his next words. He seems smaller that way. "I want to be, though."
"Oh, boo-hoo," Katsuki scoffs. "He wants to be a real boy."
"I want a lot of things I don't deserve," Shouto murmurs. "Why do you think I do this? I don't want to be Cryoburn, I want—" He swallows and looks up at Katsuki. "I want you. I don't think I've ever not wanted you."
Katsuki finds it unbearably hard to breathe again. "Nothing's changed," he says.
He had come up with a lot of reasons that a relationship with Shouto would never work. He was a pro; he had more important things to focus on; Shouto wasn't even interested. Anything to distract himself from the fact that he was falling for Shouto a bit more every time he saw him.
"Everything's changed," Shouto says. "You know now."
It's true. For all the excuses Katsuki had invented for himself not to say anything, Shouto had only ever had two truths: they were soulmates, and they were on opposite sides of a war. Now Katsuki had walked into that reality. It all came down to a choice.
Choose Shouto, or condemn him.
"You could mess everything up for me," Katsuki says. He folds his hands around the mug Shouto gave him; it's warm, would probably be too hot against a normal person's palms. Katsuki can faintly smell the burned milk beneath the caffeine. "You could use me for leverage."
A high profile hero with a soulmate would be a field day for the media; but a villain soulmate makes the story a disaster. At best, Katsuki would be unable to escape a tragic public image; at worst, people might suspect him of villainy, too.
But Shouto shakes his head. "Hellfire hasn't kept me hidden all these years for me to come out as some hero's harlot. Would be nice to throw it in his face, but I don't want this to get out, either."
"Are you offering to play double agent?" Katsuki asks.
Shouto snorts. "No. I'm offering to be your secret evil boyfriend."
"That seems like a shitty deal."
"Sure does," Shouto agrees with a shrug. "I know I'm asking for a lot. But I want to try and see where it goes. Not just… being together."
"Oh?" Katsuki raises an eyebrow.
"I don't like where my life is headed now," Shouto explains. "I'm interested to see where you'll lead me."
Katsuki wants to tell him to go screw himself, to go die and save them all the trouble if he's having so many second thoughts about being a villain. He needs to shut this down now. He barely knows Shouto outside of these four walls, and what he does know of him through police reports and villain statistics isn't good.
So why does he feel like he understands him so well?
Katsuki rubs the bridge of his nose. "It's not like we can go out on dates. Press will be all over me, and by extension, you."
"You don't really seem like a dinner and a movie kind of guy," Shouto says. "Neither am I, so that works out well."
Exasperated at how true this is, Katsuki lets his hand drop to the table. And Shouto just… touches him. He doesn't hesitate, doesn't even seem to think about it. Cool fingers press to Katsuki's skin, drawing absent minded grey shapes that shine like starlight. Katsuki doesn't pull away, because it doesn't feel like he should.
In a lot of ways, Katsuki is used to having it all—sharp mind, superior quirk, strong will. He's never let any of those things go to waste.
And suddenly, here's Shouto.
Fate says they belong together; everything else says there's not a snowball's chance in hell they won't crash and burn. But Katsuki has never said no to a challenge before.
With his free hand, the one not currently being used as a coloring book, Katsuki takes a sip of his drink. He pulls a face.
"You better at least learn how to make decent coffee," he says.
Shouto draws a very deliberate smiley face on his palm. "We both know you don't like me for my coffee brewing skills."
And damn him—he's absolutely right.