Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wakes to bright lights and amazed murmurs. Within him is the fervent urge to wail, and though he tries to stifle it, it rips out of his lungs with ferocity. Relief fills him immediately in the form of oxygen, and he now realizes he needed to breathe. His cries quiet down until he is sniffling, and he focuses on the warmth engulfing him to keep himself calm.

Garbled noises fill his ears, and he burrows his head further into the soft warmth, relaxing when a hand comes up to pat his head. The steady thumping of something alive lulls him, but he forces himself to stay awake. He needs to clear his head if he wants to know what happening. He’s definitely in the hospital from what he’s discerned so far, and now he can make out the words of medics talking of heart rate and morphine, and he is probably not entirely healed as he still feels very weak, and–

Why does his pillow have a heartbeat?

He opens his eyes despite the blinding brightness of the room, to several gasps. Mutters of “two different colours”, and “God’s child”  touch his ears. One voice cuts through all the others.

“Is it born?”

Silence descends in one fell swoop. He can make out the blurry hulking figure of a man. He feels the warm body around him tense, and he frowns in discomfort.

“It’s a boy, Your Majesty.” A brave nurse pipes up from his left. “He is quite healthy, and right on time. He appears to be a very strong child.”

The words confuse him. He’s always been a boy, it’s not news. He can feel the eyes of the man on him, and he shivers. There is something familiar about this heavy presence, and not welcome.

“That remains to be seen.” Comes the booming voice at last, and he feels rather than sees the man leave the room. The arms around him relax, so he does too.

The murmurs start up again, congratulating his warmth for a healthy birth and asking about names. He feels soft fingers brush his cheek, and he leans into them. Then, he hears the most gentle voice he’s ever heard.

“Hello, my little Shouto.”

Chapter Text

He remembers the burning. He remembers seeing nothing but fire that burnt blue instead of red and the scent of decay’s ash. He remembers a searing pain like nothing he’d felt before, and the horror of watching his body disintegrate before his eyes. He remembers the girl’s wails, vivid amethyst eyes turning mud brown, as the illusion falls apart around them.

No! I didn’t know! I didn’t mean t- I’m so sorry, Shouto-san!

“Shou-chan!”

A giggle echoes in his ears as he awakens, and Shouto blearily turns his head toward the sound. He feels a finger poke his cheek, and he blinks in confusion. Wide grey eyes stare into his own mismatched ones.

“Natsu.” Fuyumi scolds, pulling the four-year-old out of his face, and though Shouto is glad he doesn’t have to look up his older brother’s nose, he shivers without the proximity of another body. Whether it’s from the cold or the remnants of his nightmare, he doesn’t know.

Strike that. Shouto twitches in shock at the feeling of frost creeping up his right arm. Immediately he pulls his power back in with practiced ease. No one notices his lapse of control, but Fuyumi does pull the blanket tighter around him. When Natsuo attempts to poke his cheeks again, she blocks him, gently pushing their brother into a stool by his cradle instead; a mother hen, even at the tender age of eight.

He wriggles when an uncomfortable grumble shakes his stomach. He helplessly looks toward Fuyumi in hopes that she would understand this too, but she merely coos and kisses him on the forehead. Natsuo pulls at her shirt, asking why she was allowed to touch the baby but not him. Shouto glances at the door in hopes of some source of salvation, and lo and behold, his mother appears with a knowing smile.

“Are you hungry, my dear Shouto?”

She pulls down her shirt and brings him closer, and the infant doesn’t hesitate to latch on. For some reason, it doesn’t feel particularly embarrassing. All he cares for is that the milk is sweet. He closes his eyes in bliss.

Natsuo prods his cheek again, and Fuyumi’s protests quiet with a shh from their mother. “He looks happy. Does it taste that good?”

“You were always eating when you were this small.” Rei chuckles at the frown on her second son’s face.

“You still do.” Fuyumi snickers.

“D-Do not! Besides, all he does is eat and sleep.”

Indeed. Shouto thinks, remembering how he’d once thought it would be nice to be a baby, and sleepily said as much to Bakugou back when they’d had to wake up early for their supplementary lessons.

You’re so fucking weird. Bakugou had scowled.

Shouto momentarily stops sucking, a pang of nostalgia hitting him like punch to the gut. He forces down the longing, as he has numerous times already.

The past few days (?) had been nothing if not disorienting; a fuzzy hodge podge of sleeping and eating. In his precious few moments of clear consciousness, he’d wondered if his odd behaviour was the result of de-aging 16 years, as is what seemed had happened to him. Later he heard his mother mention that all infants were like this.

Fortunately, Shouto’s able to keep his senses in check now – specifically, ever since this morning. He wonders if someone, perhaps his mother, had done something, since a glowing flash of purple had overtaken his vision just before he’d closed his eyes last night.

Whatever happened, Shouto is just glad he can observe his surroundings with some form of alertness, and even move his body, albeit sloppily.

And observe his surroundings he does. Shouto can’t see much of the room except for the ceiling and some of the walls, but from what he’s gathered, it’s big. And fancy. Glowing orbs of light strung together with shimmering gold form the shape of flower. The ceiling itself is streaked with white and blue and probably a few other colours, painting the illusion that they were under a wide-open sky. Shouto wonders why they would paint that when they could just go outside and look up.

In any case, the entire set-up reeks of some medieval European culture, from the mannerisms to the clothing. He would’ve thought it a fantasy-like dream had it not been lasting so damn long.

Having been raised in a traditional Japanese home and never really going abroad, it’s like a culture shock of odd proportions. He feels wildly out of place, but the place itself does not feel unfamiliar; not when his family seems to integrate into it so well.

Natsuo wears what looks like a very fancy vest for a small child, but he still speaks loudly and brashly, just with more childishness and less resentment. Fuyumi is just as gentle and careful, but her simple clothing has been replaced by a sparkling gown, her meek presence replaced with something more regal that she usually rarely showed.

His mother is soft and glowing, in a way he doesn’t ever remember her being. Age has not yet set in, and her hair looks more like fresh snow than the stark colour of bones. He can’t really see her dress, but he can feel the refreshing touch of silk.

It’s dreamlike, but Shouto refuses to let himself get carried away. He’s used to stopping himself from falling into tempting what-ifs.

The most likely conclusion is that he is under some sort of illusion quirk, considering his memories of what had happened right before he’d collapsed are foggy. Perhaps a villain attack? However, he’s sure he was with people he trusted, and no one he knew had any sort of illusion quirk. The closest he can guess is Midnight-sensei’s quirk, but he’d never heard of such odd dreaming as a side effect before. Besides, he doesn’t think any of the teachers were there anyway.

Then, an accidental quirk usage, from a civilian with an illusion quirk? That sounds the likeliest, but even if it was a quirk, it may be something more along the lines of being transported to an odd world, rather than anything an illusionist could come up with. There are a few key points to back this up.

For one, a civilian would not have such detailed information about his family.

And two, even if they did…

“Hello Mother. Hey Fuyumi, Natsuo.”

Calloused fingers pinch his cheeks, pulling him off his mother’s breast with a pop. Shouto glares upwards at the face casting a shadow over him. He doesn’t particularly like to be interrupted in the middle of eating like this.

“Heya Shouto.” Touya grins. “Ha ha, what’s with that face!”

Todoroki Touya is lanky at twelve, soon to have his growth spurt. His spiky albino hair matches their mother’s, but the piercing turquoise eyes are from their father. Most notably, he is alive.

Shouto has limited memories of his oldest brother, since he died a little before Shouto got his burn scar. There are faint memories of hearing his laugh, watching him play with the rest of his siblings, but they feel like forgotten clips from a forgotten film he might or might not have seen.

So, this boy who kisses his mother’s cheek, who pats his sister’s head and who lets his brother cling to him, is a ghost to Shouto. His laidback demeanor feels alien in a family such as theirs, but–

There’s a tense set to his shoulders, and he stands slightly turned to keep the door in sight.

A child who can’t feel safe in his own home.

At that is why he’s certain now that he’s been transported somewhere, because there’s no way any villain or civilian would know more than Shouto about the private affairs of his family, about his brother, about Endeavor.

So then, what kind of otherworldly quirk was this, to transfer Shouto’s consciousness back in time? Into an unfamiliar place he recognizes, full of unfamiliar people he knows.

“His hair has thickened a bunch, huh… it looks weird.” Touya comments, petting the soft strands on Shouto’s head. His fingers are just as warm and gentle as their mother’s, and Shouto relaxes immediately.

“Ah, his face is back to normal. Anyway, I thought Fuyumi had unique hair, but this half and half split is something else.”

No one responds.

There’s a double meaning behind this statement, with the way his words are met with stifling silence. It’s only shattered when two loud knocks sound from the door.

A pause, then their mother straightens up, pulling down her dress. Shouto experiences a moment of disorientation as he’s lifted to rest against her shoulder.

“Come in.”

A man dressed in plainer clothes, a servant perhaps, peeks in. “Excuse me, Your Highnesses.”

Touya steps away from their mother. Natsuo abruptly draws his hands to his side, almost falling over, and Fuyumi grabs his shoulders to steady him.

Rei’s face is impassive as she gestures for the young man to continue. He bows and does so.

“His Majesty would like to kindly remind the queen that she needn’t overwork herself and neglect her health in favour of taking care of the third prince, and that there are plenty of suitable wet nurses to do so in her stea–“

“Kindly tell His Majesty that my mother is completely capable of caring for my baby brother, and that if he’s worried about the queen, he should do what’s best for her and fuck off.”

The retort sounds like a slap in the silent room, but Shouto is the one left reeling. In an instant Touya had gone from their mother’s son to their father’s, and Shouto doesn’t want to see that familiar expression on Touya’s face. Glaring eyes and a cold expression – he looked like their father. He looked like how Shouto used to, not so long ago.

The servant swallows thickly, eyes flickering to the ground. Only Touya dares to talk so crudely. Shouto briefly wonders if that’s how he ended up in his current state back in the real world, but that’s a dangerous thought he will not entertain at the moment.

The servant shifts, but he’s braver than he shows and goes on despite Touya’s visible and growing irritation . “U-Um, His Majesty the king also requests that Prince Touya return to his lessons, then meet him in the training grounds at noon to practice weaponry and elemental comba–”

Urp!

Shouto feels like shrinking as all eyes swivel towards him. Was that… him? He’d been feeling an odd sensation for a while now because his mother kept patting his back, but… did babies burp?

This is somewhat embarrassing.

Touya snorts, then coughs, then begins cackling. Shouto is slightly frightened.

“Yeah, I got it, you’re dismissed or whatever.” The boy sighs, and Shouto reminds himself that Touya is technically younger than him. The servant scurries away, having no such reservations.

“’I can’t even visit my siblings for a second’, is what I was thinking.” Touya glances at Shouto, then smiles. “But if you say it’s fine then I guess I should hurry up and get it over with.”

Shouto watches as Touya waves and strolls out the room, and then as Natsuo and Fuyumi’s chatter picks up.

That… Could burping have a double meaning as well? Shouto ponders, absolutely befuddled.

Enji Todoroki is a king. Rei Todoroki was a princess from the north whom he took as his queen. Naturally, that would make Shouto a prince.

“Please do not eat the curtains, Young Prince!” A maid cries, pulling Shouto away from the fluffy pale pink sheets. Shouto lets himself get carried, because hopefully they’ll go to the playroom, where he could find something firmer to put in his mouth.

The floor is a blur from how high up he is, and though it feels like he’s only been in this small form for a few days, he wonders if he’ll remember how to walk when he gets back.

In any case, babies are very impressive. He is already sitting up, and it finally feels like he has some semblance of control over his limbs. The only setback is the horrible itching in his gums, which may be a side effect of advancing so quickly. The only way to somewhat ease the ache is by chewing on things, not that any of the maids understood that.

Do babies grow so much in so little time? His mother must’ve used that motherly ability again, since last night he’d seen that flash of purple. Shouto wishes he knew more about the development of babies, because then he would have some idea of when he could have complete control over his motor skills again. In the meantime…

 The baby allows himself to be set down on the rug, in the middle of numerous scattered toys. Training is a must in order to regain movement, so he’ll begin by using the toy castle model as support. Once he has figured out how to stand, walking would come easy. Movement is important since it would allow him to gather information. Since he apparently no longer required his mother to feed, he wasn’t near her all the time, and so he could no longer depend on her light chatter with others to provide him with intel.

Shouto grabs the toy castle and heaves himself up. To his surprise, he gets it first try, as if his muscles remembered the movement. Perhaps more than his conscious had remained in this body.

He allows himself a moment to focus. He shuffles a foot forward, hanging onto his support castle. His balance feels off, and he’s sure that if he leans too much to either side he’ll fall.

Why is walking harder? He knows what to do, but gravity seems set on disobeying him. Maybe the reason his balance is off is because he’s leaning on the toy. He doesn’t really want to try without a support yet, but training is training, and he cannot take the easy route if he wants to make quick progress.

Still, he’s hesitant when he pushes the model aside. Stretching his arms out and bending his knees slightly helps a little, and suddenly Shouto feels very free.

I’m standing by myself. He can’t help the giggle that escapes his throat.

The clatter of toys hitting the ground is muffled by the thick, comfy carpet. Shouto turns carefully to see the maid stifling a gasp, the toys she was tidying in a fallen pile.

“W-What?! How is he- isn’t it-” A light seems to go off above her head. “G-God’s child! He really is a blessed one!”

The surprise is more off-putting than gratifying. He doesn’t particularly like the sound of “God’s child” either. He’s sure he’s heard it before, but that isn’t important right now.

Should he fake incapability, or proceed with training? The former is probably better if he wants to remain as unassuming as before, but the thought of quitting after he’d gotten so far is disheartening. Besides, she’d already seen him stand, it isn’t like he can hide it anymore. Plus, he’d never get any training done if he was going to stop every time someone happened to see.

So Shouto nods at the maid, allowing her to witness his moment of glory. He straightens up and allows muscle memory to take over as the maid watches on, entranced. He swings his foot forward.

For some reason, it is his head that hits the ground.

Ow. Shouto thinks, as the maid screeches behind him.

Luckily, he’d more tumbled forward than fallen, but the maid is still panicking as she lifts him up off his back. His head hurts, but he stifles the urge to cry because he’s had worse, and because he is, in fact, not a real baby.

“I’m so sorry Young Prince! Even if you are a genius, you are still a baby!” The maid wails, examining his head. Shouto feels tendrils of guilt seep into his stomach. This incident is entirely his responsibility. Perhaps he should pay more mind to his environment before attempting anything.

“What’s going on?”

Touya strides into the room without preamble, and the maid rushes to bow, hugging Shouto tightly.

“F-First Prince, the Young Prince, he… he stood up!”

Touya blinks. “I suppose you were helping him practice?”

“No, Your Highness, by himself! He almost walked too, I- I was so amazed I could only watch and–!”

Touya grabs Shouto from the maid, looking him over. “What the heck, he’s only half a year old… Natsuo didn’t stand until he was nine months, and that was with support.”

He looks at Shouto with awe, but also barely concealed worry. And Shouto pushes aside the questions about his development under the realization that he’s made a very big mistake. God’s child is the absolute last thing he should be identified as if this world is anything like the real one.

“You… You said he walked?” Touya asks, his thumb brushing a line over Shouto’s bi-coloured eyes.

“N-No, he fell, Your Highness. I greatly apologize, it was my lack of ability. I am entirely to blame.”

Before Touya can respond, a voice calls out from the hallway.

“First Prince?! Where are you? Your history lesson should have started ten minutes ago–”

Touya clicks his tongue and hands Shouto back to the maid. “He doesn’t seem hurt. He must have a big head like Natsuo.”

He makes to leave but the maid speaks up again.

“A-Ah, First Prince…”

Touya pauses at the door, cocking his head questioningly.

“Will you… That is, will His Majesty be informed of thi–”

“NO!”

Shouto doesn’t startle but the maid does, and he clings on as he’s jostled roughly. Touya lets out a breath and starts again.

“No, there is no need to inform… Father. Babies go through incredible development. I’m sure Shouto isn’t the only one who’s tried moving around early.”

And with that, his oldest brother sweeps out the door.

Touya... Touya had covered it up this time, but there is no guarantee that next time it wouldn’t get back to their father. And if that happened… well for one, Shouto wouldn’t have the freedom he does right now to figure out how to cancel this quirk.

The maid is still standing in silence, so Shouto taps her cheek to power her back on. She flinches.

“Ah, Young Prince… I really do think you are God’s child, though.” She bounces him in her arms, but Shouto doesn’t laugh. “Afterall, you have begun to walk before you have even learned to crawl.”

That night Shouto does not immediately fall asleep in his cradle. He watches the glowing gems dangling above his crib spin in a sort of hypnotising dance, their colours shifting ever so slightly from blue to purple to pink. He wonders if this is what it would look like if stars danced.

Half a year… Touya had said Shouto is half a year old, meaning around six months. He is sure that day in the hospital-like place, fuzzy as it was, is the day he was born in this world. But there is no way six months had passed; it had definitely only been a few days.

In hindsight however, it is quite obvious there is no way a baby could develop as fast as he is. Then, is his memory choppy? He’s heard before of infant amnesia, which is why no one tends to remember their infant years but…

The gems glitter, twisting slowly as if creeping up on the moonlight. The deep azure once again lightens into a cosmic purple.

The purple flashes.

They could not be chalked up to motherly abilities then, but perhaps a side effect of the quirk? If it is able to transport him to this world, then it would only make sense that it perhaps has some semblance of control over the workings of this world as well? But then, that would mean the quirk user is aware that Shouto is here, or at least that this world exists.

This leads to another question however: Is the user controlling this world from the real one, or are they here with him?

This requires some investigating. Waiting for the next flash of purple seems like the best plan, but what will he do when it comes? In all honesty, leaving the purple flashes be is more advantageous, since it’s making time go faster for him. Should he leave it alone until he’s back to his original age? On the other hand, there’s no guarantee that these purple flashes will keep occurring. Since he hasn’t experienced any hostility yet, it’s very likely that the quirk user, if aware of him, is not a villain. Most likely a scared civilian who doesn’t want to get in trouble for an illegal, even if accidental, use of their quirk.

If that is the case, then contact with the user is his best bet. He will need to come up with some sort of plan to confront the user when the next purple flash comes, on the assumption that the user will be nearby.

With this conviction in mind, Shouto allows the dancing stars to lull him to sleep.

Chapter Text

“I think I’d like to be a cat.”

She glances up at him, as if seeing his face would clear up her confusion.

“They can sleep wherever they want.”

“You already do that.” She frowns, grabbing another handful of cat food. She replenishes the shrinking pile in front of the stray tabby. They both watch as the end of it’s tail twitches in delight.

“They can also sleep whenever they want.”

“Is sleep the only thing?”

He pauses, seriously considering the question. “Well, they are very soft. And it seems like it feels nice to get petted.”

She snorts. “Just get a blanket.”

“But a blanket can’t pet people.”

“So?”

He sets his hand on her head, ruffling her messy hair.

“Stop it!” She squeaks, batting him away.

“It feels comforting, right?”

“Why would it? I’m not a cat.”

He glances at her small frame, as unused to touch as he once was.

“You don’t have to be.”

When Shouto wakes up, he eats baby food for breakfast.

He dourly swallows bite after bite of the bland gruel, wishing he could be eating cold soba at the moment, or at least drinking milk as sweet as what his mother gave him. The concoction is a mix of bread in goat milk, and while it’s easy to eat, Shouto hopes he won’t feel nauseous later.

He’s never had food this solid before, and he assumes that he must’ve time-jumped again. It’s a shoddy job this time, only the difference of about a month, so perhaps the user is being more careful. Do they know he knows about them? His attempt at walking must’ve set them off.

That’s alright though, because if the jumps are smaller, then the user will likely visit more often, perhaps even tonight.

For now, he would make as much use of his time as possible until the inevitable confrontation.

His maid brings him to the usual playroom, and Shouto wastes no time in lifting himself up on all fours. Under the confused watch of his maid, he practices crawling around the obstacles scattered on the rug. Crawling is infinitely easier, and Shouto finds it much faster than any attempts at walking. He glances at his maid and nods his thanks. He wouldn’t have thought of crawling without her help.

The maid for her part seems disappointed. He supposes she’d been anticipating another feat as amazing as walking, but Shouto has no intentions of being so obvious. Anyway, if he were a genius, it would technically be smarter for him to choose a method of movement that would be faster and sturdier.

He spends quite some time navigating between toys, attempting to increase his agility. However, it’s not challenging at all, so it grows old fast. Shouto glances at the maid. She appears to be bored too, as she’s wiping imaginary dust from the shelves.

When he turns back to practice his eyes catch on the door. Touya had pulled it open when he came in the day before, which means from the inside all he would need to do is push it. It’s a chance to explore his surroundings more thoroughly.

But exploring is a bad idea. Exploring could get him some solid information. But exploring would definitely end in getting caught. Although…

Exploring would be much more productive than whatever he’s doing right now.

Shouto crawls to the door carefully, and pushes off the floor to stand again. The maid now has her back to him, so he takes the opportunity to twist the handle and lean heavily against the door. It opens slightly, just enough for him to squeeze through.

When it shuts behind him with a quiet click, Shouto allows himself to fall back on his bottom.

The hallway looks very, very big.

When he takes the time to truly look around, the familiar hallways that he’d always passed by appear entirely new. From the height he’s at now, the walls reach upwards like they’re competing to see who can touch the sky, and Shouto wouldn’t be surprised if they did. The lights hanging from the arching ceiling look like suspended crystals among the grand golden colours, and for the first time, Shouto truly feels like he’s in a palace.

Tall windows framed by thick pillars allow sunlight to illuminate what the lights cannot, and Shouto realizes that here, wherever here is, it is summer. The world looks vividly green, shaded by the dark brown tree trunks, and highlighted by the clear blue sky. Birds flit by, flashes of motion and sound.

Shouto moves towards a window for a closer look. The floor is smooth and sticks to his bare skin, and crawling along it he can see the swirls of white within the maroon rock. He wonders how a rock came to look like someone had half-stirred milk into it, but he supposes that is the magic of a castle.

Getting from one side of the hall to the other is a journey in and of itself, especially because it aches to bang his knees against stone in comparison to the soft carpet of the playroom, but once he reaches his destination he’s rewarded by the medley of colours that overtakes his vision. Standing up once more with the window as his support, Shouto can see the organized arrays of flowers curling around trees and bushes in meticulous shapes that are definitely trimmed daily. The prince presses against the transparent surface, trying to see how far the greenery extends.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, the stone floor cool underfoot and the glass warm against his face, but the sound of clacking shoes startles him from his reverie. Shouto stumbles back and crawls in the opposite direction of the approaching feet, but the sound is getting much louder and is most definitely much faster than he is. The growing murmur of soft voices tells him that there is more than one person. Shouto whips around to see two maids turn the corner.

“… and hiring a Senser is much too expensive, so I haven’t a clue how to help him. I knew attempting to increase his mana unnaturally would have such side effects, my brother really is a reckless oaf!”

“Oh my, and he was off-duty when it happened? You can’t even have the palace pay for him as a guard. Have you tried a request?”

“Who would accept such a low-rate request? There would definitely be a wait of at least a few mo– Oh? What’s this?”

Shouto holds his breath as the maids freeze in place.

“The glass here is smeared! I bet it was the new girl, I’ve told her a hundred times not to touch the windows with bare hands.”

Shouto peeks out from where he’s hiding behind a pillar. He watches one of the maids huffily take a cleaning cloth out of her bucket. She’s staring at the spot where Shouto had been pressing his face and hands.

“Anyway, you told me your great-aunt has professional training in mana, do you think you could ask her what we can do?”

Mana. Shouto notes. What’s mana?

“I would if I could, but she’s been part of some sort of investigation on mana surges for the past few months, since one appeared in Miebe.”

“She lives in Miebe? And she isn’t allowed correspondence? What kind of important investigation would happen in that hick town?”

“No, it’s a casual check. The surges are from babies I believe?”

“It’s normal for children to have fluctuations in mana! How is that important?”

“I think it’s just old habits from when she participated in the Last War.”

So mana is something people have? Shouto wonders, leaning in closer to hear better. The maid is rubbing the wet cloth against the windowpane furiously, making an obnoxious squeaking sound that seems to further dampen her mood.

“What a bunch of bilge! Honestly, whenever my brother makes trouble, it’s always such a pain to fix. You’d think becoming a father would make him more responsible!”

Shouto can’t keep up with the conversation – they’re speaking of events and people and places that he doesn’t know or understand. Listening longer might clear some things up, but the maid appears to be just about done cleaning up his mess. If they begin walking again, he wouldn’t be able to listen further.

Shouto presses his face against the window behind him. If he couldn’t catch up, he’d just have to keep them here.

He crawls around to the next window and smudges it as well. Then, the next and the one after that. He can hear the maid call something out from behind him, and he assumes she’s seen his mess on the windows. Good… well no, he does feel bad, but now they would stay here a bit longer–

Two firm hands grab Shouto around the middle and hoist him into the air.

Shouto stiffens. Oh no.

He twists, attempting to face the person, but he’s held firm. He expected getting caught but not this quickly or abruptly.

He’s just about to bite the arm with his nubs for teeth when a familiar chuckle rings in his ears.

“So you prefer crawling, huh?”

Touya supports Shouto’s tiny body against his arm, and Shouto wraps his arms around his older brother’s neck in relief.

“Young Prince!”

Shouto cringes internally as his maid comes running towards them. Clearly, she’d panicked and searched the entire hallway from the dining area they’d left earlier. She bows deeply, face wet with tears.

“My apologies First Prince! I was not watching him carefully and–”

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Shouto’s a bit of a handful, isn’t he?” Touya nods at the maids Shouto had been eavesdropping on, who shake out of their surprise and bow as well. They begin wiping down the windows Shouto had messed up, and the youngest prince cringes even more. Though his face is impassive, Shouto feels like Touya is laughing at him on the inside. He certainly sounds amused when he says,

“You really like to give the maids trouble, you brat. I think a punishment is in order.”

The oldest prince hands Shouto back to his maid and cracks his knuckles. Before the baby can even blink, Touya’s hands shoot towards his face.

The maid frets as the youngest prince’s cheeks are pinched and stretched like some sort of putty. Shouto bears with it, remaining expressionless throughout the manhandling of his face. He does sort of deserve it, and this is very tame compared to the punishments he’s used to.

“First Prince! I humbly request you to be a little gentler–” The maid splutters, worried that Shouto will cry.

“Heh, he’s so fat.” Touya snickers. “He’s chubbier than Natsu was. Probably Fuyumi too, but I don’t really remember much about when she was small. Maybe I’ll ask Mother.”

Shouto wonders just how much free time his brother has, and so must his maid. “First Prince, pardon me for asking but do you not have a combat lesson with His Majesty right now?”

Touya’s smile becomes forced as he finally turns away. “No, that is tomorrow. Today is–”

“Your history lesson, First Prince!”

The same servant from yesterday pants from down the hall. With a chuckle and a quick wave, Touya turns to go meet him and Shouto acts before he realizes it.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

The maid jolts and the older prince freezes. Shouto hesitates, then wails again, louder. He might as well finish what he’s started.

“Goodness Young Prince, whatever is the matter?!” The maid asks, bouncing him up and down.

“What’s up Shouto? Did that actually hurt?” Touya asks, and when he gets close enough Shouto snatches his sleeve, sniffing pitifully. He represses faint memories of trying the same act with his father in order to skip out on training, something that had not gone well.

Touya is much kinder, taking him back from the maid and attempting to pacify him with the same bouncing method. Shouto quiets down, then picks back up again when the maid tries to take him back.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

Touya pulls him closer so he stops. Then Touya holds him towards the maid and he starts again.

“Well.” Touya says.

The tutor isn’t particularly put-off that Shouto is perched on the study table, paying more attention to the lesson than his older brother is. If anything, he just seems relieved that Touya is finally here. For his part, Shouto is relieved that his tantrum actually worked.

Sitting in on Touya’s history lesson is a golden opportunity to figure out the workings of this world. If he grows too big after the next time-jump, he won’t be able to pull this kind of trick again. That is, if he would still be in this world by then: if Shouto’s inferences are correct, he would be sure to make contact with the user tonight.

His eyes wander the room. They’re in a library, with more glass than wall and shelves higher than anything a normal person could reach. Shouto wonders why the windows are all so huge everywhere in this place, but perhaps they were just scaled up to match the rest of the hugeness that is a palace. While the youngest prince is aware that his sense of size is slightly off due to his shrunken state, it doesn’t stop him from feeling like the rows of shelves went on forever based on how far the ceiling stretched.

Shouto concentrates on the window and the history tutor’s soothing voice to ground himself once more. He needs to pay attention to the elderly man’s words, because there is no blackboard or handout for him to reference, and this lesson must be important if Touya is taking notes so diligently.

Shouto briefly wonders what his handwriting looks like. Fuyumi’s is always clear and legible, most likely because she is used to writing for her elementary students and their parents. In comparison Natsuo’s is rather childish and rushed, but the one time Shouto had seen his handwriting was when he’d glanced at his older brother’s university notes, so perhaps he wrote neater for things like mail. His mother’s handwriting is certainly beautiful when she responds to Shouto’s letters, like the words are floating down the page. He often finds himself trying to imitate her form, but it looks clumsy in comparison.

Writing… It’s such a small thing, but Shouto is curious now. If he doesn’t know much about his living siblings, then his dead brother is practically a mystery. The baby twists, straining slightly to see past Touya’s arm. Would he write simply like Fuyumi, or messy like Natsuo? Is it flowing like their mother’s? Or are his words dark and dented like their father’s, as if he’s trying to rip the paper apart?

“Shou look. It’s a potato.”

Touya sniggers as he scratches a bunch of lines on a lumpy circle. Beside the potato is a rather elongated rendition of the history tutor. Beside that is a wobbly circle with two different eyes and half-shaded hair.

“That’s you.” Touya says, pointing at it. “What should I do next?”

Shouto stares.

“Good idea, I’ll do a cat. Like that weird one that hangs around the garden…”

Touya gets to work on drawing a long inky blob, and Shouto decides to refocus on the tutor’s lecture about the Minority Manifestations’ Rights Movement.

When Shouto wakes up, he eats baby food for breakfast.

The prince swallows the gruel-like food mechanically, wondering why he isn’t eating normal food at the moment. Or sitting in the dining room at the dorms. Or holding his spoon by himself like a teenager should.

Last night he’d been ready for the flash to return. He’d frozen his twinkling crystal baubles so their light wouldn’t distract him, then allowed his right side to take over so the cold would keep him awake. He’d kept his eyes wide open and scanned the room as thoroughly as a baby on their back in a cradle could. But despite how long the night had stretched, Shouto didn’t realize it had ended until the birds began their morning song.

The prince winces as his maid holds up another spoonful of the gruel. Combined with lack of sleep, he feels nauseous.

 By now he’s probably been missing for nearly week, and with little idea as to the situation he’d left behind or what happened to his friends.

His friends. Is it possible they were transported as well? Maybe, since Shouto is sure he’d been together with his whole class when whatever had happened… happened. In that case, are they all in the same situation he’s in?

However, while transporting one person may be viable, to transport him and all his friends would mean the quirk would need to be very powerful, and it’s unlikely that a random civilian would have a quirk like that without any sort of precautions.  

So many questions... none of which he’ll get the answer to without asking the user themself.

It’s frustrating.

Maybe Shouto will try venturing out further today, where some of the more important people in the castle with more information will be. At the very least he could throw another tantrum. It had paid off last time and now he has the general gist of what mana is:

In this world, there are no quirks. Instead, there is something similar called mana, and it originates from a well that exists inside every living being. The power is unlimited, so long as there is life, which is why using too much can drastically reduce stamina; and if used carelessly, can drain all life, leaving a husk of a body.

How depressing.

Yesterday the tutor had focused on ‘manifestations’, which are the forms mana physically manifests as. These manifestations are unique to each individual and passed on through genes, so really, mana is merely a limited version of quirks. If quirks are like a normal part of human development, then mana is like a sort of magic power that not everyone bothered to unlock. Unlike a quirk, mana can not be trained like other body parts, and thus the size of one’s well is static from birth.

Shouto’s main question concerning this new information is whether or not he has these wells. Wells plural, because though it is physically impossible for mana to manifest in more than one generalized form, he has two: fire and ice. He’d been able to create fire this morning when melting the ice off the baubles before the maid saw.

Does he still have his quirk then? It’s plausible, since he’s from another world, but the body he’s in right now is definitely from this world – he’d witnessed his own birth, after all. The only other explanation is that he has two wells, but he isn’t sure if it’s possible for a living thing to have multiple wells. This issue certainly hadn’t been brought up during the lecture.

What a pain.

If he thinks on this further… the circumstances surrounding his birth in the first place aren’t possible if multiple mana wells are not possible. Shouto would theoretically not exist if his father was not hell-bent on creating the perfect heir. From the looks of things in this world, his family situation is certainly the same. Enji had also ensured that his wife came from a royal family whose genes contained strong ice mana. Thus, clearly multiple wells are something possible.

Shouto’s mouth tastes sour. He doesn’t feel like eating anymore.

Well he’s bound to come across more revelations like this. His father would say he’s overreacting. But his father isn’t here, so Shouto figures he’ll snub the next spoon to get the maid to give up on feeding him.

It never comes. Apparently, the maid has noticed his mood. She sets the bowl aside and picks Shouto up. He’s grateful she’s isn’t rough, since he isn’t sure if the food would stay in his stomach otherwise.

They enter the hallway and Shouto is struck by a sudden relief that he won’t need to see his mother anytime soon. As soon as that thought settles his stomach, guilt sets it rolling again. If anything, she should be the one who would rather not see Shouto.

He knows. He knows that she knows he’s not him, but there’s a small part of his brain that believes she may not be able to tell the difference without the scar. Besides, he doesn’t think he can stand the sight of his frail mother weighed down by expensive cloth and heavy jewels.

However, he doesn’t particularly want to go back to the playroom either. It makes his head hurt to imagine sitting inside that oversized toybox full of perfect things, set up in hopes of creating a perfect person. Why couldn’t the windows in the playroom be as big as the ones in the library? Who decided to make the walls such a nauseating tan? Suddenly, it feels like Shouto can understand why one would paint the ceiling to look like the sky.

The hurting in his head spreads to his throat, and Shouto swallows several times to try and ease it. Babies are very weak creatures.

Then the maid turns the corner and keeps walking. Past the playroom, past the window Shouto had pressed his face against so desperately. She turns again, into a hole between the monotonous pattern of pillars and windows and–

The world lights up.

The ceiling is a vivid blue without a cloud in sight, and Shouto realizes that he’s outside. There’s something warming his body, and Shouto doesn’t realize he was cold until his fingers and toes are tingling pleasantly in the late morning sun. There’s a strong breeze that blows by every minute, making the leaves rustle like the sound of rain. He’s so caught up in what’s above that he doesn’t realize they’re moving.

When the maid stops walking, she places Shouto directly on the ground. The prince marvels at the coziness of the light-coloured grass, better than any rug in the palace. He never knew the ground could be so comfortable.

The maid crouches down in front of him, her face soft and eyes crinkled. “You were looking out the window, Young Prince.”

She doesn’t say anymore, and she doesn’t need to. Shouto observes his maid properly, from her plain dark hair tied back in two tails, to her earnest round eyes. She looks young, when most nannies would be older, visibly experienced women. Shouto wonders if there is a person like her in his world; a babysitter he doesn’t remember.

The maid fastens a sunhat on his head and holds out a hand. The prince hesitates, then takes it. She straightens, pulling Shouto up to stand with her. With the guidance of the maid’s firm grip, Shouto takes one small step after the other.

It doesn’t feel like training this time. The maid does not seem surprised, nor does she make any comments about his talent. They come close to the flower beds bordering their little clearing, a sea of vibrant red, white, and pink roses. The different colours weave between each other in immaculate patterns, and Shouto wonders how many gardeners it takes to keep this place so clean.

“Young Prince, look.”

Stark against all the colours is a blinding white structure. It’s a gazebo. The defined pillars appear to glow, and the stairs shimmer. From Shouto’s view, they look tall and somewhat daunting.

“Do not worry, I have your hands.”

It feels like the maid is lifting him at times, but nevertheless it’s on his own two feet that Shouto ascends the steps. When they reach the top, the maid whisks him into her arms and seats him on the railing, facing outwards. Now that he is taller than the bushes, he can see just how vast the garden is.

“Oh, do you see the swans Young Prince?”

The maid points at the clear green pond further ahead, and true to her statement there are a few of the graceful birds floating in the water. Her other arm is safely wrapped around the prince’s torso.

In this moment, he does not think of motives as to why the maid would take him outside. He does not wonder what the plants may tell him about the geographical location of the palace. He doesn’t even try to map out the grounds from his view in the gazebo. Instead, Shouto looks at the swans.

“Ah!”

Another breeze gusts by, forcing the maid’s hair to dance and tickling Shouto’s neck. It also blows his hat off his head.

“Oh no!” The maid yelps, instinctively lurching forward to catch it. She loses her balance and topples over the edge of the railing, accidentally pulling Shouto down with her.

The world goes dark. At least, Shouto thinks it does, but then he realizes he’d closed his eyes.  His maid groans from underneath him – clearly, she’d shielded Shouto with her body. Lucky for them both, the thick bushes surrounding the gazebo had softened their tumble. Shouto looks up at the gazebo to gauge just how far they’d fallen and spots a shadow dart away between the pillars.

Most likely a small animal; perhaps a rabbit. The maid might’ve tripped over it, otherwise she wouldn’t have tumbled over the railing like that. Still, that was quite a struggle for a hat.

Where is his sunhat? Shouto peeks at the maid’s hands, but she doesn’t seem to have it, nor is it anywhere nearby. It must’ve landed further ahead then, since hats are lighter than people. It couldn’t have gone too far. Shouto rolls onto the ground and begins crawling out of the bushes. With all his maid had done for him, the least he can do is retrieve the hat for her. If he does, maybe she’ll smile brightly like Midoriya, or laugh loudly like Uraraka, or pat him proudly like Iida.

But when he makes it out of the bushes, the hat isn’t anywhere on the grass.

There it is! It’s caught on top of the rose bushes. Shouto crawls quickly, revelling in how much better grass feels than stone. He stands up and manages to just about reach it, but to his dismay it’s stuck.

He glances back. The maid is untangling her hair from the branches in order to sit up – she isn’t looking at him.

A little bit can’t hurt. Shouto allows his right side to flurry, and an ice platform begins to grow under his feet.

“Oh my, what a mess! I’m terribly sorry Young Prince, please wait a little longer!”

Shouto stills. The maid hasn’t noticed what he’s doing yet, but she will soon. His impromptu stool is growing too slowly. Sticking out his tongue, Shouto pushes more power into it.

SWOOSH!

Oops. Shouto thinks.

What was supposed to be a stool is now a mini iceberg, and the force has caused the hat to fly further. A little frantically, Shouto slides across the iceberg to the other side of the rose bushes and melts it behind him.

He picks up the hat and places it on his head. There. That wasn’t so hard. I even watered the plants.

The prince looks back at the damp flowers. Sliding, it seems, is even faster than crawling.

He can’t believe he’d forgotten about this. Shouto places his right palm on the ground and sends a stream of cold bursting forth. With excitement he jumps onto it, but he once again underestimates the ice. He slips onto his belly and goes careening. 

The world blurs past him, until he comes to a painful halt. He's crashed into something.

Shouto winces, the nausea from this morning making a comeback. He slaps his left hand onto the ice path to get rid of it. Sliding on his feet will need to wait for when he’s back to normal size again.

More importantly, it seems like he's crashed into a statue. He must've slipped quite far, since he doesn’t remember seeing any statues from the gazebo. The leg has dented from where he hit it, and Shouto is struck by just how fast he’d been going. Then he looks up, and it registers that it is the statue that’s weak:

The figure standing tall and proud is made of pure gold. Pure, shining gold. Shouto pokes the dent he made only to flinch back. Perhaps it’s the heat of the sun, but the metal is burning hot.

But as Shouto’s gaze falls upon the face, his first thought is that the heat definitely came from somewhere inside. Shouto shivers, but resolutely stares at his father’s carved face, directly into his unseeing eyes. The glower is the same, like he couldn’t bother to change his expression for the sculptor, and he looks infinitely bigger than Shouto remembers. The statue is definitely sized up, and Shouto is very sized down.

How narcissistic. Shouto thinks, until he realizes that this statue is part of a line of statues, each depicting different men, each exuding royalty.

A succession of kings. Shouto realizes, and perhaps he would’ve discovered more if the ground had not begun to shake underneath him.

The last thing Shouto sees clearly after he is roughly grabbed by the scruff of his collar is the same glowering face, but this time the eyes are burning with a fury more scalding than the heat of the statue.

Then, the young prince throws up.

It’s quiet despite it being high noon. His windows are shut tight and the curtains block out any light. Not that it matters, his eyes are closed.

The maid is being punished. Thanks to Touya, it’s nothing more than heavy grunt work.

The buzz of cicadas is somehow irritating and soothing at the same time. For some reason, he can’t hear the birds.

He doesn’t know why he expected something like training to be indoors. It’s summer. The entire palace, the land surrounding it, the very country itself belongs to Todoroki Enji. There’s no reason he can’t hold ‘training’ sessions with his oldest son in broad daylight.

Ice slides much farther than he remembers. Perhaps this world is affecting his memory somehow. It had to be the reason he doesn’t remember being punished at all after what had happened. Instead, he’s ‘sleeping’ because he ‘needs the rest’.

It’s quiet, despite it being noon. The buzz of cicadas is somehow irritating and soothing at the same time. Ice slides much farther than he remembers. That’s why, when the cicada’s go silent for a second and Shouto hears a thump, there is already ice bursting from his fingertips as his right hand shoots out.

A piercing screech. His eyes snap open and he yanks it closer. The appendage wiggles in his grasp, but Shouto holds fast.

He’s caught a cat by the tail.

Chapter Text

Her staring doesn’t make him uncomfortable because he knows he tends to do the same. But he is caught of guard when she asks,

“Is your hair real?”

He touches his fringe. “Yes.”

“... Which one do you look like?”

“Both.”

She frowns. “Of course you look like both, I mean which one did you get the hair from?”

“Both.” He says again, because it’s true. “The texture is like my mother’s though.” He adds like an afterthought, even though he’d noted this multiple times when looking at the mirror.

There’s silence as they both bite their popsicles at the same time. He wonders if she thinks he thinks she’s troublesome, which is the last thing he wants.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Which one do you look like?”

The silence continues longer than it should have, and he glances to the side to see her kicking her legs against the empty crate she sat upon.

“My mother, I guess.”

Todoroki Shouto is confused.

‘Let go!’  The cat hisses, clawing at the ice freezing its lower body in place.

“Nu.” Shouto says. He wants answers.

The cat stiffens. Despite the hostile arch of its back and the vicious-looking fangs, its purple eyes glow with something akin to fear.

Shouto holds his hands out in a pacifying manner, hoping it can see that he doesn’t mean any harm. His speech range isn’t the greatest, and the most he can manage is single syllables without butchering his words.

The cat talking is not surprising. Unexpected, but nothing exceptional, since his school principal happened to be a rat. What’s slightly disturbing is that its voice is echoing in his head instead of from where the animal is in front of him. It’s reminiscent of when Mandalay had communicated with them using her quirk during the attack at the camping trip, and Shouto is struck by the thought that maybe telepathy is a feline thing.

 ‘Do- Can you understand me?’  Prods the distinctly female voice. Shouto nods. Best to remain civil so that they could have a proper conversation.

‘Great.’ She sounds relieved for a moment, but perhaps Shouto imagined it because her furry face look very serious as she leans forward, ears flattened back.

‘Now listen closely.’

Shouto leans closer as well.

‘Unfreeze me!’  She snaps.

The prince jerks back, not that proximity would affect the voice ringing in his head at all. He frowns and crosses his arms.

‘What? You’re the idiot trying to communicate with a cat.’  The cat scoffs, and Shouto has the distinct feeling that this conversation is unfair.

You’re the one trying to talk to a baby. He thinks spitefully.

“Ub.” He says instead, wincing at how his mouth doesn’t obey properly. “Aj ub.”

The cat’s eyes narrow, and finally her hackles lower. ‘What?’

“Aj me ub.” Perhaps he should’ve spent more time training his speech than his crawling speed. The cat cocks her head, and Shouto sighs. He mimics sleeping, and points from the cat to the flashing gems above his cradle. He stretches his hands upwards, then looks at the cat meaningfully. Charades is not his best game according to his friends, but the cat’s eyes seem to widen in understanding.

‘No.’  She says.

Frost creeps across her front paws. “You aw naw en a po-de-tun to weh-foos.” Shouto says.

‘It works better when you sleep.’ She scowls, finally taking him seriously. So there is a reason beyond stealth that Shouto only aged up at night.

“So ib I tay a nab rit now, you cou’ aj me ub?”

‘Stop, I can’t understand a word. I was going to wait until you were older…’  Something about the statement is off, and Shouto wonders if she was stalling out of fear, or for another reason. Nevertheless, he’ll need to put his suspicions aside and trust her for now, as the only other person (animal?) from his world.

Shouto flops down onto his blankets and looks at the cat meaningfully.

“We wilw con-tee-noo dis in da moh-ra-nin.”

Shouto awakens in a bed. He sits up.

“I’m awake.” He announces, the words flowing out easier than before. To think talking would be such a glorious thing.

He’s a little surprised when the cat wriggles out from under the covers. He wasn’t expecting her to be so cooperative.

‘I hope you know you left me frozen in the cradle. You’re about three now.’

“Am I?” Shouto says absently, scanning the room. It’s the same place he fell asleep, but everything looks different. The walls are a pale blue, the curtains are no longer pink, and his cradle with the dancing stars is nowhere to be seen. Granted, his head is a little fuzzy, so perhaps he just can’t see it.

“Why couldn’t you age me up this fast before?”

‘Technically it’s not aging up.’

“What?”

‘Nothing. It’s just a matter of how much pressure I put on your mind. You’ve technically just recovered from a long fever, according to that maid.’

“Oh.” Indeed, there’s a bowl of water on his bedside table. Shouto touches his face to approximate his temperature and ends up peeling a damp cloth off his forehead. It’s warm. He attempts to cool it down with his right side, but violent shivers wrack his body.

Shouto inhales sharply and hugs his arms to get them to stop shaking. The shivering subsides with his quirk. He doesn’t get sick often, but when he does his internal temperature grows sporadic and his quirk control sloppy.

“You know a lot. Are you always following me?” After he asks, Shouto realizes that of course the cat had always been there. “Did you trip the maid in the garden?”

‘I didn’t mea–That’s not important.’

Shouto thinks it’s important, but he lets it be for now. With how conservative the cat is being, he doesn’t think he’ll get any information on her identity or how he got caught up in her quirk. He tries recalling if he’d seen a cat in his world, but all he gets is darkness and a pounding headache.

“Will I always get sick?” Shouto grimaces, massaging his skull. The nightshirt he’s wearing clings to his sweaty back, and it feels like it’s too hot to be in his own skin. Shouto kicks off his blankets, somewhat annoyed. Hadn’t he been shivering, just two seconds ago?

‘If you want to keep making big jumps.’ The cat comments, daring him to complain.

Instead, Shouto lies back down. “If I fall asleep agai–”

The door clicks loudly and without thinking Shouto closes his eyes and deepens his breathing. The cat scrambles under one of his many pillows, her ebony fur blending into the shadows.

“Oh dear.” Shouto stills, but even so delight jolts in his chest. That is his maid’s voice. He now realizes that he’d been expecting her to be sent away after the fiasco in the garden. Touya must’ve said something right, then. The prince is overcome by a bout of affection for his older brother.

The blankets are tugged back up over his body, and Shouto resists the urge to kick them off again. Footsteps echo through the room, and Shouto counts two other people.

“The last time the Young Prince had a fever this bad was after the garden trip.” The maid babbles. Shouto can imagine her tugging on her fingers, a nervous tick.

A snort. “That was a fun day.” This voice is low and familiar.

“I believe his mana awakened at that time?” Another voice prompts, deeper, but with the raspy note of an elderly.

“Yes.” The maid confirms, and Shouto recalls that according to the cat, he’d never melted the ice in his cradle.

“To awaken mana at such an age, his body is ill-equipped to handle it.” The elderly voice reasons. “On that note, he seems to have inherited his mother’s power… Perhaps, he may have inherited her constitution as well– ”

“My mother is not weak, Doctor.” There’s something sharp in this voice that Shouto has heard before, and it clicks that this is Touya. He longs to take a peek, but information overrides curiosity for now.

“But she is ill.” The Doctor replies firmly, not intimidated by Touya’s temper. “I believe the Third Prince has too much mana for his body to handle.”

There’s some further discussion on medicines and rules for Shouto (“one spoon before bed, no going out, don’t practice mana near him”), but the boy’s mind can’t help but linger on the word ‘ill’.

‘Congratulations Shouto-san, you’ve officially made a name for yourself as the sickly prince.’

Because he’d inherited his mother’s weak constitution. But ‘sickly’? He wouldn’t attach that word to his mother, at least not anything of the physical sense. Could the reason he’d stopped seeing his mother so often as he got older be this?

The door opens and closes as the doctor leaves, the maid going with him to confirm the medicinal purchases, and Shouto blinks his eyes open and sits up carefully. Touya stands silently at the foot of the big, big bed, his back to Shouto.

Shouto opens his mouth and the words spill out like he says them everyday.

“Touya-nii.”

The boy swivels around and immediately makes his way to Shouto’s side, a light smirk creeping onto his face.

“Heya Shou, how are you feeling?”

“Is Mother okay?” Shouto prods instead, pressing his lips together.

Touya’s eyebrows furrow for a split second, then he runs a hand through Shouto’s sweaty locks. The younger prince can’t help but notice how much more calloused and scarred it is than last time. “Of course little man, she’s perfectly fine. Why don’t you focus on getting better so you can go see for yourself?”

He seems more confused and concerned than secretive, so Shouto allows his reassuring to settle the churning in his gut. There’s one more thing he needs to confirm, so he asks,

“My mana... Is it bad?”

At that Touya’s hand stiffens. “Who said that? You’re normal, you have one mana type, the same kind as Mother.” Shouto looks up to see Touya’s face soften.

“Don’t worry, you’re normal. I’m sure.”

And he is, Shouto realizes, because Touya had frequently come by to check on him, more than Fuyumi or Natsuo or even their mother. He’d come by to monitor the new sibling with two different sides and the most potential to have two different mana wells. And now he can relax because as far as he knows, as far as everyone else in the palace knows, Shouto is another failure. Shouto is normal. Shouto is sickly.

This works in my favour, Shouto’s looks at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. Father– Endeavor– The king… He won’t bother with me.

And somehow, despite the inevitable shunning, the label of ‘weak’, Shouto feels marvelous. Partly because of the pettiness that comes from keeping his abilities secret from the person who cares the most for all the wrong reasons, and mostly because with this, he is free.

Even though Shouto is relatively functional by noon, the cat insists he keep acting sick.

‘If we’re gonna do the jump again, you’re going to get a fever again. It’d be weird if you relapsed as soon as you’ve recovered.’

It's not that weird, but Shouto's fine with it. It gives him and the cat all the time they need to talk.

“We need to talk.”

‘I won’t tell. My name or my age, I won’t tell.’

Well that’s inconvenient. Shouto feels a heavy sense of déjà vu, and he almost wants to push the cat for a reason why, but he acknowledges that if she is this upfront about it, pushing would only result in her backing off, which would undo his cooperation plan. Well, if she wanted to have her secrets she could. It didn’t affect Shouto in any way at the moment, because for now his primary focus is getting back to his world.

“Actually,” Shouto leans down to look the cat in the eye. “Why don’t you send me home?”

The cat seemingly narrows her eyes but doesn’t look away. “Because of the circumstances you left your world in.”

At this Shouto straightens. What circumstances?

‘You don’t remember?’

“My memories of the day… they’re a bit scrambled.”

The cat stares at him for a bit, and Shouto can’t tell if it’s guilt or relief (perhaps both) when she states, “Your conscious is here due to the effects of a quirk. You could go back, but it would be better if you went back together with your friends.”

Shouto catches the unspoken ‘my quirk’, and also–

“My friends?”

And there it is. Shouto is here, and so are his friends. He should be worried, he should feel guilty, but there is only overwhelming relief. Suddenly, his anxious thoughts don’t feel so pressing. Suddenly, this situation is infinitely easier. Suddenly, he feels like he has people with him, even if they aren’t here.

“They- where are they?”

‘I don’t know.’

Shouto blinks, then furrows his brow in a manner similar to Touya. “What do you mean?”

‘I mean I don’t know. They could be anywhere in this world.’

Well wasn’t that hopeful. Shouto clenches his bedsheets, but he isn’t upset. ‘Anywhere in this world’ is better than ‘in another world’, and if it’s up to him to find them all then he doesn’t mind. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to go searching for his friends.

And besides, they’ll probably be looking for each other too. People had a way of finding each other, a phrase he’d heard a hero use when the first life they had ever saved happened to be their future partner, both in life and crime-fighting. It’s one of his mother’s favourite sayings, but he still has no idea why. Even if she’d been found, it certainly wasn’t by the right people.

‘Are you mad?’  Questions the cat.

“No.” Shouto answers, because he isn’t. “Will you time jump again?”

‘It’s not time jumping.’  She grumbles, slinking into his lap. ‘Go to sleep.’

Shouto is not particularly sleepy. Tentatively he runs his fingers through the cat’s fur. It’s soft and warm, but the cat tenses so he quickly switches to his left hand. “You said that before. If it isn’t time jumping, then what is it?”

The cat ponders for a second, like she isn’t quite sure herself. ‘Turning it off and on again, I guess. It happens to us both at the same time you know? You can’t be on if I’m not there to… power you. So, you turn off until I show up again.’

That does not make any sense, but Shouto doesn’t ask for clarification because the cat looks just as bemused as he feels. Perhaps once they found Midoriya, he would be able to work it out.

“Will I be able to get to sixteen again?”

‘I already said you would. It’ll probably take around… four more jumps? If you can handle heavy fevers each time. I won’t be able to activate the next jump until your mind is no longer stressed and able to make another jump.’

That’s fine, and Shouto says so. Once he’s back to his original age, he’ll leave the palace and search for his friends. Having a solid goal keeps him steady, and for now the only thing left to do is wait. And maybe collect more information.

He unconsciously drifts towards his open window at the sound of voices, and Shouto glances out to see a gardener and a maid chatting. Gossip seems to run amok among the staff, and bits and pieces of their conversation float up to Shouto.

“… no more children… pick an heir”

“… sickly… fire manifestation…”

That’s concerning. He’s sure the sickly either refers to him or his mother but based on the question of heirs it’s most likely him. He’s sure the no more children refers to the fact that his mother is most definitely too weak to bear anymore babies (that thought makes him feel sick in a different sense), but why would they mention fire when talking about Shouto?

“I didn’t use fire, did I?”

The cat shakes her furry head, more akin to shaking water off than saying no. “They are only aware of your ice mana.”

But the words “fire manifestation” and “inherit” makes their way to Shouto’s ears again, and he makes the split decision that it’s better safe than sorry.

‘What are you doing?’ The cat hisses as Shouto pries the window open wider.

“Collecting intel.” Shouto responds as the cat jumps onto the windowsill beside him. One of the old trees that resides in the garden happens to be right by his window, and it’s a simple matter to clamber onto the closest branch. His small form allows him to walk along the thick branches comfortably, so he heads toward the trunk to find a branch closer to the conversation that he can lower himself onto.

‘You’re just a natural eavesdropper, aren’t you?’ The cat scoffs, tail swishing nervously.

“I don’t know about that, but I’ve been told I’m good at listening.”

‘Very funny.’ Shouto drops down a branch, thankful that it seems to be early autumn and none of the colouring leaves have fallen yet. It provides ample cover, and he lies down on the branch, head dangling off to hear better. ‘The maid could come in any minute now.’

He can practically hear the disapproval in the cat’s voice. “She’s making lunch, and if she’s adding everything the doctor told her to add, it’ll take awhile.”

‘She’s already been out of the room for 'awhile'. I feel like you’re actively trying to get her fired.’

“Keep watch then.” Shouto says shortly. He is not actively trying to get the maid fired.

Besides, it’s the ones like the maid below slacking off that should be laid off. Despite having a large basket filled past the brim with bedsheets, she’s tittering in the garden where the gardener is trying to do his work. Not that Shouto is complaining, since it gives him the opportunity to listen in:

“Still, to think he had so many kids, only to end up crowning the first one.”

“Calm down, the king still hasn’t announced the crown prince or princess. The youngest isn’t even out of diapers.”

“Actually he is, you don’t know anything about children do you? You wouldn’t be a good father.” For some reason the maid seems to find this off-putting, but she continues, nevertheless. “Crown prince by the way, there’s no way the princess will be selected judging by the way the man treats his wife.”

She glances around anxiously at that statement, like someone would pop out and execute her for it. Shouto thinks she makes a valid point and wishes he himself could announce it to the world without the worry of execution.

“Anyway, it won’t be Princess Fuyumi, it won’t be Prince Natsuo with his weak mana wells, so that only leaves Prince Touya to inherit the kingdom. He is the only one with the king’s fire manifestation, after all.”

Shouto breathes out a sigh of relief at that. So they were talking about Touya after all. All the blood rushing to his head in this position is making him dizzy, so the boy pushes himself up to head back, but the sound of his name holds him place for a little longer.

“What about Prince Shouto?” The gardener drones, but there’s a note of curiosity in his tone.

“Oh, the Third Prince has no chance. I overheard when the doctor visited, he’s sickly like his mother.”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t like the way she states that.

“He’s a baby.” The gardener points out. “He might grow out of it.”

“I doubt it. Besides, haven't you heard the rumours?” The maid leans in but doesn’t lower her voice, so it seems like she’s playing up the dramatics rather than attempting to be secretive. “Apparently, there were actually twins, but the king ordered them to be cut in half and sewn together in hopes that each of their mana types would merge.”

“What the hell?” The gardener exclaims, jerking away. The maid pouts and folds her arms defensively, but Shouto is with the gardener on this one. The story is so outlandish that he would jerk away too if he wasn’t clinging to a branch.

“How else could he be divided so perfectly in every way except his mana? The merge must have failed or something. Everyone was sure he was a blessing from God when he was born, but perhaps the kings meddling with mana and life angered God to the point of cursing the Third Prince with sickness.”

Shouto doesn’t realize he’s lost control until the wood under his left-hand smells faintly of burning. His emotions aren't quite sure where to settle after a story like that, and Shouto tries to tell himself that it’s exactly that – a story. He knows it isn’t true, and so does the gardener, judging by his expression. His nose is scrunched up and he sniffs twice, and that’s when Shouto realizes he isn’t making a disgusted face.

He ices over the burn mark in an attempt to block any remaining smoke, but it’s too late. The gardener’s eyes shoot up, and it only take a few moments for them to lock with Shouto’s bicoloured ones, glowing in the darkness of the foliage. Shouto jerks back to get out of sight, but he’s still dizzy. To his horror, he topples off the branch–

–and straight into the basket of bedsheets.

The last thing Shouto hears is the maid screech before he faints.

‘That better have been worth it.’  The cat says as soon as Shouto comes to. He’d rather not talk right now, seeing as his head is pounding.

Instead he notes that he is back in bed, and that the window is barred.

“What?” Shouto rasps, straining his head to get a better look. It feels like lead, so he lets it fall back down. “When did they do that?”

‘Sometime in the last three years.’ The cat responds, sounding a little more smug than she should be. At least he knows why his head feels like it’s being consistently smacked by Iida’s robotic hand movements. ‘No one wants the sickly cursed prince doing acrobatics from the third floor.’

“I’m on the third floor?” Shouto mutters, not sure why his mind is stuck on such a minor detail. He’s gathered that his room has never changed from its place in the corner of the castle, and Shouto wonders if it’s because the king wanted to keep him squirreled away where no one would remember. That would make a lot of sense, considering his father would most definitely be ashamed of him, due to his status as ‘sickly child’.

“Wait, ‘cursed’?”

‘Yes. I’m not sure what you did, but rumours have spread throughout the palace staff that you’re cursed by God. They’ve had quite a while to spread, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already leaked to the public as well.’

Huh. Shouto thinks. To be blessed by God one day then cursed the next. What odd things, stories are.

The door creaks open and the maid’s head pops in. Her long hair that had previously reached her thighs is now extremely short, curling just past her ears. Shouto almost doesn’t recognize her, what with the easy way she holds herself, shed of all nervous habits and filled with a confidence that comes from knowing exactly who she is and where she is.

“Oh, Young Prince! How do you feel?”

Shouto unconsciously exhales, because her voice is familiar, with that constant twinge of worry. Shouto wonders if part of the reason he feels close to the maid is because she sounds like Fuyumi. He’d never seen his sister so comfortable in her skin like the maid is now though. Perhaps years of dealing with Shouto’s antics had toughened her. Or perhaps, with all the rumours going around, she knows her job as Shouto’s maid is safe because no one else would do it.

“I’m alright.” Shouto assures, but the maid tuts like she expected that response and helps him sit up. She hands him a glass of water, which he gulps down gratefully. He hadn’t even realized he was thirsty.

He doesn’t settle back against the pillows lest he accidentally squish the cat, but instead watches as the maid sprinkles a number of powders inside a leaf and wraps it up with practiced ease. She holds it up and Shouto automatically opens his mouth so she can place it in. After swallowing he grimaces immediately at the pressure that descends on his body, like something was wrapping tight around his core.

He looks at the maid balefully and she sighs, like this is also something she’s used to. Shouto supposes that for her, this is all routine. “Young Prince, you know this medicine is essential for keeping your mana contained.”

No he didn’t, but now he does. Tentatively Shouto reaches for his power, but while the cold flows into his fingertips easily, his fire feels like it’s under lock and key. So the medicine only worked on one mana well because the doctor is under the assumption he has only one. He supposes his fire is the one being tied down since it is the more volatile of the two.

‘I wondered.’ The cat whispers, though Shouto is the only one who can hear her, ‘How did your fire never reveal itself while you were turned off? Surely your counterpart would not know to keep their second mana well hidden, but I suppose this ‘medicine’ is the answer.’

That’s… an interesting comment. Shouto hadn’t thought too hard about what happened between jumps, and he hadn’t even considered the conscious of the Shouto in this world. He’d taken it as this body being empty and accepting his conscious, but apparently that is not the case.

“The on and off you were talking about earlier,” Shouto murmurs, hoping the cat can hear him. “Did you mean you’re turning my conscious on and off in this body? Every time my conscious is activated, does it replace this Shouto’s conscious?”

The cat doesn’t respond, but things are starting to click in Shouto’s head. He has habits like calling Touya and taking his medicine, which aren’t his but Prince Shouto’s. Thankfully, Shouto feels his own habits and thoughts more firmly. He doesn’t know what kind of mindset Prince Shouto may have, considering he is growing up thinking he truly is sickly.

It’s all very confusing, and Shouto feels the vestiges of guilt creep up on him. He’s technically possessing Prince Shouto. The prince probably has gaps in his memory from when Shouto is activated, since Shouto himself doesn’t remember anything from between the jumps. All the more reason to get home as soon as possible.

The maid is laying out breakfast for him, and Shouto slides out of bed to test his physical strength. To his shock, his legs collapse underneath him.

The maid whips around. “Young Prince! What are you doing, get back in bed!”

Shouto wonders if she’s allowed to order him like that, but in any case, he allows her to pick him up and place him back on the mattress. Her uniform is shorter, he notices, allowing for more movement. It’s mostly white instead of black now, which makes her caramel skin more prominent. He doesn’t see any reason for the uniform to change that much, unless this outfit is unique for his maid alone. He wonders how much trouble he’s put her through, for her to require her own custom uniform. There’s a band around the arm with a red cross, the universal sign for medic that apparently extends to this world as well.

And Shouto realizes, her outfit announces loud and clear that she is the maid of the sickly prince, and Shouto has never felt so fragile. After all, he can’t even stand by himself. How strange. Even after being pushed to the point of exhaustion and throwing up his stomach, Shouto’s body has never failed him like this. He knows his limitations, even at the age of six, since it had been beaten into him.

Except it hadn’t.

Shouto stares at his soft hands. He examines his legs, thin and round, like they were there for decoration. Slowly, cautiously, Shouto runs his fingers over his left eye. The skin there is smooth. Scar-free.

“Training!” Shouto blurts out. The maid freezes in the middle of handing him his tray, raising an eyebrow. Shouto stares at her, then blinks slowly, considering how he would do this. It wouldn’t do if he became sixteen again, only to find himself just as unable to walk as he was when he was six months.

“I’ve heard,” He begins, “That exercise is good for building up a strong immune system.”

The maid squints in confusion. “I read it in a medicine book.” He quickly tacks on, and the maid’s confusion turns into curiosity. Alright, she believes him. He’d figured if he mostly stays in bed, reading would be one of the things he’d take up.

“I would like to train in self-defense.” Shouto says casually, like it only makes sense. The maid immediately opens her mouth to protest but Shouto beats her to it. “Some form of exercise is required, and self-defense is both safe and allows me to learn some form of protection. I wouldn’t want to bother… Father, so perhaps a qualified instructor could be hired?”

Shouto has become the king’s dirty little secret. There is no way Enji himself would come to train Shouto, so he does not need to worry about that. But, the king also has his pride, so if the maid went to him with Shouto’s request, he would pick an effective instructor that would help train Shouto’s body, not just teach him techniques he already knew. Of course, it would mostly be to keep Shouto quiet, since he has already established himself as a wanderer. By the time Shouto is sixteen again, hopefully he will be in good shape, and his body may retain some form of muscle memory.

‘So you can think ahead.’  The cat comments, and Shouto thinks her surprised tone is hardly fair. He’s the one who’s been doing all the planning.

“… If you truly believe you can do this, then I will ask King Enji myself.” The maid concedes, biting her lower lip. “But please don’t take this lightly. You could get hurt.”

He could, but it’s nothing he can’t handle as he knows from experience. The instructor was unlikely to be as brutal as his father. Actually, a certain instructor would definitely never push him to the extremes.

“What about Touya-nii?”

The maid startles, like the question had come out of nowhere. She pats him in an imitation of his older brother, but her eyes don’t meet Shouto’s the way Touya was always sure to do.

“There is still no word of the Crown Prince, though it’s already been half a year since he’s gone missing.”

Chapter Text

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” She grumbles, dragging a stick through the dust of the alley floor. Drawing lines. Creating sections. Separating the incredibly small, indistinguishable grains of dirt.

It’s afternoon, the time when the sun is just coming down from its highest point, warming desks so they felt like beds. When chatter lulled and pages rustled, when thoughts strayed from textbooks to parks and video games.

He raises an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you?”

Everyone has their own way of escaping.

Fuyumi gets lost in dreams of happy families. She thinks that maybe if she collects all the pieces and glues them together, they’ll somehow fit perfectly. That despite the jagged edges of some, the worn and chipped edges of others, they would all merge seamlessly. Like the cracks were never there. So she tried her best, to collect the pieces, smooth their edges. But the glue she offers is weak, and never gets the chance to dry. Still, she leads as normal a life as she can, tries to extend that normalcy to the rest of them. She blankets them all with this word, ‘normal’, like if she says it enough then they’ll all believe it the way she does. It’s a rather pretty notion, even if it is shallow.

Natsuo creates his own reality. He has no such fantasies, nor does he decorate what he does in fancy words. He just goes out the door and doesn’t look back. He creates a different life, one where he truly is ‘normal’ – despite the current of anger running through him, despite the certain people and places he actively ignores. It’s why there’s discord, whenever he returns. His ‘normal’ doesn’t quite fit here, so it calls for that current of anger to back it up. To show that his ‘normal’ is the one that’s right, and that it’s this place, these people, that aren’t. It's this place and these people causing the dissonance, despite the fact that harmony requires the cooperation of both parties. It’s defensive and stubborn and perhaps a bit admirable, even if it is ignorant.

Touya leaves. It never really seems to be of his own volition, but maybe it would only have been a matter of time anyway. Touya… He never did let their father restrain him, always talking back, always doing what he wanted. It was as inspiring as it was terrifying. In a moment of weakness on the anniversary of his death, Fuyumi had shamefully admitted that sometimes she had just wanted Touya to shut up and obey their father. She was so afraid for him, and so tired of their father’s rage. Shouto remembers the rebelling in a more positive light – after all, his favourite nights were when Touya snuck in to see him, though it was forbidden.

Shouto often wondered, in the darkness of the night when his thoughts wouldn’t let him rest, about another world. One where he and his siblings would not need to escape. They would definitely grow into different people, happier people. Instead of clinging to unrealistic ideals, perhaps Fuyumi would actually live them. Then her impossible dreams would be about raining chocolate or world peace, instead of a normal family. Natsuo would definitely be less angry, and he would probably be home more too. He would look at Shouto with a real smile, instead of guilt in his eyes and stiffness in his jaw. Perhaps in that world, Shouto would actually know what his university course is. And there would be four of them instead of three, because Touya would be there. Shouto isn’t sure how his oldest brother would look, or what he would do… well, maybe he would ruffle Shouto’s hair, but out of fondness instead of relief.

And as Shouto had allowed himself to dream like Fuyumi, pretend he was normal like Natsuo, leave the constraints of his closed world like Touya, he’d never considered that perhaps in that other world, things were exactly the same.

It’s laughable, really. A different world, a different time, and Shouto still can’t escape the same fate.

Touya is gone, Shouto learns. Not dead, but missing.

The maid chews on her cheek, looking very sorry though nothing is her fault. Shouto schools his face into a stoic expression. The inevitable had happened: Touya had most definitely ran away. There was no way someone could’ve kidnapped the oldest prince from right under the king’s nose, not without cooperation from the prince himself. Besides, the training had definitely hammered down on Touya since Shouto and any prospects of future children were out of the picture, so it was very likely Touya had gone to escape the ‘education’ of the Crown Prince.

For a second, Shouto's breath stutters in his chest, because from what he knew about Touya’s constitution and his fire, training would be the most hellish for him. Shouto’s fake weak body had put Touya’s in danger. Any resentment towards Touya for leaving them all and escaping by himself did not exist; Shouto did not have the right.

“I see.” The prince finally says. There’s silence, a tad too suffocating to be comfortable, as he quietly eats whatever he can recognize on his tray. There is a porridge reminiscent of the gruel he’d had before, and Shouto carefully avoids it in favour of the fruit. It didn’t feel much like a royal meal, but perhaps this was just one of the drawbacks to his sickly cover. He polishes off the bread soaked in milk, and he’s not quite sure what to do with himself as he reluctantly stirs the gruel.

The maid carefully pulls the tray away. “Why not visit the First Princess in the library?” She suggests gently, “Perhaps you could find more medicine books to read while you are there.”

So Shouto heads to the library to find his sister and medicine books. It’s wet and chilly outside, the maid had pointed out before he left. She’d dressed him in layers, seemingly unbothered that she had to help the prince out of bed and dress him herself. For Shouto, there’s no real embarrassment with the lady who’d changed his diapers, but he can’t help the curl of shame from being so useless. Even if he could get his fingers to do up the buttons, he has no idea which bits to wear first, where to tie what.

The layers are to keep warm. The maid had chuckled when he pointed out that he wouldn’t need to go outside to get to the library. You are still recovering, and there is little insulation in the library, what with the mostly glass walls.

The thick sleeves are stiff, and the front is done up tightly by the double lines of golden buttons, restricting his movement. His walk to the library feels like the most exercise he’s had in his life, which he supposes isn’t that far off. Hopefully that would change, since while he’s in the library, the maid assured that she would immediately see to his request about training. Shouto has a feeling she’d turned the training idea into an attempt to distract him from Touya.

The cat had already left to spy on the proceedings, and Shouto knew she would report the maid’s arrangements back to him. So, Shouto lets himself be distracted. His slow pace allows him to admire the sight of the rain pattering against the window, the drops shining in the dark weather. He almost wants to press his face against the window. The glass would probably be cold, instead of warm like last time. Maybe he would even manage to catch a whiff of the damp earth.

He’d never found himself this entranced with the outside, and there’s a longing in his chest that almost feels like…

It’s the same feeling he’d had while watching his siblings play, all those years ago. Back when he really was six. Shouto wants to feel the dirt, taste the rain. He knows what it’s like – he’s been caught a few too many times by a sudden cloudburst – yet somehow those feelings escape him. They are foreign, to this body.

Whether you’re too weak or too strong, there always seems to be something out of your reach.

Shouto is so caught up in the outside that he doesn’t realize he’s bumped into someone until he’s falling onto his back.

“Ah!” The person yelps, and Shouto looks up to see an unfamiliar maid. He tries to get up, but he feels like an upside-down turtle. He looks at the maid imploringly, but she’s frozen, as if she’d walked into the devil himself. More than a little annoyed, Shouto rolls onto his belly. He pushes himself up, squinting from the effort.

“A-Ah, I’m sorry Third Pri- HIIIIII!” The maid scrambles back, any attempts to help him up lost in her haste to get away. Her eyes whip away, lingering on his ears. All he’d done was look at her. Exactly how bad were the rumours?

With a final shove, Shouto is back upright. He trails after the fleeing maid, turning the same corner. She’s by the tall dark oak doors at the end of the hall, frantically shaking another servant.

“Lord have mercy, he appeared out of nowhere! And the way he glared at me, I swear his eyes were glowing! You don’t think he’s mad, do you?!”

She’s so distraught Shouto is already a few steps away before she notices him.

“HIIIIIIII! H-He’s here. He’s definitely mad, he’s definitely mad!”

She’s whispering, but she may as well be shouting. Shouto stares as she trembles behind the other servant, who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else but here. He stares as he shuffles closer, right up to the large doors.

Then he pushes them open and slips inside the library. He isn’t sure if the thud behind him is the door closing shut, or the maid fainting.

The devil indeed.

Fuyumi is aiming to be a scholar, Shouto learns. A relatively normal profession, if on the higher end of the salary and status scale.

She doesn’t look up from whatever she’s writing when Shouto trudges over to the table she’s sitting at. His feet automatically carry him there. It’s only after Shouto settles in the chair beside her and rests his head on folded arms to gaze out the window, that he realizes it’s the same table Touya studied at.

They sit like that for a bit, silent except for the sound of rain and a scratching pen. It’s almost like music, and Shouto begins tapping a beat. It’s simple and a bit clumsy, and he thinks if Jirou were here she might be able to make an actual song out of it. Just as he’s getting the hang of it, even adding a little flair, Fuyumi sets down her pen and turns to look at him. The corners of her lips are turned up in what looks more like a grimace than the smile she’s going for.

“Hey Shou-chan, why don’t you find something to read? Quietly?”

Shouto stares up at her, then nods once. He slips off the chair and walks over to the shelves. At the relieved sigh behind him, he decides to explore a little deeper into the library, where he won’t disturb his sister.

As he zig-zags through the towers of books, he starts seeing fewer and fewer glimpses of the rainy windows, and a little too late Shouto realises that he should’ve kept track of his path. It’s a lost cause now, so Shouto just trusts that he’ll find his way out when he needs to. If it comes to it, the shelves looked climbable.

The books are tucked in neatly, and Shouto runs his fingers over the smooth bumps. Despite how old they look, there isn’t a speck of dust. He wonders if the shelves higher up would be dustier. It didn’t look like All Might himself could reach the ones at the very top, let alone someone of his current stature. With that in mind, Shouto goes searching for a ladder of some sort. It would be funny if the king’s immaculate library were dirty where no one could see.

For the most part the shelves around him are all tall and flat, with nothing to really tell them apart. It only takes a few minutes for Shouto to get frustrated by this endless maze. He eyes the shelves again. He didn’t really need a ladder.

Shouto grips the closest shelf and steps onto the lowest one. He flattens himself against the wall of books. There was much less room than he’d anticipated. He raises his foot again, stepping onto the one above it. Carefully, he lifts his other foot up too. When he doesn’t fall, Shouto lets out the breath he’d been holding, and repeats the motion once, twice. He feels slightly more uncomfortable with every shelf he ascends, though the shelves are all an equal distance from each other. He glances up to check how much further he’d need to go.

And finds himself staring into wide purple eyes.

“Whoa–!” Shouto jerks back, losing his balance. His arms reach forward even as he’s lurching back, ice instinctively racing to his fingers. His frost-covered hands end up pushing against a thick navy book, and a soft whooshing is the only warning he gets before the prince tumbles… through the shelf?

Shouto sits up, ignoring the ache in his bottom and back. He turns around just in time to see the small entrance shrink away, like it never existed. It had opened up right where he’d been climbing a few seconds ago. A secret door?

‘So you already knew about the hidden passages?’ A voice echoes in his head. Shouto stands with a little less difficulty than before. He was getting the hang of his body. Beside him, the cat stares up unapologetically, despite spooking him.

“I didn’t. It’s a bit random. Anyone could stumble into it.”

‘Your mana activated it. I only knew about these passages because I saw your brother use them.’

Shouto didn’t bother asking which one. It was just another explanation for how Touya was able to pop in and out of places within the palace.

“I thought you were checking on the maid.” Shouto comments, wandering further down the dark hall. The walls were more like the sides of a hastily dug tunnel, bumpy and uneven. The torches positioned every few feet on the left only barely lit up their assigned area. As Shouto walks by, he casts odd shadows on the other wall.

‘I was. She’s over this way.’

The cat bounds ahead. Shouto picks up the pace, trying to keep up. He’s already out of breath and aching, but that just makes him more determined to keep up. Stupid body.

They turn into a slightly larger hallway, the end of which is a properly flat wall. Without any prompting, Shouto presses his hand against it, allowing his mana to surge up once more.

As soon as the entrance appears, he slips through. Immediately he sees the maid, talking with a tall, tall, silver-haired man.

‘Hide!’ The cat hisses.

Where? Shouto wants to ask, because he’s in a wide-open room with nothing but weapons. Stacked along the walls, dumped in crates. They all look dull and worn, some even made of wood. If this was the kingdom’s armory, Shouto would overthrow the king himself just for being such a hypocrite about strength and military.

Even from the back, the man definitely looks like a fighter. Feet apart, arms loose and ready at his sides. His eyes flicker, scanning the room. A hand raises to his hip, as if to rest on an imaginary hilt.

“I’m sure interacting with him shouldn’t be an issue.” The maid’s eyes wander as well, but more to avoid eye contact than anything. “Your sister told me that you have a child about the same age…” The maid trails off, her sight locking on Shouto. The prince sees the exact moment realization crashes into her.

“Young Prince!” The maid gasps, and Shouto stiffens as she rushes towards him. “Why are you here?!”

Shouto doesn’t know what to say, so he shrugs. The man she’d been talking to earlier strides up to them.

“Now, now, that isn’t any way to talk to the royal family. Although, I am wondering the same thing myself. I did not sense you enter, Your Highness.” Though his tone is light, his eyes pierce into Shouto’s skin. Shouto doesn’t feel very comfortable, and the man’s mask doesn’t help. It hides the lower half of his pointed face, so all Shouto has to go on are his pitch-black eyes. The prince wonders if the man has heard the rumours about him, but judging by the behaviour of the maid earlier, perhaps it would be easier to wonder who didn’t know the rumours.

Hesitantly, Shouto glances around the room. There were two entrances, one from the castle and the other presumably from the outside. He turns to the outside entrance, but in the corner of his eye he spots the cat shaking her head from behind a crate. He points to the entrance from the castle.

“Did you follow me? What about the library?”

Shouto shrugs, not sure what to say. Maybe she’ll assume he’s merely excited at the prospect of training.

“… Quiet kid, huh.” The man murmurs, and Shouto thinks he isn’t meant to hear that, nor notice the way his eyes linger on the side of the prince’s head, then glance back at the wall.

But he does, so Shouto decides to speak up. “Will you be the one training me?”

The man blinks, then scratches his head. “I dunn- do not know, Young Prince. Are you sure you are up to it?”

Before Shouto can respond, the maid sets her hands on his shoulders, her wide sleeve ends wrapping around his face. Her mouth is set in a firm line, and she glances down to nod at him.

“As I said, the Young Prince can handle it. It will be a good way for him to keep active.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “I hope Your Highness will not treat this as merely exercise.”

So he would teach seriously. That’s exactly what Shouto wants.

“I won’t.” The prince promises quickly, and perhaps a little too loudly. That seemed to finally crack a genuine smile from the man, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“You are a little small, Young Prince, but the earlier the better. I think you can handle it.”

An echoing clang breaks through the conversation, and the three turn to see a boy standing in the outside entrance, rubbing the back of his neck. He picks up the sword he had evidently dropped. In a second, the man’s entire demeanor changes.

“What’ve I told ya about your sword, Prince?!” He barks.

“Treat it like a lady.” Natsuo recites, rolling his eyes. “What a dumb saying. Everything in here is basically junk anyway.”

Shouto perks up, leaning away from the maid to get a better look. Natsuo’s eyebrows jump.

“Shou-chan?”

Natsuo plans on going to Kisdurelle, Shouto learns. An elite academy for those aspiring to be Royal Knights.

His older brother doesn’t quite meet Shouto’s eyes as the man berates him, talking about the academy’s rigorous training regime and the strict discipline expected of Kisdurelle students. Shouto wonders if Natsuo didn’t mean for him to find out about his plans.

“Kisdurelle is an international boarding school, ya know that! I know ya can afford the accommodations, but actually getting in and then graduating successfully is a totally different matter!”

Well, there’s the reason why. Shouto stores the information about the academy in the back of his head. It would be nice to at least know about the school this world’s Natsuo is running away to.

“Really, the entrance exam may be a couple years off, but that don’t mean ya can slack off in training, Prince!”

“I’m not slacking off.” Natsuo insists. Then he finally makes proper eye contact with Shouto. “Is… Is Shouto going to start training too?”

The man folds his arms. “Ah, yeah. I guess I can’t keep calling ya- you Prince anymore, not when there is two of you now.”

Shouto isn’t the only one who notices the shift in his speaking. Natsuo raises an eyebrow.

“I guess we’re done training for today, huh?”

When the man nods, his older brother grins at him, grabbing his hand. “C’mon Shou, let’s go visit Mother!”

Shouto allows himself to be dragged, baffled by the sudden topic change. He twists back, searching for the cat. Instead, he meets the eyes of his maid, who smiles at him and bows.

“I will see you later, Second Prince, Third Prince.”

As he’s tugged through the door and into the castle halls, he can only hope that the cat is following. Natsuo seems to have the route memorized, but each of his strides is double Shouto’s, so it isn’t long before the youngest stumbles onto his face.

This clumsiness is getting old, fast.

Shouto is considering saving himself the trouble and knocking himself out on a nearby wall. Maybe then the cat could work her magic. He’s contemplating a rather sturdy pillar when he feels arms wrap around his middle. His feet leave the ground for only a second before he’s dropped.

“Ugh, you’re so heavy now.” Natsuo complains jokingly, and he scratches his cheek, considering, before crouching. “Here, get on.”

Shouto clasps his hands. He’s… never been carried like this before, not since he’d been this age 10 years ago–

“Ready, Natsu-nii.” Shouto murmurs, gingerly hugging his brother’s shoulders and allowing arms to hook under his legs.

“Hup!” Natsuo grunts, jumping up. It causes Shouto to grab tighter and get a mouthful of hair. He wonders if he’s heavier than Natsuo anticipated, since his brother looks almost confused as he shifts to get a feel for Shouto’s weight.

But Natsuo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he starts off once more, slower this time. It’s not uncomfortable, but not comfortable either since Shouto isn’t sure if he’ll be dropped or not. The maid and Touya, they were one thing. They’ve been carrying him since he was born, the latter doing so in Shouto’s original world as well. Natsuo…

Shouto doesn’t even recall if they’ve hugged before.

After what seems like an eternity, yet too soon, they arrive at a familiar set of doors, though Shouto’s never seen them before. Blue trim frames the faded white wood. He didn’t even know that white could look faded. Before they can knock, two maids exit the room with an empty meal cart.

Well, one is pushing the cart with the stack of empty trays. The other is scampering behind her, mouth moving a mile a minute.

“Just ask Abe, he definitely followed me!” She presses.

“Wasn’t he just… entering the library?” The other maid responds tiredly.

“Yes, but he appeared right as I was talking about him! Isn’t that strange?”

“Maybe you should be careful right now then.”

“Oh, there’s absolutely no way this time. He’s all the way in the other wing–”

The maid freezes, her speech stuttering to indistinguishable blubber. Her and Shouto come nearly face to face as Natsuo pushes past them to get inside. Shouto stares at her.

It takes him a moment to recognize her face, and his brows furrow when he does. He’s still watching the maid tremble as the door close between them once more.

“It’s creepy if you stare like that, Shou.” Natsuo snickers. Shouto blinks at him. He was just trying to examine her reaction. Perhaps he could figure out the reasons behind the rumours about him while he’s at it, since the behaviours of the people around him are starting to wear him out.

He focuses his attention on their surroundings. The room is large and bland, but in a relaxing way. It feels like a breath of fresh air, within this rich and imposing palace. When Shouto looks up, he sees flower lights and a blue sky.

Mother’s room.

The large bed is pushed up against the back wall, beside the partially opened window, instead of in the middle of the room like Shouto’s. The gauzy curtains surrounding it are tied up, and the furniture is sparse: a bedside table, a wardrobe, a comfy sitting chair. It’s not quite full, but not quite empty.

The room feels like it’s trying it’s hardest to not feel claustrophobic.

Sitting on the bed and gazing out the window with an open book in her hands, his mother looks a lot more familiar than the last time he saw her. A lot more like the lady he visits every Sunday. Shouto’s not sure how that should make him feel, so he tries not to feel anything.

“Mother!” Natsuo calls, and Rei turns like she knew they were here. She probably did, but she raises an eyebrow all the same.

“Natsuo, you know not to enter a lady’s room without knocking.” She scolds lightly, and Natsuo rolls his eyes. Shouto glances at his mother cautiously, but she doesn’t seem offended, just fond.

“Ladies this, ladies that. What’s so important about girls? All they do is wear fancy dresses and have tea parties.”

There are two things in that sentence Shouto feels he should point out. “It’s a matter of respect, you shouldn’t enter anyone’s room without knocking. Also, you wear fancy dresses too, Natsu-nii.”

Natsuo splutters, barking about how he didn’t wear dresses, and Rei giggles.

“You are very right, my little Shouto. Come here,” She beckons, opening her arms. “Isn’t he bit too big now, Natsuo?”

“Not at all.” The boy crows, turning to dump Shouto onto the bed. “He’s super light, I was surprised. I’m definitely getting stronger!”

“That you are.” Rei smiles, reaching up to pat the older prince’s cheek. Natsuo puffs up as her hand retreats, settling onto Shouto’s head. Though the hand combing through his hair is soothing, his mother's face contains concealed worry.

“How are you, Shouto? Are you feeling better?” Shouto nods, melting into her chest. Even if he wasn’t before, he definitely is now. The feeling of his mother’s bosom, her fingers massaging his head, eases all the tension inside of him. Right now, his worries feel very far away.

“That’s good.” Her fingers tug on the tips of his ears, then freeze, and wander back up to his hair. “Why… don’t you grow your hair out? I think it would look very handsome.”

“Hm?” Shouto looks up at his mother. Unlike Natsuo, Shouto had his mother’s silky, straight locks. He examines the way her hair falls down almost past her hips, like a curtain around her head, framing her face. He’s never seen her style it, or even tie it up like Fuyumi does. He wonders, what else does one exactly do with long hair?

“Not as long as mine.” Rei says, noticing her son’s gaze. “Just... a little past your ears, maybe.”

Like down to his chin? That would certainly be longer than he is used to. Shouto shrugs, but he’s already decided that he would do that. Whether it would be handsome or not, his mother had requested it, and what reason did he have to reject her? He hopes his counterpart will follow through on this.

“What about me Mother?” Natsuo asks, plopping beside Shouto.

“You could grow your hair as long as Fuyumi-nee’s.” Shouto suggests, “Then you’ll both match when you wear fancy dresses.”

Natsuo shouts in outrage and their mother chuckles. Shouto stifles a grin.

The walk back is a quiet affair. The cat had not followed him, so after leaving their mother’s room, Shouto had told his brother that the maid would be waiting for him back in the training area armory. Natsuo offered to carry him back, but Shouto adamantly refused both for the sake of the lie and his pride.

“I’m going to walk by myself.” Shouto had said. At Natsuo’s skeptical look, he tacked on, “If I practice doing things myself, I can be as strong as Natsu-nii.”

That did the trick, and one painfully tight hug later, Shouto made his way down the hall. It’s relatively easy to retrace their steps, although he finds himself floundering in the last hall. Which door had it been? The entrances in this palace were all western, and hard to distinguish from each other. The only recognizable doors belonged to important rooms and sections such as the library and the royal bedrooms, and perhaps he’d taken that for granted. When he’d wandered around before, he hadn’t needed to worry about getting back.

‘Shouto-san.’

Shouto jolts, then trots over to the cat, who is peeking through a door. He slips inside, noting the emptiness before following the cat to the wall. Silently, he presses his hand against it and activates his mana.

‘Shouldn’t you make sure the coast is clear?’ The cat abruptly demands. Shouto looks at her weirdly. The entrance has already opened in front of them. He enters, and a few steps later so does the cat.

“I trust that you wouldn’t have signalled for me if there were still people.” Shouto responds slowly.

‘Are you even taking this seriously?’

Shouto swivels around. The cat has stopped following.

“Yes, I am.” Shouto says. He is. Talking with mother, hanging out with Natsuo and Fuyumi... it’s all just for information.

The cat stays silent, turning her head away. Shouto turns away as well, and continues walking.

Are you even taking this seriously?

Shouto watches his feet, avoiding cracks and shadows. His eyes slowly raise, registering the path ahead, then raise further, catching on the holes in the walls.

Entrances to other hallways most likely. Which one is the one that led to the library? He should’ve known that secret passages would be maze-like, but perhaps that is just how this castle worked. Large and dramatic, but complex and even messy if you explored deep enough.

Well, he’d entered this hall looking at torches, so he would need to face away from them to go back. Shouto inhales, picks a hole, and walks through.

Behind him is the sound of scrambling claws on stone.

Are you even taking this seriously?

Shouto marches down the hall and up to the solid wall. Without hesitation, he lifts his right hand and calls for frost. Something tugs on his pant leg, but Shouto pays it no mind. He exits the dim halls, eyes fluttering from the sudden light bathing his face. In the split second it takes Shouto’s eyes to adjust, someone chokes out a gasp.

A familiar maid stands before him, cleaning a bed. Her eyes dart from his face to his hair to his ears… to his frost-covered hand.

What happens next is very fast.

The maid screams and the cat jumps, clawing up her dress.

‘Hide! Properly this time!’ She screeches, leaping from the maid’s chest to cover her face, and Shouto does.

And it’s a good thing too, because at the maid’s scream the door bangs open. Several other servants barge in, many shouting in worry and confusion. One man finally steps forward to rip the cat off the maid, tossing the creature aside. The rest circle the sobbing maid, patting her back and asking what happened. In the aftermath, the cat manages to slink away undetected.

“H-He was here! He was here!”  She wails, clutching her torn skirts.

“Saki,” One says gently, patting her back. “There’s no one else here.”

“He was, he was! He came through the wall with frozen fingers and inhuman features. That cat, that cat is his!”

The others glance at each other, then around the room.

“Saki!” The same servant bites sharply. “That is not a word to use.”

“But they were Abe, he is. You all know who I’m talking about.” Her crying has quieted into sniffles, and now there’s something almost manic in Saki’s eyes.

“I mean, you’ve been talking of no one else.” One servant jokes lowly. Someone elbows him.

“I’m just saying,” Saki continues, head bowed. “Isn’t there a reason the mother is sickly–”

A slap slices through her words, echoing in the ensuing silence. Saki jerks back, looking at Abe in hurt and shock.

“Keep your head about you. That is the Queen you speak of.” He states icily.

Saki shuts her mouth, head jerking back down again.

“Kinda funny there’s a cat here of all rooms.” One servant pipes up, but they’re immediately hushed. Abe sighs.

“Come, we can save cleaning this particular room for another day.”

Everyone clears out. Saki makes to retrieve the bedsheets, but Abe stops her, lightly tugging her out of the room. The door closes with an audible click.

A second later Shouto gasps for air, his head popping out of the dusty sheets.

The cat crawls out from under the bed.

‘Do you have a thing for laundry?’ She jibes, ears flicking. Shouto shrugs. She bristles.

‘What were you thinking? She saw you use mana! What would you have done if I had just run off?!’

Are you even taking this seriously?

He is and he has been. But it didn’t feel like that was the question she was asking.

Why do you trust me?

“You didn’t.” Shouto says, and the cat stares at him. “Thank you, by the way. You bought me some time to hide. Properly.”

Shouto turns to examine the room, without waiting for a response. He has a feeling he knows where they are. The bedroom is large and royal and covered in dust.

The prince shuffles over to the large desk against the wall. It’s dark and grand, with cubbies along the top that acted as little shelves. There are papers and stationery shoved in every available space, without rhyme or reason. It looks more like someone had gone through everything, rather than just messiness. Shouto climbs into the straight-back chair, and from where he’s sitting now, the locked drawer under the desk is visible.

Or at least, a drawer that used to be locked. The wood by the keyhole is splintered, clearly having been forced open. Sure enough, Shouto can easily pull the drawer out. A lone leather-bound journal sits there, innocently.

The prince takes it out, stroking the cover. He opens it to the first page.

“PROPERTY OF FIRST PRINCE TODOROKI TOUYA” it reads across the top. Shouto closes the drawer, then closes the book, tucking it under his arm. He slides off the chair.

“I’m not sick anymore.” Shouto says, walking over to the wall. He opens the entrance once more. “I’ll go take a nap. You know what to do.”

Though she doesn’t have any, Shouto can feel the cat raise an eyebrow.

Shouto pauses in the reopened entrance, turning to look back at her through the shadows. He grips the journal tighter.

“It’s time to plan our escape.”

Chapter Text

“What would you do if I was a villain?”

“... Put you in time-out?”

“Answer seriously.”

“Make an ice slide?”

She looks at him incredulously. “Where are you pulling this logic from?”

“It worked before, with kids a couple years younger than you.”

“Were they villains?”

“No.”

“So it’s not the same.”

He glances at her small hands and childish features.

“It’s not that different, either.”

The music echoes through the halls. The party is being held in the large ballroom in the main building of the castle. There would be dazzling lights bathing the room in a rich gold, the sweeping arch of the ceiling convincing the guests that there was no bigger room in the entire world. Intricate pillars would border the dancing floor, and between them ladies and lords alike would mingle and hide, giggle and gossip.

Then the doors at the top of the grand staircase would burst open, and out would come the king himself, clothed in deep blue, sporting a conspicuous red cape, and oozing authority. Behind him would be the lady of the night, dressed in their kingdom’s royal colours as well, for the first time in her life, as is tradition. Escorting her would be a dashing young man in that frozen stage of development: the cusp of a soon-to-come growth spurt.

And the royal family would be greeted and revered.

Yet despite all the grandiose, the happy façade, people would whisper. They would whisper, why is only half the family present? Where are they?

The missing heir, the elusive queen, and the rumoured prince.

At least, that is what Shouto imagines.

Though he expects the ball is a warm and grand event, to be stuck in his dark room – with only the faint echoes of song and dance creeping through the halls – is dismal.

The maid knocks twice, then opens the door. She’d never done that before, but maybe that was a part of growing older. She checks his forehead, then resoaks the cold towel. Shouto watches her methodical movements with half-lidded eyes. He can’t read her blank face. He wonders if she wanted to peek in on the ball with the other maids. He knows he does. Natsuo and Fuyumi had sounded so excited when visiting him earlier. He doesn’t remember exactly what they’d said, given he’d been delirious, but he’s sure he would’ve liked it, if only because they clearly did.

‘I don’t get it.’ The cat whispers, though Shouto is the only one who can hear. ‘It’s only been two years.’

Yet Shouto is bedridden with a fever higher than he’s probably ever had in his life.

‘For a two-year jump, it shouldn’t be this bad,’ She reasons, ‘Unless… You were already sick?’

What were the chances of that? Shouto wants to ask, but he feels short of breath. He’s rarely gotten seasonal sniffles before now, forget about fevers. Perhaps his ability to regulate his internal temperature had been skewed due to the suppression of one of his mana wells, which was technically the equivalent of erasing half his quirk.

But suppressing his fire was not something new to him. He’d avoided his left side for far longer than this Shouto had.

“Worry not, Young Prince.” The maid murmurs, brushing back his hair. Her hand is pleasantly cool, and Shouto finds himself leaning into the touch. How long had it been, since someone had last touched him gently? In this world, it seemed to happen much more frequently, from many different people.

“You were just fine this morning.” She continues, as if answering his thoughts. “I am sure your fever will go as quickly as it came. I promise you will get to attend at least one night of the First Princess’s Debutante.”

Debutante. Debutante. The word pulses in his head, like a reminder that the passage of time went different for the others in this world. Briefly, he wonders how much time has passed in his world, but that is a bridge he’ll cross when he gets to it.

The pulsing grows stronger, and he realizes it’s a headache. He tries to say something, maybe ask for whatever pain medication this world has, but as soon as he opens his mouth he gags. Swiftly he shuts it again, but he feels too weak to sit up. When he taps the maid, his hands are trembling.

Shit. What the hell is this?

Just as he feels the urge to hurl, the maid quickly retrieves a bucket and pushes him up.

He coughs and gags and feels very, very miserable. His limbs are too heavy, and the cold seeps into his body, grabbing his bones and shaking them viciously. Once, twice, and once more he jerks forward into the bucket, but there’s only searing in his throat.

The maid rubs his back, and he tries to use that as an anchor to control himself. When the nausea subsides, the bucket is empty.

“You have not been able to keep anything down.” She says to Shouto’s glazed eyes, though he himself is unaware of it.

Her voice and the ghosts of music and the pounding his head make him want to claw something, or scream. But he does neither, and instead welcomes the darkness seeping into the edges of his vision.

“Rest.” The maid says, laying him back down.

So he does.

Morning brings open curtains and soft sunlight and gentle flurries floating down from the sky to coat everything in a blinding white blanket. It brings an aching, but significantly better Shouto, and a relieved, but guilty cat. It brings one smiling maid, two bright siblings, and three discoveries.

The king hides things. Things like Touya and Shouto. Also, Shouto’s being poisoned.

The realization comes while Natsuo and Fuyumi are recounting the events of last night’s ball.

His sister glows as she chatters, and Shouto wonders just what primping and pampering is going on behind the scenes to get her to look like this. She could be on par with models and beauty-famous heroes like Uwabami or Midnight. Not that Shouto knew much about things like that, but it is a tad uncanny to see his homely sister dressed up.

Natsuo is wearing the neatest clothes Shouto has ever seen on him, considering his brother had only worn variations of joggers and sweat shirts in their limited interactions. Unbelievably, he wears it well. They both do. There’s royalty in their posture, in a way one could only be when they knew they were of high status and had people at their beck and call. Shouto suspects that even if his siblings were to wear their normal clothes, they would still have the presence of nobility. Though Endeavor is quite wealthy, the Fuyumi and Natsuo of his world never had this grace.

There must be more weight, Shouto considers, in the titles ‘Prince’ and ‘Princess’ than I thought.

“Yeah yeah, it was fancy and all.” Natsuo scoffs, rolling his eyes. His attitude has grown, along with his size. Shouto can tell that he’ll be taller than Touya. “But are we just gonna ignore the old bastard’s lovely mood-setting announcement.”

“What?” Shouto asks. Fuyumi suddenly dims, and Shouto resists the urge to glare at Natsuo for causing that. His brother would have a point – he always does.

“Language, Natsuo. I-It’s just… People wondered why some of the family wasn’t there.”

He’d guessed as much. “And?”

“And then Father decided to start off his daughter’s special night by putting a bounty on his son’s head.” Natsuo butts in before Fuyumi can say anything more.

“It was not a bounty.” Fuyumi gives him a Look.

“Not a bounty my ass, he decides to finally let the world know Touya is missing on your debutante, of all occasions” Natsuo sneers back. “Oh no, but the obedient little princess doesn’t mind that he’s ruined her birthday, even if it was to announce that whoever drags Touya back here gets their weight’s worth in gold, and then some.”

Fuyumi flinches, but her eyes harden. “I’m not so superficial as to get upset over a ruined debutante if it means there are more people out looking for Touya.”

“Yeah, people who don’t give a shit about him.”

Shouto’s head whips side to side, observing their back and forth. He swallows back his own rising bitter emotions at watching his siblings feud over something that is neither of their faults. He can’t help the downturn of his mouth however, and Shouto internally curses this body’s looser facial muscles. He wrings his hands under the blanket in an attempt to wrestle his face back under control, despite his inner unrest.

Hadn’t it been only a few days ago they were giggling and smiling with each other? Perhaps he is witnessing years of gradual tension. How odd it is, to experience such changes immediately. It messes with one’s head.

Fuyumi scowls and opens her mouth, possibly to chide Natsuo on his language again, so Shouto decides to cut in.

“Um, why does everyone know now?”

And though the tension between the older two breaks, it is only because they both send Shouto pitying glances.

“Oh Shouto, I’m sorry. I forgot you haven’t heard.” Fuyumi whispers, and Shouto stills as she reaches out to push his sweaty bangs off his forehead. It’s long enough now to be tucked behind his ears, which Fuyumi does. Then she wavers, and pulls it loose again.

“Father encountered Touya. Don’t get excited!” She says swiftly, and Shouto closes his mouth.

“He lost him again just as quick. We only know this because someone,” She turns to Natsuo, this Look more exasperated, “was eavesdropping on the Vice-Captain of the Royal Guard.”

“If I hadn’t we never would’ve found out!” Natsuo exclaims.

Shouto nods, backing him up. “It’s not his fault, Fuyumi. It runs in the family.”

She looks at him weirdly, but doesn’t comment. Somewhere underneath, Shouto hears the cat snort.

So the king had hidden Touya’s disappearance, but upon running into their eldest brother had decided to make it public?

“He’s swallowed his pride.” Shouto murmurs. What had Touya said? Done?

“As if anyone could swallow something that big.” Natsuo sniggers, “I wish he’d choked on it.”

“Natsu.” Fuyumi warns, gesturing to Shouto. Natsuo winks at him, not that the Third Prince understood. Fuyumi says something about informing their mother of his behaviour, and Natsuo nearly stumbles off Shouto’s bed in alarm. They begin squabbling over petty things they could tell on each other for, and this kind of arguing isn’t uncomfortable like before. Shouto turns to see how much longer it would take the maid to set up his meal.

She’d told him earlier that he’d be alright to get out of bed after eating something, since his fever had let up. Though her back is mostly turned to them, Shouto catches a glimpse of her hands fidgeting with a glass of water. He watches, curious, as she uncaps a small vial of something and dumps it in.

Ah. Shouto blinks, and the vial is gone. The maid cups the sides of the tray and turns to Shouto. Smiling, she places it in his lap.

The water doesn’t look any different. He wouldn’t have ever realized.

Natsuo and Fuyumi glance at her, then wave and tell Shouto that they’ll leave him to eat in peace. They mention going to update Mother next, and Shouto is surprised – and perhaps a little touched – that they’d come to him first.

When the door closes after them, Shouto raises his glass of water and sniffs.

Acetic acid. There’s the faintest scent of vinegar, that he wouldn’t have noticed without actively looking – smelling? He recalls from a medical lesson that there were drugs that produced this scent after oxidizing… were they for seizures? It’s frustrating that he can’t quite recall it at the moment, but then again who knew how reliable his world’s information would be here.

Medicine. It’s probably just another form of medication. It’s his maid. She would never. She would never. He should just drop it, he’s being paranoid.

“Is there something in this water?” Shouto asks.

The maid freezes.

“So you found out.” She says sheepishly. “It’s… another form of medication.”

‘I’ve never seen one like that before.’ The cat pipes up, and Shouto wills himself not to react. ‘To help with mana suppression, the doctor recommended all solid medication. Powders and the like.’

“Why hide it?” Shouto asks, turning this information around in his mind. The cat is probably right, since she tended to be more lucid than him right after jumps.

The maid glances away. She’s biting her lip, a myriad of emotions flickering in her eyes. Shouto grips the glass in his hand tighter. Finally, she straightens up, and so does the conflict in her mind it seems.

“I am not allowed to tell you this, Young Prince, but before the princess’s first debutante night I was told to discreetly give you a new form of medication that would prevent any fevers beforehand. It… clearly did not work. You weren’t to know since I was told your mana automatically flares up when you know you’re about to take your medicine, as has been unconsciously conditioned. This medicine requires that your mana be completely stable.”

‘Wow’ The cat says. ‘What a load of bull.’

Indeed. It sounded like how Shouto had tried to explain his reasoning for training.

“Did the doctor give it?”

“Well, not the usual one. This is very sophisticated medication, so it was prescribed by the king’s personal doctor himself.” The maid’s excitement rises at the end of the sentence, like the fact that the king had sent his own doctor means something spectacular. Shouto is inclined to see it as suspicious instead.

“Is that so.” Shouto responds when the prolonged silence makes the maid shifty. He tries smiling to reassure her that he isn’t upset, hoping he looks kind like Midoriya and not unhinged like Bakugou. His muscles ease into it much more smoothly than he’d expected.

‘You- You’re being poisoned!’ The cat hisses, sounding more distressed than Shouto himself. ‘Why are you smiling?!’

“Drugged.” Shouto corrects quietly, once the maid has taken back the glass of water to replace with a fresh one. “Well, I suppose if I overdosed, or took it one too many times, it would most likely be severe.”

‘Real doctors don’t poison.'  The cat continues, ignoring him. Shouto sighs.

“Father’s doctor… they are a person loyal to him. They always have been.”

Always quiet, always obedient. They never flinched, never waivered, even if their patient was a child with more bruises than skin, who lost more blood than baby teeth. They never said anything, because Father made sure they didn’t. Because Father has a power more dangerous than his flames or fists:

The power to hide.

“He’s hiding me.” The realization comes like a splash of cold water to the face. “It’s a fever-inducing drug. He’s making me sick on purpose. So I can’t go to the ball.”

He’s hiding me.

‘What kind of backwards logic is that?’  The cat demands. ‘I thought he hated having a sickly prince. Why would he–’

“Because Father hates things in halves.” Shouto snaps. The cat falls silent.

Shouto bites his lip, a habit his father had beaten out of him in his world. He’d forgotten, that the cat is technically a civilian. And with everything she seemed to know about Shouto already, he has no doubt she is also aware of… who exactly his father is.

Yet she’d said nothing, questioned nothing after all this time. Could she be chalking up the flake on Endea- the king, to a different reality?

But the furrow of her brow shows understanding, and Shouto feels his tightened throat relax.

“As it stands, I am too weak to show and not weak enough to hide. Because I’ve established this weakness myself, I made sure I was just feeble enough to be completely out of the question as an heir. But because I’m not actually sickly, I would be strong enough to attend public affairs.”

Shouto meets the cat’s eyes. “For him, I am an irritatingly half-assed existence.”

‘And so he tipped the scale in one direction.’  She murmurs.

Shouto nods. The maid returns just then, with a new glass. He sniffs it.

Clean.

The maid’s face is tight, so Shouto takes a meaningful sip before turning to her.

“Tell the doctor I’ve been taking the medicine.”

The maid startles. “P-Pardon?”

“Even if I try it again, I don’t think it’ll work for me, so there’s no point in giving me anymore. But,” Well, she is rather gullible. “The doctor would be offended if he knew his… suggestion didn’t work.”

The maid wrinkles her nose. “Offended?”

“Very.” Shouto says seriously, scarfing down his breakfast. Fevers made one hungry. “They might even quit. And then what would Father say?”

The maid gasps quietly, then nods firmly with determination twinkling in her eyes. “I understand, Young Prince.”

No, he doesn’t think she did. But her misunderstandings always give him leeway, so what’s one more?

Actually, make that two: “Also, I’m still feeling sick. I don’t think I can make it to the second night of the ball either.”

Shouto drops his spoon in his half-eaten bowl and flops back onto his pillows to emphasize his point. The sudden motion really does result in his head throbbing and a sharp pain poking into his… back?

Had he accidentally fallen on the cat? Shouto digs under his pillows as the maid cleans his leftovers, and grips something hard. He pulls it out.

It’s Touya’s journal.

I… don’t remember keeping this here.

‘Didn’t you shove that behind the mattress?’

He had, in the little gap between the mattress and the backboard. How had it come loose?

“Oh, that book!”

Shouto isn’t proud of the way he jumps, dropping the journal in the process. It tumbles off the bed. The maid bends to pick it up.

“My apologies Young Prince, but you should know that under your pillows is not the best hiding place.” She giggles, dusting the cover off and handing it back to Shouto. “I have known about you holding onto this for a long time. It belonged to the First Prince, right? I am sure he would not mind, seeing as you two were always doodling in it together.”

Shouto’s face burns. It’s one thing to be treated as a child, and another to actually behave like one. Perhaps after all this time as a child he’d grown a bit naïve.

At least he wouldn’t need to worry bout reading the book secretly anymore since it was just full of… doodles.

Doodles?

He’d been hoping for some insight on Touya’s escape but thinking back–

“Shou look. It’s a potato.”

The prince’s eye twitches. Touya who didn’t take notes, Touya who never paid attention in class, Touya who thought lumpy circles with squiggly lines were funny. Of course he wouldn’t bother making a plan.

Shouto lets out a world weary sigh that has his maid looking over in worry. “Young Prince? Is it your head?”

“… Sure.”

The maid bites her lip, and Shouto wonders if his habit of doing the same had actually come from being around her. “Since I cannot ask the doctors, I can… I know the Royal Commander’s son has headaches sometimes…”

She trails off into mumbles that painfully remind the prince of Midoriya. Then the maid bows, states that she’ll return soon, and leaves the room.

‘Hey… Let’s check the book.’ The cat says, slinking under his left arm.

Shouto shakes his head, flicking the cover. “I don’t think–”

‘Just try it.’ She insists, eyes narrowed. ‘I… have a feeling about something.’

He shrugs, figuring why not. So Shouto opens up to the first page, and is met with scribbles.

What? He quickly turns to the next, and there are more. And on the next and the next and the next–

Shouto starts skimming though the pages, the scribbles getting darker, some even tearing through the page. He’s almost afraid to keep going. The lines get sharper, more erratic, and he can feel his heart pounding louder and louder.

Until a blank page leaps out at him. His heart stills, and he carefully opens the book on it. Upon doing so, he finds it isn’t exactly blank. There’s a single line, written in the middle:

Are you ok?

It’s definitely by a child, written in a weird mix of hiragana… and kanji? It’s clumsy, like their hand couldn’t match what their brain wanted.

‘Is that… Japanese?’ The cat asks in astonishment. ‘No way, so it’s true…’

Shouto doesn’t bother responding. He was under the assumption Japanese was the language of this world. No, that’s not it. He hadn’t even thought about something like what language they speak here. He flips to the next page. It’s much less empty.

Yes. It says at the top, in amateur handwriting. Each individual stroke looked very deliberate, like the writer was not used to the language. And then the rest of the next few pages are covered in hiragana, with a few odd symbols mixed in. It’s looks like a practice sheet from primary school.

Shouto skips past these, glancing at the door.

Now we can write secret letters! It says at the top. There’s a response, underneath.

I do not know, I am bad with this already.

Not ‘already’, it’s ‘still’. Don’t worry, you’re amazing Touya, you learnt so quickly.

Shouto sucks in a breath, sharing a look with the cat.

I do not want hear from person that made new speak.

‘Language’, not ‘speak’. I told you already, I didn’t make it up. The other one knows how, so I got it from him.

What is “other”?

It’s _____

Shouto wrinkles his nose at the odd symbols. Could that be… another language? This world’s language?

He reads through the next page too, and the ones after, but it’s more meaningless conversation. The are frequent mentions of this ‘other one’, but neither party elaborates. As they write their handwriting and vocabulary improves, with some random and confusing additions of kanji.

I mixed up the book with another one yesterday.

You should write your name on it, onii-chan. On the other side of the cover.

____, why I did not think of that?

What’s ____?

Wait no, do not write that again.

Why?

Just do not.

Should I ask Fuyumi?

NO!

Shouto flips back to the cover. Sure enough, Touya’s dramatic signing reads in Japanese kanji.

And then the exchanges suddenly stop. After a goofy back and forth over lizard tongues, the rest of the page is blank. Shouto quickly turns it to see if there’s anything more.

There is.

Shouto,

I need to go.

Bye.

Shouto blinks. This was Touya’s last message… to Shouto. Because Touya and Shouto had not been doodling – they’d been communicating secretly through a journal exchange.

“They don’t speak Japanese here.” Shouto mutters, clenching the page.

‘The quirk only includes verbal communication.’  The cat whispers.

Shouto flips the page once more. There, written neatly some time in the last two years:

Hello. If you see this, can you tell me what’s going on?

I have a lot of questions, other me.

“An Analysis on the Factors Contributing to Cracker Discrimination,” Shouto recites.

“Creature discrimination,” Fuyumi corrects, tapping the papers into a neat pile.

“You forgot the, ‘in Endeavor’.”

“Shouto,” she sighs, groaning as she stretches out of her chair. “You know I can’t say that.”

“Why? It’s your paper.”

“My paper that I’m submitting to the Endeavorian Scholar’s Association. They’ll already be skeptical of my paper just by the title, no need to antagonize them.”

“That’s suppression of speech.” Shouto states, lifting a paper to peek under. He can’t understand a word, even if he can somewhat recognize the letters individually. He wouldn’t even know what this essay is about had he not heard Fuyumi muttering under her breath. “According to Clause 27 of the Charter of Citizen Rights, you can sue them. Or just have them beheaded, since you’re the princess.”

“Honestly, where do you learn such things?”

From himself, actually. The cat and Shouto had conducted a little experiment, in which Shouto had written back to… well, himself. Then he manipulated his vasovagal response and made himself pass out. The cat jumped him to a day later, and voila: the other Shouto had written back.

So I’m not crazy then. And you don’t need to write to me, if you say it out loud, I’ll remember.

It was a rather unnerving experience.

The other Shouto, this world’s Shouto, had known all along about his existence. The cat revealed that normally this sharing of memories was the other way around. Shouto wonders how much more she’s keeping from him, or if she truly is just as confused as Shouto.

They’d communicated back and forth a few more times in a similar manner, until Shouto had faced a bout of dizziness as a result of just sitting up. He then realized constantly messing with his own blood pressure while on unknown medication was not the best idea, and wrote a list of instructions for the other Shouto to do during the next three years.

So now, at 11 years old, Shouto is lounging in the library with his sister and reading the notes written diligently in Touya’s journal. The cat is sitting in his lap, because according to the other Shouto, she no longer required to hide. Apparently, he’d befriended the other version of the cat, and been quite open about it too.

Other Shouto is quite strange. He’s exceedingly knowledgeable about the inner workings of the palace, including the secret passages, and he knows almost too many things for how young he is.

And then on the other hand, he’ll ask something like How does one buy an item from a shop?

Shouto wonders if this is how he comes across to his friends. He runs a hand through his hair, startling when it loosens something. Thin strands of red and white fall across his neck.

“Oh Shouto, come here, I’ll fix it. You’re being oddly clumsy today.”

Fuyumi drops something in his lap and comes to him instead. He picks the thing – an envelope – up, but can’t quite focus on it as he relaxes into Fuyumi’s soothing tugs. He decides he very much likes it when people play with his hair.

‘How specific.’  The cat leaps onto the table, and for a second Shouto wonders if she’s reading his thoughts. ‘Your maid did that exact hairstyle this morning.’

Fuyumi clucks her tongue. “How many times do I need to tell you to stop bringing that cat everywhere. There’s a reason the rumours have expanded to you hanging out with the dead.”

“They have?” His reputation is getting quite amazing.

Fuyumi exhales lowly. “I know you find the rumours interesting, but please, be more self-aware. For Touya’s sake?”

‘There’s a superstition that cats host ghosts.’  The cat offers. ‘A few people have made a weird hand sign when they see me, most likely meant to ward off evil.’

“Do they think she’s Touya-nii’s ghost?” The prince muses. Fuyumi slaps him lightly on the head.

“Stop that, he’s not dead.”

Shouto frowns as his sister pulls a chunk of red and a chunk of white over his ears a little harshly. She taps his cheek after tying it in a little tail, over the rest of his hair left open.

“Why didn’t you just tie it all back?”

“Because it looks nicer like this.” Fuyumi grabs the envelope from his lap and tears it open. “I was waiting for you to before reading this. It’s from Natsuo.”

She unfolds the letter, scanning the contents. She giggles a few times, then hands it to Shouto. “As reluctant as he is, he’ll be coming home next month.”

Shouto eyes the strange symbols. He recognizes the letters due to an attempt from other Shouto to teach him, but there was only so much communicating through notes could do. He has no clue what Natsuo wrote.

“Yay.” He declares, handing the letter back.

Fuyumi folds it up again and slips it back into the envelope. “Oh cheer up, I’m sure you’ll be able to attend at least one night this time.”

Definitely not. Is what Shouto thinks.

“Maybe.” Is what Shouto says.

A ball meant his father sending drugs, which meant he needed to stay in bed and pretend to be sick because of them. Fuyumi said ‘at least’, which implied there would be multiple…

Shouto does some quick math in his head. “Natsuo’s debutante, right?”

Fuyumi snickers. “Beautillion. You know debutante’s are for girls, don’t tease him.”

There are some odd rules in this world. Shouto glances at the cat.

‘Yes, you’ll probably need to go through at least one or two nights of your beautillion.’ She confirms, tail flicking lazily. ‘The jumps will time out to you ‘turning on’ around your 16^th birthday.’

“Ah, then that means…”

The prince winces. As much as he wanted to witness one of these balls, he’d really rather not if he had to… participate in the festivities.

Fuyumi notices, and rolls her eyes. “You will need to socialize. With the way you roam the palace halls, rarely seen and even more rarely talked too, you’re almost a ghost yourself.”

Shouto roams through the halls.

He turns right, then surveys his surroundings consideringly. It’d been a while since he’d last allowed himself the pleasure of examining the beautiful oil paintings adorning the walls of this hallway in particular.

Ah. The prince gazes at the yellow fields of one large one. The dragon soaring through the clouds above has proper anatomy, showing the painter’s solid grasp of form.

A masterpiece like this is wasted in such a place. He sighs internally. It truly is a gem, among the flabby people and oddly warped creatures that made up the rest of the gallery. Why, he may even be as bold as to claim it on par with the artworks from the other world.

Suddenly, his friend leaps forward, scratching at the wall under the painting.

“Oh.” Shouto strides up beside her. She looks up at him with big hazel eyes that stand out against her dark fur. The prince grasps the painting frame with both hands. A little more clumsily than his counterpart would’ve, he allows the cold to curl out of his core and seep into his hands. A second later, an entrance opens up.

“Well done, my friend.” Shouto smiles gently.

Meow. She responds.

Shouto slides out the journal as they enter the secret passage. He flips to the map, pen poised. The red feather seems bright in the darkness, and the prince thinks of a hawk.

He has never seen a hawk before, and doesn’t know why he had such a musing. That alone tells him where – or rather, who – the thought came from.

Once he’s entered the main hall, Shouto references his map, but he isn’t quite sure where to place this path. Perhaps he should go through the entire map again. He doubts too much has changed, but it’s important to keep it up-to-date.

He slips into the entrance across. Upon exiting, the prince finds himself in the audience room. Specifically, right behind his father’s throne.

“Ah, so we are in the East. Since I just came from around the South, that hallway would be just about… Here.” Shouto hums, sketching in the new addition. He’s just about to leave back through the way he came, when the booming voice of the king himself sounds from the very throne the prince is crouching behind.

“No.”

His friend hisses quietly, motioning towards the closing entrance. Shouto makes a shushing motion. She cocks her head in confusion.

“I want to hear. After all, 'it runs in the family'.” He winks, then sidles up against the back of the throne. The best place to be, because his father never looks back.

How curious. If it were Shouto, that would be where he would check most often, since a hidden attack is never done where one can see.

“There will be no beautillion.”

Oh, Shouto thinks. Poor Natsuo.

“Y-Your word is law, Your Majesty, but i-is it not tradition to celebrate a royal child’s debut into high society–”

“I said no. Shouto will not have a beautillion.”

Oh, Shouto thinks. Good for you, Natsuo.

“May I so bold as to a-ask why, Your Majesty?”

The king’s response has Shouto stiffening. His knuckles turn white from how tight he’s clutching the journal.

The prince remains hidden in the shadow of the throne, even after the king and his advisor have left. Shakily, he opens to a fresh page. He prays and hopes and prays once more that the other would not jump too far. That he would see this, early enough:

YOU NEED TO LEAVE.

Chapter Text

“Do you know where it is? The place I call home?”

His head throbs. His face burns. His legs tremble. However unlike 8 years ago, they successfully support his weight. Shouto tenses as a violent shiver wracks his body, but he doesn’t make a sound.

Pounding footsteps, growing louder and closer and louder.

‘So all that preparation amounts to this.’ The cat breathes out, pressing against Shouto’s chest. She’s all the more visible against the blinding blue of his uncomfortable tunic, but he can’t make himself let go of her. If it came to it, he would. He would make sure he let go, because even if he couldn’t get away she could.

‘Seriously… What rotten luck.’

Shouto is inclined to agree.

YOU NEED TO LEAVE.

‘What a lovely message to wake up to.’  The cat remarks, stretching lazily. ‘Sometimes I wonder if the prince truly is just a glorified ghost. Say, is that ink or blood?’

“I take it you were listening to gossip while I was still unconscious.” Shouto yawns. He refocuses on the message, massaging his forehead to ease his headache. “This seems serious. He’s usually very calm.”

‘He’s also 14. They’re melodramatic at that age.’

Shouto raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like something a 14-year-old would say.”

‘… As if you would know anything about normal teenagers.’ The cat replies sourly, but she plops into his lap to get a better view of the journal, so Shouto knows there’s no hard feelings.

“’Father has decided I will not have a beautillion.’” Shouto reads out loud. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Do you think the prince was looking forward to it?”

‘Unexpectedly you’re the type to make comments while reading.’  The cat groans. ‘Hurry up and read the whole thing first.’

“Sorry.” Shouto glances at the door, then tucks his long bangs behind his ears and leans forward. The words are written hastily, with stray lines and blotches of ink. There’s a clear trailing off, and the prince picks up again on the line below with stiff, but much neater handwriting. Like he’d realized no matter how fast he wrote, he couldn’t control when his message would be read.

Loathe as I am to admit it, I have absolutely no power in the wills and whims of my father. Should he choose to isolate me in a foreign tower, or even decide on more extreme measures, I can with full confidence say that he will do it quicky and well.

Shouto lets the last line echo in his head.

I can say with full confidence he will do it quickly and well.

He will do it quickly and well.

Quickly and well.

Father is good at hiding things.

“Oh.” Shouto breathes out, quickly flipping to the next page. “Oh no.”

The prince goes into further details, about where and what and how. He doesn’t mention why – he doesn’t need to. And as for when:

I can only hope you see this before I come of age.

Change of plans. As soon as you see this, you need to leave. I have no inkling of when Father will send me away, but today for the first time in over 10 years he has come to see my face.

I can almost guarantee the next time will be the last.

The last.

Huh.

Already?

The distant sound of ripping lets Shouto know that he’s clenching the page too hard.

No, not already. He admonishes himself. You were going to leave anyway.

“We were going to leave anyway.” He tells the cat. Her eyes don’t leave the page.

‘Shouto-san,’  She says, ‘Start packing.’

Shouto straightens, head throbbing in retaliation. But he doesn’t leave the soft warmth of the blankets. Not yet.

‘Shouto-san,’  Though he’s taller, when the cat turns to him, it feels like she’s looking down. ‘You don’t belong here.’

No.

He does not.

Shouto grips the edge of his covers and pulls them off completely. They end up tumbling to the ground, and the sudden loss of heat has shivers tearing down lightly muscled arms. He stands on slightly shaky legs, and combs back nearly shoulder length hair with a soft hand, away from a scar-free face.

Todoroki Shouto does not stall in bed. Todoroki Shouto gets up and helps his friends.

When did he forget that?

“We need to pack some essentials.” He declares, letting purpose fill his body as he digs out the journal. “First, we need–”

Knock knock!

The rest of the sentence dies in his mouth. Shouto and the cat turn to the door.

“Young Prince?”

The boy makes to answer his maid, but the cat nips his fingers and he hisses instead. Right, it would be best to leave without anyone’s knowledge. Still, he’ll just go through the usual post-fever routine and then after–

“I apologize for the disruption,” Her voice is strained. Urgent. “But you have been… called, for an audience.”

Shouto stills.

“With the king.”

Huh.

‘Already?!’  The cat shrieks.

“Well,” Shouto whispers. “No time like the present.”

“Young Prince?”

Shouto scrambles towards the window, the only other exit in this room. He silently yanks the curtains out of the way, then falters. Thick metal bars stood like soldiers, blocking his way.

“I forgot about these!” He grunts, heating up his hands to bend the metal. Why are these bars still here? He’s not six and crawling out windows anymore… current situation aside.

Perhaps Touya has made everyone exceedingly wary. He guesses, rubbing his clammy hands. This is taking too long, maybe he’ll go directly for fire. Shouto flicks his wrist, bracing for a potential blaze.

Nothing happens.

He flicks it again, reaching for the spark.

‘The medicine!’  The cat reminds, pawing at the latch. ‘Freeze it instead.’

Shouto curses internally, tensing when the maid calls once more. Why are all these restrictions coming back to bite them now?

“Breaking metal requires extreme temperatures.” He mumbles. As a hero, he never thought he’d be on this side of the bars. “Without my left side, I’ll break my hands first.”

Knock knock!

“Young Prince, is everything all right? I’m coming in.”

Shit. Shouto whips around as the doorknob squeaks and turns.

The maid opens the door hesitantly, because her young prince is a grown boy now and she doesn’t want to invade his privacy. Then she freezes in shock.

“Wha- Young Prince?!”

The bed is unkept, covers pulled back hastily. Some are even in a pile on the floor. Her eyes follow the mess to the window, where the curtains are already open, though it is normally her job to do so before the prince wakes up.

The latch on the window is… unlocked, leaving the glass panes wide open. The wind whistles through the black bars, carrying with it vivid summer leaves. They flutter with the curtains in a quick dance before settling onto the ground in the spotlight created by the morning sun.

The third prince is nowhere in sight.

That– He’s still recovering from his fever! She races to the window, momentum nearly pushing her face-first into the safety bars when she stops at the ledge. She reaches out to close the windows, because what if pollen came in? The third prince didn’t need summer allergies on top of his sickness!

She’s almost re-latches it, but hesitates. There’s no way for him to have left out the window. He hasn’t done anything so reckless since he was a small child! But still…

The tree branch is empty. She scans the garden below, stretching a bit to get a view of either side of the tree. Right of course he isn’t–

She checks directly under the window sill.

Empty.

Right. Of course. He isn’t there. Still, she can’t help but worry. Had he opened the window for some fresh air? Perhaps he’d felt overheated, though his temperature had gone down. And most importantly…

Where is he?

Could someone have– no, that’s ridiculous. There are about as many people out for the third prince as there are those who believe the first prince is still alive. That is to say, definitely not many.

But he is still royalty. If anything, wouldn’t he be the easiest to kidnap? Actually, the more she thinks about it, isn’t the young prince the perfect target? Sick, not well protected…

No, no, the safety bars are still firmly in place. If the third prince couldn’t get out, there’s no way anyone could–

What if their mana manifestation gives them the ability to bend metal.

As she talks herself down once more (because the young prince has always been a wanderer), she turns to the bed, hands automatically going through the motions to fix the sheets. She flaps the comforter sharply, and a thud jerks her out of her head.

A journal lay knocked open on the ground.

He never goes anywhere without his journal.

Her heart thumps loudly in her chest. Once. Twice.

“I-Intruder.” The maid stammers.

“There’s an intruder! Someone has kidnapped the prince!”

She bangs the door open, skirt swishing around her ankles, and rushes out.

The room is filled with nothing but the soft rustling of the curtains for one, two, three moments. Another breeze carries a fresh batch of leaves which twirl and dip until they are laid to rest beside their comrades.

Then the wardrobe door cracks open slowly.

‘I can’t believe you forgot the journal.’

Shouto wants to point out that the cat was the one who had panicked and dived into the wardrobe, leaving Shouto to rush after her. Instead, he steps out of the embrace of his clothing, pulling a pair of trousers with him. He yanks it on and throws off his nightshirt to find something more suitable now that he has the chance.

“So many buttons…” Shouto digs through the once neatly arranged outfits, looking for one he can actually wear. “I should’ve paid more attention to how the maid dressed me…”

‘Are you actually a princess? Why are you taking so long?!’

“You sound like Natsuo.” The boy grumbles, finally tugging on a royal blue tunic that has only one row of straightforward buttons. He does up the gold fasteners sloppily, already regretting his choice. The fabric is stiff and scratchy on his chest, and why did the designer decide to remove the sleeves?

‘Blue is one of the royal colours.’ The cat comments, peeking out the door. With the coast clear, she bounds ahead towards the nearest hidden entrance. Once they were in the secret passages, they were pretty much safe.

“There weren’t any cloaks since it’s summer, we’ll just get one from the servants quarters.” Shouto reasons, grabbing the journal and a pen. Everything in his wardrobe practically screams “Look at me, I’m a prince!”. Better than a thin nightgown, at least. The tunic may be uncomfortable, but it would certainly be more durable.

It’s odd that the servants would probably have a cloak, and perhaps more comfortable clothes too, even though Shouto is the prince. It can’t be a rich thing, because he and his siblings are fans of comfy sweaters, and Yaoyorozu had once mentioned an ‘incredibly delightful and intriguing experience’ at the thrift store with Uraraka and Tsuyu, where she’d bought some of her favourite outfits.

It must be a ‘royal’ thing then. The boy muses, jogging to catch up to the cat. Did royalty not focus on practicality? Did that apply to usage as well, because it would be in-line for royalty to easily collect and discard things. Had the prince ever worn the same clothes twice?

Not that anyone except the maid would ever know. He figures. Then he almost trips over the cat.

‘No good!’  She sighs, doubling back the way they came. ‘Can’t use the entrance in the old playroom, there’re people there.’

“Cleaning now?” Shouto glances towards the now unused room, just in time to see a servant rush out. Immediately he ducks behind one of the thick pillars bordering the hall.

Two seconds later, another runs in. Their movements are frantic, but expressions determined.

‘They’re looking for you.’ The cat sneers. Shouto winces internally, sprinting after her. So much for leaving quietly.

“We’ll be safe once we enter the hidden passages.” He assures, opening the journal and flipping to the map. “There should be another entrance down this hall…!”

They nearly miss the painting. He activates his mana and they tumble through, just as another servant scurries past.

Oof. Shouto grimaces as he crashes face-first into the stone floor.

Agh! He lurches as the cat rams into his lower back, sending a jolt of pain up his spine. Why is she so heavy?

“Why are you so heavy?”

‘Shut up.’  She groans. ‘The heck are you wearing, it’s so uncomfortable.’

Shouto nods in agreement not getting up. After that back and forth, it feels like he’s about to throw his heart up. Funny, why does it feel worse after he’s stopped running?

“Is this what it’s like to be unfit?” He wonders out loud.

‘Stop that. Let’s go.’

“Right.” Shouto tucks his arms under his chest and pushes himself up without hesitation, though he feels like lingering on the ground. Such lethargy is easy to overcome when it’s mostly mental.

Then he staggers. His head feels light, and black invades his vision for a long few seconds. He resists bracing himself against the wall – he can’t afford to let this minor fever get the best of him right now.

To think after all the research he – and especially the prince – had done, they’d ended up rushing out like that. Well, perhaps some things required a little impulsiveness.

Except he’s sick, severely unprepared, and leaving the castle means heading out into completely unchartered territory. At the very least he wants some survival and medical supplies. Food would also be nice, but he’s not sure where he could find any that didn’t spoil right away…

Ignoring the burning in his throat and under his skin, Shouto ducks into the main hall. He blinks, swaying in place for a few seconds to gather his bearings. Had the lights on the wall always been this… close? Before they’d felt miles away. Ah, is his brain more fever-addled than he’d thought?

But no. If he reaches up… there, his fingers can brush along the surprisingly cool wood of the torches. Looking down… Aren’t the shadows much further than before?

It’s quite an odd feeling, like revisiting the enormous closet he’d avoided for all of elementary school because he’d accidentally locked himself in, only to open it years later in middle school and wonder how he’d even fit.

“I feel big.” Shouto murmurs.

‘No, you used to feel small.’  The cat snorts, tail flicking as she trails after him. ‘You’re nearly back to your old height now.’

Shouto frowns. How would she know?

“You’ve grown too,” He points out, thinking back to her weight. “You used to be very small and cute. Now you’re fat.”

The cat screeches something unintelligible. It’s a wonder Shouto doesn’t miss the faint echoes of thundering footsteps.

Immediately he grabs the cat and ducks into the nearest entryway. She struggles for a second, then her ears twitch and she stills as well. His heart is pounding so loud he almost convinces himself that’s what he heard, but unfortunately Shouto is quite the expert in detecting footsteps.

The pounding extends to his temple, and Shouto grimaces at the beginnings of a headache. He really doesn’t need this right now, not when there are other people here.

Not when there are other people in the secret passages.

What was going on? Had someone else discovered the passages since he’d last jumped? Why hadn’t the prince told him, had he not known?

Voices accompany what Shouto can only describe as a stampede. Not just one or two, but an large group of people are heading their way. Their words are loud enough to make out, and–

“Twenty to Fuyumi’s room. The rest, spread out in the Firework Formation. Commander with me.”

Voice growling, teeth grinding. The cat shifts uncomfortably in his arms, and Shouto looks down to realize he’s trembling.

“We’re going to smoke this trespasser out.” Todoroki Enji snarls.

Pounding footsteps, growing louder and closer and louder.

He finally breaks, allowing himself to presses against the wall for support, if only to stop the tremors.

‘So all that preparation amounts to this.’  The cat breathes out. ‘Seriously… What rotten luck.’

Shouto is inclined to agree. To think the fake intruder would backfire on them like this. To think the hidden passages he’d been so comfortable in would be…

‘Stupid. So stupid.’  The cat curls up tight enough that Shouto can feel the tenseness of her muscles. ‘Of course the king would know about the secret hallways in his own palace.’

Shouto bites his lip. This was a careless assumption on his part as well. He’d just thought–  He’d just believed–

He’d just seen Touya as this glowing figure. From Natsuo’s words, from Fuyumi’s reminiscing, from their father’s insults. From the way he’d patted Shouto’s head and smiled like there was nothing he didn’t know.

And if Touya had used these passages to get around secretly, then they must’ve been safe, right?

Wrong. What did Shouto know about Touya anyway? He pats heads and smiles sure, but he also doodles in his notebooks. He doesn’t pay attention in his classes, he doesn’t particularly care if he’s late. He’s brave enough to swear at and talk back to their father.

No, that’s not it. What had Fuyumi said?

Sometimes I wished he would just shut up and obey.

Shouto grits his teeth, because Touya wasn’t brave, he was stupid. Constantly dancing on the line, and see where that had gotten him? Twice? And now where is Shouto?

Shouto is here, cowering behind a wall, because of course Touya would use their father’s hidden passages as he pleased. For his own whims. One of them being worrying about Shouto.

His chest constricts, and maybe a part of it is fear, but the rest is something intense that he’d never felt when thinking about Touya before. It’s a little like when he’d found his mother’s old sunhat, in that not-so-enormous closet, years after it had last been worn.

‘Let’s just leave through this hall.’ The cat says softly, though Shouto is the only one who can hear.

They could, except his father is too close, his party too unpredictable. What if a guard has a mana-sensing ability? He’s certain he’s heard a maid talk of mana-related abilities before. Even if he did manage to exit undetected, he can’t be certain where this exit would actually leave him in the palace. He may end up in a worse situation. Out of the frying pan into the fire; though he supposes nothing could burn worse than his father.

So many unknowns, it leaves him frozen as the footsteps seem to ring right beside his ears. Do something, he needs to do something, why won’t his feet move?

‘Shouto-san?!’

Oh, it’s because he’s not on his feet anymore. When had he ended up on the floor? The cold stone is chilling against his bare arms. It’s seeps through his insides, until he’s no longer burning, but freezing. The cat slips out of his arms, and he immediately misses the contact. Though his head, his heart, the feet still pound, it’s muffled, like there’s a layer of frost surrounding him.

Then the pounding stops. The frost recedes. And Shouto looks up to meet piercing eyes.

King Todoroki Enji is a simple conundrum. Or a complex simpleton. Depends on which faction you were a part of: if you supported the king, or the practically dead crown prince, who had become somewhat of a symbol for the anti-loyalists.

“He will return!” They would scream on streets, as guards apprehended them. “He will return and free us from this unholy tyrant!”

Not an ounce of fear. Even as they were shoved and shackled, they continued to shout like people possessed.

As for Mezou Shoji, he is a part of the third prince’s faction.

Not that it exists, but if he could choose, he would follow Prince Todoroki Shouto.

The third prince is an intriguing boy. They’d first met in the sunny training courtyard, each holding a dull wood sword and staring at each other from either side of his dad.

“This here is the third prince. And this here is my son, Mezou Shoji.”

They’d looked each other over. Shoji, to see if the boy really was stitched together like he’d heard, and the third prince… Well, he still doesn’t know what the third prince had been looking for, but he’d smiled something mysterious so Shoji assumes he’d found it.

“You two’ll be training together from now on, so get along, ya hear?”

“Yes. Let’s get along.” Shoji had said.

“Let’s be allies.” The third prince had declared.

Shoji startled, because he didn’t know what ‘ally’ meant, back then. “What’s that?”

The third prince made a pensive face and wiggled his wooden sword in front of him. “It’s like a friend.”

Shoji wrinkled his nose. Normally, he would just let it go if he was confused, but there was something about the prince’s manner that made him interested. Curious.

“Why didn’t you just say friend?” He asked.

The prince slashed his sword, cutting down an imaginary foe.

“Because I am a prince, and you are my future vassal.” He glanced over his shoulder, giving Shoji a hard stare. “You will be my vassal, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Shoji had said without thinking, though he wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t even known what ‘vassal’ meant.

The prince beamed. “Then you are my ally.”

And he had been. He’d helped the prince with training, but also covered for him when he disappeared occasionally. He’d accepted the prince’s odd quirks and behaviours, and resigned himself to going along with them.

“You should wear a cloak.”

“Cloak?” Shoji wiped off their practice swords. Since he’d become a page, his dad had allowed them to begin using dull blades.

“Yes. A hooded one.” The prince said, taking a bite out of his apple. He swung his legs back and forth from where he’d perched on a stack of crates. For a sickly prince, he was quite lively.

“You’ll be a squire in a couple years, which means you’ll be following your father around as part of the guard.” The prince chewed thoughtfully. “It’s about time to think of what adjustments to make to your uniform.”

“It is too early.” Shoji had stated, sheathing his own sword. He handed back the prince’s cleaned one, who nodded in acknowledgement.

“And pardon my rudeness, but a cloak would hinder my movements.”

The prince nodded again. “That’s why you would take it off before fighting.”

Shoji blinked. Because this was the prince, he decided to ask for clarification.

“You have a physical manifestation. One that affects your body.” The prince explained. “So, by hiding your body under a cloak, does it not give you the element of surprise concerning your mana?”

Perhaps, but it would also be an extra step. Regardless, Shoji found himself wearing a hooded cloak on his 14^th birthday, after his transition to squire.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think the prince was getting him to hide his identity.

“I’m going to go missing.” The prince had stated casually, two years before either of them had turned 14. Shoji almost didn’t hear him in the chatter of the party.

“Technically speaking, Your Highness, you are 'missing' right now. Should you not be ‘sick’ in bed at the moment?”

“I told the maid I felt lonely with everyone at Natsuo’s beautillion, so I would be spending time with you.” He smiled, leaning against the marble pillar he was hiding behind. “I never said where.”

Shoji is not quite sure how the prince has managed to keep the maid’s trust, with all his sneaking and scheming, but to ask would mean to ask himself why he trusted the prince so easily as well. So he did not ask, because for that he had no concrete answer, just a feeling of fierce loyalty.

Instead, he questioned something else: “Why are you going missing?”

They watched the dancers spinning and dipping, young maidens giggling on the sides as they waited for a young man to whisk them to the floor. Shoji was not one of them, of course. He was still quite a few years shy of 16, so his participation would not occur until the third prince’s own beautillion. A beautillion that, by the sound of it, would not happen.

“I don’t know when.” The prince admitted, watching the festivities in wonder.

That’s right. Shoji recalled. He tends to get sick around the season for coming-of-age ceremonies. He’s rarely seen them before, let alone a royal one.

The prince blinked slowly, then continued. “It’ll most likely be two years from now, if we're lucky. Four, if we’re unlucky.”

That was awfully vague, and unlike the prince. Shoji felt worry begin to prick his mind.

“I won’t be able to tell you beforehand, but when the time comes you’ll know.” The prince paused to crouch down. When he straightened, the black cat that hung around him was in his arms. He stroked its back fondly.

“Wear your uniform, that day. Aide me, if you must. But don’t get caught.” The prince’s gaze turned sharp. “Because I have a task for you to do here.”

          “Pardon me, Your Highness.” The hooded stranger whispers, scooping Shouto up and speed walking towards the exit.

Shouto’s head spins from the sudden movement. He blinks away the darkness at the edge of his vision, and tries to see under the hood. All he’d noticed were sharp eyes. The voice is deep, but there’s a hint of youth to it that makes Shouto think it’s a boy.

“W-Who–”

“I noticed your friend.” The stranger gestures with his head toward the ground. Shouto lets his own head roll back. He sees the cat weave between the strangers feet.

‘I’m sorry. I just thought I would distract them. Give you some time to get back up.’ She babbles, seemingly in shock. ‘Then he saw me and…’

“We will be exiting somewhere in the West Side.” The stranger announces, stopping in front of the wall. It takes a second for Shouto to realize what he’s waiting for. He presses his hand against the wall, and activates his mana. As they enter a seemingly innocuous hallway, Shouto realizes the error in using his mana while sick, and promptly throws up.

The stranger flinches. He sets Shouto down, and begins rubbing soothing circles on his back. The prince coughs, resisting the urge to spit. At least he doesn’t feel as quite as nauseous as before.

“My apologies, I know you are still recovering, but you need to go now.”  The stranger urges. Through his lightheadedness, Shouto notes something warm settling on his shoulders. Before he can look up, a hood is pulled tight over his head.

“The entrance to the garden is just over there.” The stranger points, not that he needs to. As his head clears, Shouto recognizes this hall.

“I will take care of the mess. Go!”

Shouto tries to turn, to thank him, but he’s pushed outside into the blinding sunlight. By the time he blinks his eyes back open, the stranger is nowhere to be seen.

The sun warms his numb limbs. The rich greenery is a welcome sight after what felt like hours in the dark passages, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Shouto takes a moment to steady himself.

“Who was that?” He rasps, then cringes and clears his throat.

The cat shakes her head, and Shouto frowns. An unknown ally? Of the prince? He should’ve told them that there was someone trustworthy they could depend on.

“I don’t understand him.” Shouto murmurs. The cat grunts.

He folds this tidbit away and stacks it on his growing pile of Miscellaneous Information. He would need to sort through that later and organize it. For now, he examines his surroundings, and just as he thought, this was the place his maid had taken him when he was small.

The gazebo is just ahead, much closer than he remembers, and his feet automatically take him up the not-as-high steps.

‘It’s strange, how different places look once you’re bigger.’ The cat murmurs, and Shouto is struck by how similar her thoughts are to his own.

“You’re not much taller though.” He comments. “Is it because you can’t fit through the railing anymore?”

As the cat hisses, Shouto walks around the gazebo, letting his hand slide against the white stone. There was something here, he remembers. Something he can use…

“The swans!” Shouto leaps down the stairs, and races towards the graceful birds. Sure enough, there’s a perfectly circular pond, glittering and rippling with the birds' every movement. Most importantly, it’s right beside the enormous stone wall between him and freedom.

“This is it.” He breathes. The cat narrows her eyes.

‘What? What are the birds going to do?’

“Not the birds.” Shouto says. He inhales, counts to three, then exhales. He’s going to need to use mana again. And it’s going to be unpleasant.

He tucks the pen into the journal, and the journal under his belt. He tightens it, tugging a few times to make sure it would stay. Then he picks up the cat and steps lightly onto the surface of the water. A thin sheet of ice forms under his feet. He takes another step, surer this time. Abruptly, he stomps his previously made ice step with his free foot, and watches it shatter into pieces. They melt quickly in the warm water. He repeats this process, making and breaking, making and breaking, under he’s wobbling right beside the wall.

The nausea is back, filling his throat with acid. Attempting to reach for his mana makes his head pound, but he only needs one final push.

“I don’t suppose you could lend me mana.” He grumbles, trying to swallow back bile.

‘What?’  The cat startles. ‘I never thought of that.’

Shouto is about to apologize and tell her he was just complaining, when a sudden vigor floods through him. Suddenly, his head feels light, the sun is brighter, and a certain grace seizes his limbs. Immediately he uses this high to catapult himself and the cat with a narrow, but forceful platform of ice.

The pressure causes the platform to collapse into shards, just as he’d planned. The warm water would melt the evidence of his mana, since he couldn’t use his left side to do so.

They just about reach the top of the wall, and Shouto lashes out, clinging onto the edge before they could fall back down. The cat scrambles up his body onto the thick ledge, and after a bit of fumbling, Shouto does as well. He lays there, panting, and then the crash comes.

He hacks and heaves, clutching his furiously aching head. He curls up, and vows never to use mana while sick again. It feels like the cat is scratching up his gut from the inside, and it takes a few moments for him to realize she’s doing it from the outside too.

‘Shouto-san? Shouto-san?’

“W-We made it.” He chokes out, sitting up slowly. “Did you… Can mana do that?”

The cat rubs against him, and he’s grateful for the warmth. Using ice made him tired and cold.

‘I don’t know. I just figured we should try.’  She replies, peering over the edge. ‘Mana is different from quirks, after all.’

“Hm.” Shouto stumbles to his feet, waiting for the dark spots to leave his vision. “We can talk about this later. Right now, we should find a place to rest for a bit.”

The forest on the other side is unexpected, but not unwelcome. It looks thick enough that no one would find them easily, and it also meant that most traffic in and out of the palace was through the main gate, so he didn’t have to worry about running into anyone. Good.

“Good.” Shouto says, swaying on his feet. He huffs, glancing at the palace. “I’m never coming back here again.”

Then, he dives off the edge and into the sea of canopy.   

Chapter Text

“How were you trained?” She asks, picking up a large rock.

He watches the line of ants march into a crack between the sidewalk and wall.

“Why?”

“How did you increase your stats?” She prods, placing the rock in their path.

He observes as the ants fumble for a bit, then make their way around the obstacle.

“Stats.”

“You know.” She says, though he doesn’t. “Stuff like your range. Duration.”

“Range is not a problem for me.” He says.

“And?”

“And… duration is something I’m working on.”

Her eyes glitter. “Working on, huh?”

“Of course.” He frowns. “It’s not like there are any shortcuts.”

She snorts, picking the rock back up. Though there’s nothing there anymore, the ants continue to make a wide arc.

“I wonder about that.”

“Thanks a bunch! There really is a lot of stuff.” Melissa beams, stacking her crates into the back of the wagon. The only reason the sturdy wood frame doesn’t bow under the collective weight of the haphazardly stuffed merchandise is because of the mahogany charms embedded in every corner.

“Ah, it’s really no problem!” He reassures quickly, pushing his own stack of crates into the last bit of empty space. “Afterall, you and your father are kind enough to give me a ride all the way to the capital!”

Said man guffaws. “Think nothing of it, since your mentor and I are old buddies!”

Melissa winks. “Like Dad said, just think of it as a favour between friends.”

His face burns not unpleasantly, and he looks away as he wipes his hands on his trousers. “Ok then.”

The mood is light as they settle beside Melissa’s father. The owner of the wagon chews on her nails, thin eyebrows dragging down.

“You’re sure you know how to drive a wagon, Mister David?”

“Of course, of course!” David assures, picking up the reins. “I’m familiar with all sorts of different modes of transport. Though I must admit,”

His eyes shine with wonder as the large beast at the end of the reins bleats, shaking it’s head like an oversized dog. Its golden fur shines in the sun, and the thick curved horns protruding from it’s woolen head boast of good health and proper grooming.

David shares a grin with his daughter. “This will be my first time on a sphinx-pulled wagon.”

The owner chuckles nervously. “Yes, well, despite how she looks, Hana’s a sweetheart. Just watch your hides.”

The three look to her, and she shifts under their collective gaze. “There’s been a rise in crime ‘round here. Some big group formed near the outskirts of the country. They’ve been gettin’ pretty brave lately, even actin’ out in the capital.”

Melissa’s eyes soften. “Aw, you gave us the biggest and scariest of the lot for a reason, huh? Don’t worry,”

She leans down to clasp one of the owner’s big hands between her own.

“We’ll definitely bring Hana back safe. Plus,” She cheerfully points at the boy sitting beside her father. “If anything goes wrong, we have Deku here to protect us!”

Somewhere, a bird chirps. Its twitters bounce around inside his head until it sounds like there’s a flock of them. Blearily, he opens his eyes, and is awarded with the sight of fuzzy green, peppered with dots of light. He hums, letting the small rays of sun warm his skin.

Then something snaps. The chirping abruptly stops.

“WAAAGH!” Shouto yelps as the branch under him breaks away, leaving him freefalling for a terrifying few seconds. Then he screws his head on straight and snaps his hand out, digging his fingers into the thick grooves. He grits his teeth when he ends up pulling off dead mossy bark instead.

Ice! I need– Shouto desperately reaches into his mana wells, ripping whatever he can out and shoving it through his fingertips.

Solid ice bursts out, clear and strong. Shocked, Shouto yanks his arm back, pulling out an impromptu branch of ice from the side of the tree trunk. He latches onto it, wincing as his momentum jerks his body. He swings there for a moment, letting his adrenaline fizzle out.

‘Good morning.’  The cat says, trotting onto his frozen branch. ‘You look better.’

In her mouth is a dead bird, feathers coated in fresh blood, and Shouto cringes internally at the iron scent. “You… just killed that, didn’t you?”

‘Don’t be a baby. Have you never gone hunting before?’  Shouto heaves himself up onto the branch, then crawls back to the trunk.

“Never. I don’t even have a license for that.” He clambers onto the nearest bough, turning back to face his protrusion of ice. He concentrates, rubbing his hands together to remember what the warmth felt like. Something sparks, but it only lasts a moment before puttering out. Shouto frowns.

‘Still no fire?’  The cat asks, licking her paws clean of blood. ‘Since you're so put off, I don’t know how you expect to eat raw meat.’

The thought of food makes his insides clench painfully. Shouto sighs, chipping off a bit of the ice to suck on. “I didn’t even expect to use ice. My mana must have been replenished… overnight?”

It seems like early morning, Shouto notes with a frown. It had been midday (?) last he was awake. He somewhat expected to pass out after crashing into the trees, but he didn’t think it would be for this long. He also didn’t expect to feel this… refreshed. His head is startlingly clear, and the pale morning light peeking through the lime green canopy has a sense of serenity washing over him.

‘In that case the medicine should be out of your system too.’  The cat points out, plucking feathers off her meal.

 Especially since he’d thrown up his stomach yesterday, and thus hadn’t quite digested that morning’s dose. But though he can now feel the tingling in his core, it remains stubbornly stuck.

Shouto shakes his head, combing a hand through his sweaty hair. He examines their surroundings, taking in the thick trunks and large boughs. Somehow, he can feel something ancient and deep humming in the air, as if the forest is as powerful as it is old. He’d never felt this entrenching mana before, and he almost expects to feel some sort of resistance when he waves his arm. Not suffocating, but an encompassing presence that relaxes a part in the back of his brain that he hadn’t realized was wound tight until it loosened.

‘You’ve got something there.’  The cat motions, unaware of her own blood-covered face. Shouto jolts, rubbing his face to see if she’d splattered any blood on him. The hand that comes into view is not wet or red, but dusty black.

“Wha…” he presses his fingers together, rubbing the chalky blackness. He reaches up with his other hand, but it only comes away with a small smudge. So the substance had come from his hand, not his head. The boy glances up towards where he’d been grasping at the tree. Sure enough, there are black streaks, painting a path towards a blackened stump, crumbling and cracked against the side of the tree.

Then he looks down. Stark against the vibrant grass and plants is a large dead branch, the same chalky noir, as if all the life had been sucked out of it.

“That’s the branch I was resting on.” He notices, and begins shuffling his way down to the forest floor.

The cat picks her meal up, scrambling behind him. ‘Hm. You sure your fire isn’t back?’

Shouto doesn’t respond, dropping the last few metres and rolling to break the fall. He can safely say he is an expert at falling from trees now. The branch lies a few feet away, and he approaches it curiously. The energy – which Shouto is now starting to realize must be mana – exudes from all the greenery around him, but the branch is empty. A husk, without any mana at all.

A lifeless husk. He realizes.

“All the mana has been drained from this branch.” He tells the cat, brushing his already stained hand across its blackened surface. It crumbles further, not quite solid but not quite dust. “Did… I do this?”

‘How?’  The cat snorts, gnawing on her plucked meat. The rawness and blood doesn’t put her off at all. She looks fit and healthy, even though yesterday–

“Yesterday I took your mana. Do you think I did the same to the tree?” He wonders aloud, once again noting his lack of fever and filled wells.

‘No way.’  She mutters. Shouto hears the frown in her voice. ‘I gave you my mana.’

“Hm.” Shouto says, sinking his dusty hand into her similarly coloured fur. He searches for that surge from before, but nothing happens.

“Do what you did yesterday.” He demands, eyebrows knitted. The cat raises an eyebrow, and suddenly Shouto can feel her mana, buzzing through his fingertips. He lets it surge into him, and the familiar rush from earlier is back.

‘S-Stop.’  Immediately her mana closes off, and Shouto can’t access it anymore. He rubs his arms, feeling the curious warmth spread through his limbs until it settles in his core, with his own mana.

‘Are you trying to drain me dead.’  She accuses tiredly, curling into a ball.

“Sorry.” Shouto says, but his mind is busy figuring out what this is. “So then, did the tree give me its mana?”

Even as he says it, Shouto thinks that’s not quite right. Certainly, the plant life around him seems open with its mana in a way the plants in the palace garden were not. Shouto wonders which is normal. The cat had felt similar moments ago when she’d essentially given him permission–

“Perhaps,” Shouto says wiping his hands on the soft grass and letting their mana seep into him until they begin yellowing. Quickly Shouto stubs the flow before they dry out completely. “Can I borrow others’ mana?”

‘Uh, no.’  The cat intones, kicking away the pile of bones left from her meal.  ‘I already told you I gave you–’

“–permission.” Shouto finishes. “I can’t take, but I can borrow.”

‘That’s stupid.’  The cat grumbles, but doesn’t deny. She seems to be digesting this new piece of info dolefully, not that Shouto could blame her. Figuring out the intricacies of this system different than quirks would be a learning curve.

He takes out the journal, thankfully still snug in his belt, and opens to the empty page marked by the pen. He shakes it a few times to loosen the ink.

Could you describe everything you know about mana?

After a moments consideration, he also writes:

I’d also like to know about the person from the palace. Are they an ally?

He closes the book with the pen inside, and tucks it back into his belt. He would need to find a bag of some sort. While he can always ask these things out loud, it is possible they might be forgotten amongst the numerous other experiences and words Shouto would have or speak. Besides, it’s a little less unnerving to write his questions in the journal than ask them out loud and get answers.

Right, none of that information is urgent, so Shouto decides to save communicating with the prince for when the questions pile up. For now…

Shouto stands, rolling his neck. He gently lifts the half-dozing cat, feeling a little bad for draining her, but sure she would be able to sleep it off. He wraps her around his neck and pulls the hood up, then sets off in the opposite direction of the palace, hoping he would come across some form of other civilisation soon. Though, he wonders if that would only be counter-productive, considering his less-than-ordinary appearance.

“Hmm.” Shouto hums, glancing at the blacked branch once more. “Well, better than nothing.”

Benji is an honest man with an honest job as a tailor. His humble shop stands just outside the busiest parts of the shopping district, so he doesn’t quite have rich or noble customers, but much of the working class stop by his place with large smiles and simple demands. It’s a quiet, stable life, that earns more than enough to support a lone, aging man who lives behind the shop. And Benji is glad for that, aspirations from his youth all but faded. He’d learnt that just having enough to eat was a blessing, and aiming for something like recognition for his more ambitious clothing ideas and designs weren’t worth this comfortable life.

At least, this is what he tells himself as his hands hover over his old designs, rough and full of passion. He’d been cleaning out what he’d secretly dubbed his ‘junk drawer’ under the counter, figuring it was about time he sorted through the mess. And there his worn sketchbook was, corners curling.

He should throw it. He’d already decided to throw out unnecessary clutter in order to rid himself of his hoarding habit. He just needs to toss it in the trash box, and then he’d never need to worry about it again. Instead of doing just that, his fingers trace over the painstakingly inked diagrams. He remembers redoing the sketch of this accessory bag over ten times, because the ink kept blotting while he was trying to get that perfect shape which would carry more than it seemed like it could on the outside, yet still attached to the belt. He’d been so obsessed with getting it right, he thinks he even has a prototype somewhere.

But that’s all in the past. He huffs, shutting the book because there is no point dwelling over things that will never be done. He picks it up to toss in the disposable box, and then the front door creaks open.

Benji drops the book on the counter, and comes out from behind it to greet his customer. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t even realized it was late morning now, around the time he could expect customers. He leans past the shelves full of cheaper cloth that housewives would often buy off him to make the clothes themselves, and spots a cloaked figure by the door.

They don’t seem quite grown, but Benji can’t assume their age when they’re all covered up like that. The cloak pools on the floor like ink, clearly much too long for them, and when Benji takes a closer look, he sucks in a breath.

The cloth of the cloak looks plain and black to an ordinary person, but any tailor worth their silver could recognize the high quality of the cut. He’s sure if he ran his hands along it, the cloth would be smooth and flowy like water, but tougher than dragon hide. Yes, he’s almost certain that cloak is made out of the coveted dragonet silk, harvested from the rare creatures that had been captured and held in the caves under the royal palace for the king’s use. Why, he doesn’t think there’s anyway one could get their hands on dragonet silk without being a noble. Which means…

“My Lord… er, Lady?” Oh dear, his first noble customer and he’s already messing up. “I’m, er, my name is Benji Fabbro. May I be of any assistance?”

The noble turns to look at him. They remain silent, and Benji tries to stop himself from fidgeting in the deafening silence. Only now does he notice the messy state of the cloak. It’s streaked with mud and covered with leaves, and Benji silently reprimands himself for only blindly admiring the cloth. Clearly this person had been through something, since they looked like they had crawled through the King’s Guard Forest.

“I think so.”

“Pardon?!” Benji startles, then recalls what he’d asked. The noble steps closer. They whisper something Benji can’t quite catch, then pull down their hood.

“Yes, I would like some assistance.” Comes the soft voice once more, and Benji finds himself face-to-face with a child. An older one, perhaps in his early teens, but a child no less. His chin-length hair is a chalky black that looked like it’d seen better days, and his expression is wary, but there’s no doubt in the regal way the boy holds himself.

A lone noble child covered in dirt. And if that isn’t odd enough, he has a cat, of all creatures, curled around his neck. It’s blacker than the boy’s hair, with vibrant purple eyes that watch him with disturbing clarity. Benji stomps down the ominous feeling curling in his gut, because even if his customer is a suspicious boy with a supernatural creature, he is still a customer.

“Uh, how may I help you?” He asks, failing to suppress the urge to tug at his fingers.

The boy blinks slowly, like he hadn’t considered that part. It would be cute in a child-like way, except his cat blinks at the exact same time. Benji chuckles nervously.

The boy whispers again (to the cat?), then clears his throat.

“I would like you to hem my cloak.” He pauses, then opens said cloak to reveal a deep navy tunic underneath, adorned with intricate designs he would wager were made of gold thread. “And I would like a shirt. A comfortable one.”

If he hadn’t been speechless before, he certainly is now. That tunic reeks of quality only high nobility could afford. Just who is this boy?

He must have stared for too long, because the boy bristles for a moment, whispering something to his cat again. The cat paws his cheek, as if it were communicating back.

“Please.” The boy adds. “And, um, I don’t have any money, but you can have my tunic?”

Benji gapes, and wonders if God had sent him this utterly strange boy, who wore a tunic without an undershirt, to tell him that he shouldn’t give up on his ambitions. With a bit of fixing, he could sell a tunic like that for a hefty price. Surely the boy couldn’t just want a new shirt and a bit of hemming?

Said boy looks extremely uncomfortable. He mumbles something like “It didn’t work”, turning to leave, and Benji nearly leaps out of his skin to stop him.

“W-Wait! That is more than enough! Are you sure all you want is a shirt? A– Something like this is worth its weight in gold!”

Benji pants after his outburst, wondering if he should’ve just taken the tunic without a word. It’s not like he wanted more work, but this was just…

The boy smiles something sweet, but reserved, like he couldn’t quite suppress it. “You’re an honest person.”

The man scratches his cheek and coughs. He wonders why he feels so pleased, being acknowledged by this boy. It feels somewhat like receiving royal praise.

“Right, I have a couple of pre-sewn shirts, if you want to see them.” When the boy nods, he leads him to the counter, and starts shifting through the folded shirts he’d made for general purchase. He would normally have taken measurements and tailored the shirt himself for the boy to pick up later, but something told him this child wouldn’t be coming back.

“Oh.” The boy murmurs, and Benji wonders if it would be considered rude to ask for his name. He glances back consideringly, then winces upon realizing he’d forgotten to move his old sketchbook off the counter. The boy is flipping through the pages, and Benji cringes at how messy his writing looks all of a sudden.

“I apologize for leaving that out. I was cleaning up earlier.” He should’ve just apologized and left it at that. Why would a noble care about what he was doing? Benji swallows tightly, mentally convincing himself that instead of remedying the situation, further explanation would just be unnecessary and annoying.

“Oh.” The boy says again, jerking his hands away, and that small human gesture is enough to untense Benji’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, I thought this was a catalogue.”

The tailor raises an eyebrow, snorting internally. “Catalogue, huh? Is there anything in there you would even want?”

“Yes!” At the exclamation, Benji nearly bumps his head on the back shelf. He watches with wide eyes as the boy quickly backtracks a few pages, pointing earnestly.

“I like the design of this. I’m in need of a bag.”

Lo and behold, there sits the sketch of the accessory bag. The boy meets his eyes diligently, and Benji can’t help but laugh, more boisterously than he had in a while.

“You try this on and set your cloak on the counter. I will be right back.”

He strides through the doorway separating the shop and the house, heading straight to his room to unearth the blotchy box under his bed. He blows the layer of dust off the top, then carefully removes the lid.

The fine leather looks as polished as the day he made it, though the metal fasteners on the belt no longer shone. Nothing a quick wipe couldn’t fix.

Benji emerges back into the shop, just as the boy is tucking the shirt into his trousers. It’s a little loose around the shoulders, but the height seems right. He nods approvingly, and he suspects the cat does too, from where it’s now perched on the counter.

“Here you are.” He tosses the bag over, realizing a little too late how disrespectful that was. Thankfully the boy doesn’t seem to mind, and Benji comes around beside him to make a rough measurement of till where to hem the cloak while pointing out how to put the belt on.

“Pull that tight right over the edge of your trousers there. The buckle should be over your navel.” A noble who struggled wearing a belt. Benji finds it more amusing than bizarre now. He then instructs him to attached the smaller strap at the bottom of the bag around his thigh – an added security he’d put in when considering more active clients – and something warm bubbles in his chest at the sight of someone actually wearing the project he’d abandoned so long ago.

The silence is cozy this time as Benji heads to the back once more to give the cloak a quick wash and fix the height as quick as he can. As he thought, holding the priceless fabric is like holding water. To his delight, tugging it flat makes it toughen. What a marvelous material.

The boy continues flipping through the sketchbook, occasionally whispering to the cat. The few minutes feel much longer, and upon tying the last stich, Benji gives the cloak a sharp flap, dislodging any leftover beads of water.

Waterproof. Benji grins, twisting the finished cloak in his hands. And most likely fireproof too. Truly, amazing.

“Ah, you’re done.” The boy notices, glancing up. He takes the cloak and fastens it, nodding gratefully. Benji smiles. Though his clothes are plainer than before, he somehow seems more refined.

The boy sets his discarded tunic on the counter, pulling out a journal Benji hadn’t noticed before and tucking it into his new bag. He pulls the cat away from the sketchbook, placing it back on his shoulder, and Benji speaks up without thinking.

“You can have it, if you want.”

“What?” The boy blinks, in the middle of pulling the hood on. Benji scratches his cheek.

“The book. You can have it.”

The boy frowns. “I can’t take your catalogue.”

“It ain’t– it is not a catalogue.” Benji chuckles. “An old sketchbook, is all. I was planning on throwing it out, but didn’t quite have the heart to.”

He says the last line more to himself, eyes wandering over to the trash box. The boy follows his gaze.

Wordlessly, he slips the sketchbook into his bag as well, and plods toward the door. Somehow, Benji feels like he can breathe a little easier. He’s already opened the door when he turns back, one last time.

“Um. Thank you. For everything.”

Benji should be thanking him.

“It was my pleasure.” He says instead, and then, “Feel free to drop by anytime.”

The boy loiters for a second, and Benji wonders just what kind of expression is under that hood of his.

“Maybe.” He replies, then breezes out the door.

People shuffle past in all directions, and no one notices when Shouto joins the crowd. The quiet of the homey tailor’s place feels like a dream already, and he longs for the warm wooden floor over the grainy cobblestone of what he can only assume is a road.

Though he expected the crowds, he didn’t think having so many people around would make him… comfortable. There’s something familiar in the way everyone is shuffling past, of all ages and to all sorts of destinations. It’s like standing in the middle of the Kiyashi Ward Mall. He’d only been a few times, but…

He remembers Uraraka, showing him how to play arcade games. Iida, recommending sports gear. Tsuyu, buying him bubble tea. Midoriya, helping him choose his first All Might action figure (or more like, his first five).

A group of giggling girls bump into Shouto, jerking him out of his thoughts. He stares as they scurry past, skirts swishing around their ankles, too caught up in what they’re eating to notice him. Despite the medieval western clothes, the odd setting, the sight is painfully mundane. For a moment, their backs overlap with his friends, joking and elbowing each other.

‘Let’s go where they went.’

“What?” Shouto tears his eyes away, and the image shatters.

‘Aren’t you hungry? Let’s go find where they got those sweets.’  The cat prompts, slinking onto one of his shoulders and leaping out into the open. A couple people nearby stop and stare, but the cat is already trotting in the direction the girls came from.

‘Maybe we’ll get lucky again and they’ll give us free food.’

Suddenly, Shouto is very aware of his empty stomach. He can feel it curling in his gut, like an abandoned beast. It churns nauseatingly, so he jogs after the cat, more than eager to find a bite to eat.

He examines the town to distract himself, allowing his curiosity to take over. He can feel the heat of the summer sun enveloping his shoulders like a hug, and he never realized how much he missed it’s natural heat, especially with his fire still out of commission. The chatter and the patter and the occasional hollers surrounding them are suitable background music for the pure chaos that is, what Shouto strongly suspects, the shopping district.

There doesn’t seem to be any order to the arrangement of vendors – Shouto spots a bright boutique right beside a menacing weaponry store – and there doesn’t seem to be a limit to what is being sold either. Directly to his left, a hunched figure rearranges their assortment of bones, some of which look very human. Straight ahead there’s a willowy boy who looks like he might collapse under the weight of the thick tomes he’s shelving. That is, if the ancient looking pages didn’t crumble first. He thinks Yaoyorozu would love to get her hands on them just to feel their weight.

Most delightfully, when he turns the corner, there is food everywhere.

A bakery to the right, a skewered meat vendor straight ahead. Just a few steps away, there’s a stand selling roasted peanuts. A large group of children crowd around, stealing handfuls from the giant metal tin. The lady manning it scolds them with a smack and a smile, but lets them. Shouto perks up, heading towards her, only to get shoved aside by another group of kids.

“Oof!” He lands on his butt, barely catching himself with a hand before his head hit the cobbled rock as well. The cat doesn’t notice, slipping into the crowd of children with ease. He frowns as the new batch add to the crowd – he can’t even see the maroon of the lady’s messy updo. His stomach growls, and Shouto grinds his teeth in retaliation. He hasn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch, if anything he should be at the front of the…

A small boy runs by, his shirt barely held together by the assortment of stiches and patches. It’s 3 sizes too big, and looks more like a dress. There’s a clicking with every step, and Shouto jolts, spotting a prosthetic leg. It looks eccentric, with a few odd looking buttons along the side.

When he looks properly, he can see that most of the kids are dressed similarly. A few others have similar mechanical parts – an arm here, eye there. Patches and tears everywhere on their clothes, like tatters held together by string. They looked rough and handed down five times over. Not good, or healthy, or even comfortable for kids their age.

Shouto crosses his legs and sits up, watching them savour the peanuts with more gusto than Shouto ever would’ve, with bright smiles and laughs. He supposes, despite its fantasy-like feel, he should remember that this world has it’s own complexities.

He can wait his turn. Shouto closes his eyes and opens his other senses. He can almost taste the abundance of food, the variety of aromas clashing on his tongue. His nose twitches, singling one scent out from the rest.

It’s mouth-watering. Suddenly, finding whatever was exuding that delectable scent and putting it in his mouth took precedence over everything else.

He stands abruptly, following his nose to a fancy shop, tucked in the corner of the bountiful plaza. Despite its location, it seems to have a steady flow of customers. Shouto glances up. He can’t read the polished wood sign dangling above the door, but the nutty scent and array of brightly coloured candies in front of the display window are enticing enough. Shouto has not eaten many sweets before, but he thinks that may change now, especially with the absence of any sort of version of his father. Promisingly, he hears a couple girls exiting the shop mention how charming it was of the shopkeeper to give them free samples.

Shouto can’t help bouncing as he pushes open the door, the pleasant chime of bells announcing his entrance. Upon glancing up, he sees not bells, but floating balls of multicoloured light. They pepper the inside here and there, lighting up the shop and giving it that fairy-like glow from the outside.

But they’re nothing compared to the magical display in the center of the space: an oddly familiar tree-like structure is made of hundreds of the little fairy lights squeezed together. Its boughs wave like a willow tree, but the way passing customers bat at them, giggle at their musical tinkle, makes it seem more beautiful than that. Almost unnatural in appearance…

Wisteria. The word floats through his mind. He steps closer as a couple girls edge away, reaching out to touch the little orbs. The light bathes his fingers, and Shouto wonders, would it feel smooth and warm like sun-warmed glass, or cool and fresh, like dipping his fingers into a spring brook.

Then someone slams the counter, loud and sharp.

The entire shop falls silent. Even the musical chimes cease, so abruptly that Shouto feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Slowly, he twists around. The counter is a pleasant yew that looks elegantly carved, and it runs along the border of the shop, blocking the customers from the shelves upon shelves of what Shouto now notices is not only candy, but chocolate. So that was the nutty scent. He wonders what it tastes like.

But then his eyes raise from the counter to the person behind it, and he forces himself not the flinch at the seething glare the shopkeeper gives him. He does anyway, and Shouto curses this undisciplined body.

The two girls who’d avoided him moments before were poised on either side of the shopkeeper, hands over their mouths as they whispered. The shopkeeper himself snaps his fingers, and the fairy lights curled up out of Shouto’s reach. He quickly tucks his hand back under his cloak. Had he done something wrong?

“Get out of my shop, thief.” The shopkeeper hisses, and Shouto’s brow furrows. Clearly, there is some sort of misunderstanding here.

“I’m not a thief.”

The shopkeeper scoffs. “Stop lying, you low-life.”

That was uncalled for. Shouto feels his blood boil. The man isn’t listening at all. He’s too hungry for this.

“I’m not! I just wanted to buy something–”

“You? Buy something? From my shop?” The shopkeeper exclaims, a mocking twist to his mouth. The girls beside him giggle behind their still raised hands. Shouto shifts uncomfortably. Well, maybe he hadn’t exactly come in with the intentions to buy anything, but he wasn’t planning on stealing either. It’s weird of the man to jump to conclusions, but if Shouto just explains himself–

“I only serve people with shoes.” The shopkeeper sneers.

Shouto blinks slowly, a sinking feeling in his gut. Suddenly, he’s very aware of the fashionable and likely costly dresses the girls are wearing. Glancing around, he realizes everyone here is dressed posh and proper. Shame creeps up his back and onto his face as he takes in his own now plain clothing and… bare, muddied feet. He’d been hiding them under the cloak, but now that it had been hemmed…

The shopkeeper grows impatient at Shouto’s lack of movement.

“Here.” He smirks, grabbing one of the large glass jars of hard candy resting on the counter. Shouto glances up at him hopefully, hood slipping back. It is red and white peppermint, a candy he held fond memories of since they were his mother’s favourite. He himself doesn’t particularly like them, but right now he isn’t picky at all.

Right before he steps forward to take some, the shopkeeper opens the lid and in one smooth movement, dumps the contents on the floor.

They scatter in all directions, and a few customers shift, annoyed, as some land on them. Shouto watches as one candy rolls towards him, bumping into his foot.

“I doubt you can even afford a single one of these.” He comments, lip curling cruelly. He picks up one that fell on the counter, and rolls it between his fingers. One girl leans in to whisper in a way Shouto can hear: “Look at that filthy hair.”

The shopkeeper grins. “Go on. I’m feeling generous.”

The temptation is there. To pick up the food so easily tossed and sooth his queasy stomach. But flooding through his body, replacing the shame and embarrassment, is fiery rage.

His fingers twitch, aching to bury the shopkeeper in a glacier and shove a sharp icicle down his throat. But unlike his body, his mind is disciplined. Ice here would only give himself away. Besides, that would technically count as civilian harm, and he’s not supposed to do that.

But the urge continues to rise with the smug expression on the shopkeeper’s face. So he does the most logical thing to avoid murder: he turns on his heel, and walks out the door.

The tinkle of the bells signalling his exit sound mocking.

The plaza feels more claustrophobic than endearing now. The previously warm sun feels overwhelmingly oppressive, and combined with his empty stomach, Shouto feels light-headed. He looks up to at least let the solid blue of the sky cool his eyes, only to realize that he could easily see the top of the palace, cutting an impressive figure even from a distance. It looks so faraway, yet too close. He wonders if perhaps the castle had been bigger than he’d realized, which was odd since it had felt so small on the inside.

He drags his eyes back down, noticing a couple people glancing his way. They must’ve heard the commotion in the shop. Or maybe they hadn’t, but could guess just as well, what had happened when a scruffy boy entered a higher-class store.

‘Pull down your hood.’

Shouto pulls down his hood, irritated. “Look who’s back.”

The cat gives him a stare that looks like it’s trying to replace an eyebrow raise. ‘Be a bit more self-aware, Shouto-san. What did you think would happen, aiming for that upscale place.’

She states this like a fact, and Shouto is about to snap back. With what, he’s not sure, but the inexplicable urge to release his ire frees his clogged up throat.

“I–”

‘Here.’

The words die immediately as the cat pulls forward a small crumpled paper. Shouto unfolds it. A handful of roasted peanuts lay inside, and he looks at the cat incredulously. She gestures towards the vendor, and Shouto looks up to see the middle-aged woman packing up her stand. She meets his eye for a second, then winks at him. Shouto feels his face warm.

‘Not everyone’s nice. But not everyone’s horrid either, I guess.’  She says, sitting down by his feet. ‘You just need to figure out which is which.’

He eats the peanuts one by one. It’s hard to swallow, past the lump in his throat. It’s also the most delicious thing he’s eaten since coming to this world. Though he’s far from full, he feels much more settled than before.

“... Sorry.” The boy murmurs, smoothing the empty paper on his thigh. He crouches down to brush his fingers through her fur. “And, thanks.”

The cat doesn’t respond, but she does purr when he scratches under her chin. He can’t help a small smile. The world bustles around them, faint shouting in the background. Something niggles in the back of Shouto's mind.

“By the way,” he asks, “Where did you get that paper from?”

“There it is, that little rat!”

Two large men come careening towards them. People leap out of the way, children scattering. The peanut vendor stiffens, clutching her things closer. It takes a moment for Shouto to realize they’re coming towards him.

He picks up the cat and sprints in the opposite direction.

“Shit, it has an owner!”

“What did you do?” Shouto pants, skidding around a corner. There is no way this body could outrun them for long, and while he may not be sick, he certainly isn’t in his best condition.

‘Nothing!’

“Then why are two large men chasing us? With axes?!”

Shouto makes a hard left into an alley between two stores. He presses against the wall, only breathing after the men pass by. Where had the axes come from?

‘I didn’t think it was such an important paper.’ The cat insists, and Shouto drops her in favour of examining the paper. As expected, he can’t read anything except for what he remembers means ‘girl’, and another word that he thinks, based off some of the reading he’d done of Fuyumi’s work, means ‘winklepicker.’

That’s probably not it. Shouto figures, flipping the page to see if there’s anything on the back (There isn’t). It seems like a message of some sort, and he wonders how important the information in it is, for those two men to chase them like that.

“You know,” he says, folding up the paper. “We could’ve just given it back to them.”

“That’s right.” Says a raspy voice behind them. Shouto whirls around to see the two men at the end of the alley, blocking the sun and casting a long shadow over him and the cat. Their foreheads look as wrinkled as the paper.

“Give it back, and we won’t do anything to ya.”

They hold their axes up threateningly, and Shouto holds his hands out placatingly. Right, this is good. He’d rather avoid anymore alleyway fights after what happened in Hosu.

“Sorry about my cat.” He says, holding it out. One of the men snatch it back, glaring at him. Shouto keeps his hands raised, stepping back. They finally lower their weapons, and take a moment to unfold and check the paper.

“By the way, what’s a winklepicker?” Shouto asks, curious. Dead silence for one, two, three seconds…

“He read it!” One man roars, and in a second both of them have their axes up. They reach towards Shouto menacingly, and startled the boy dodges, twisting back.

‘You idiot!’  The cat screeches, dashing deeper into the alley.

“You’re the one who stole it in the first place.” Shouto huffs, running after her. Unfortunately, they head straight into a dead end. A little desperately, Shouto activates a bit of mana and presses his right hand against the wall. Of course, nothing happens.

‘I thought it was just trash! They dropped it on the floor!’

“You were going to bring me food inside a piece of rubbish?” Shouto questions, affronted.

‘Well maybe if you weren’t so squeamish about raw meat–’

“Nowhere to run now, ya damn brat.” Indeed, Shouto finds himself cornered for the second time in the past two days. He wonders if this will become a daily occurrence.

As the men lumber over, one of them swinging their axe in circles ominously, Shouto exhales quietly. It seems, he would need to fight his way out of this one.

Chapter Text

“Why are you always here?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Because I live nearby.”

He takes in the dingy apartments surrounding them, half of which are crumbling and seemingly abandoned.

“Where?”

She grins, toothy and sharp. “That’s what all you authorities want to know.”

“Cat, I choose you.” Shouto says, grabbing her around the middle and launching her at the closest goon, the one with a red scarf. She screeches, landing on the man’s face flailing.

He curses in response, dropping the axe in favour of attempting to rip her claws out of his face. Frankly, the words are cute compared to the colourful language the cat is spewing, and while a tiny part of Shouto hopes she’ll forgive him afterwards, the larger part of him is satisfied by his petty revenge.

Definitely not accepting food from her agai– Whoa. Shouto sidesteps as the other man swings his axe down. He twists, kicking the back of Red Scarf’s knees so he falls into the danger zone.

The cat jumps off the man’s face just in time for him to see his buddy’s axe hurtling down. There are twin cries of shock, and Shouto takes the opportunity to sprint out of the alley.

Then a meaty hand grabs his ankle, and the boy falls flat on his face. He groans at the assault of pain that throbs in his nose, something warm seeping down his lip and into his mouth. The taste of iron has Shouto spluttering. He hasn’t had a nosebleed from something other than a fist or foot since he was 9 – not since his reflexes had developed to the point of instinct.

He allows himself half a second to gather his senses, then flips over to hammer his foot against the hand holding him back. To his shock, it belongs to Red Scarf, who had seemingly lunged at Shouto from the floor. He’s panting, looking angry and dazed, likely concussed if the enormous bleeding and bruised lump in the middle of his bald head is any indication. In other words, he’s doing much better than Shouto anticipated.

The other bandit grins at Red Scarf, grabbing Shouto by the collar and lifting him high into the air. The hand on his ankle falls away. Immediately the boy spins in his grip and kicks the guy square in the jaw.

He grunts but doesn’t let go. His eyes are vicious as he holds up the axe and Shouto inhales sharply, because it isn’t an axe anymore, but a club. Now that he has a closer look, he can see the clunky shape at the end where the blades might have disappeared into.

“Ya little– You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” The man growls, shaking the boy. Shouto coughs as his hood falls back, trying to think through the pulsing of blood in his nose. The club – the man must’ve pulled the blades in right before hitting his friend, which would explain why Red Scarf wasn’t split in two.

“Any last confessions?” He smirks, running his thumb along the handle.

Yes, Shouto thinks, I’m surprised you know such a large word.

But his eyes are caught on buttons by the man’s fingers, placed in two neat lines. They’re disarmingly familiar up-close, and the shadow of the cat in his peripheral vision has a somewhat risky plan surfacing. He opens his jaw, blood dripping into his mouth, and bites down hard.

“What? Too scared to talk?” The goon leers, leaning in close. The horrid metallic taste on Shouto’s tongue makes him want to gag.

“I spit in the face of adversity.” Shouto replies, and spits blood right in the man’s eyes. He thinks Kaminari would be proud of his joke.

“Agh!” The man flinches back, eyes screwing shut, and the cat takes the opportunity to jump up and bite his wrist. He roars, grip loosening enough for Shouto to slip out of his cloak and land in a crouch on the ground, before nailing the thug between the legs. The squeal that results has Shouto idly pondering the guy’s vocal range.

He wastes no time in scooping up the dropped weapon, staggering a little at the unexpected weight of the bulky end. He runs his fingers over the buttons, deciding to wing it.

“No. No. Hm, no. No.” Shouto murmurs, pressing each button with varying outcomes. The entire second line of buttons don’t do anything, but along the first row he’d gotten spikes, a spear, the axe again, a scythe–

“Aha!” The next button has a whip lashing out as if held back by a spring. Shouto glances over to make sure the whimpering goon is distracted, before stomping an ice covered foot down to shatter the weird contraption and free the whip. The ice shatters too, and Shouto reckons it looks enough like glass that it wouldn’t be suspicious.

“Right,” the boy exhales, adrenaline still coursing through him. The man shivers as Shouto walks up to him, whip trailing behind. He tilts his head down, hair casting a shadow over his face.

“Now to deal with you.”

‘… Where’d you learn that?’ The cats asks, watching Shouto use the whip to tie the man up in a questionable manner.

“Modern Art.” Shouto responds, tightening the last knot and gagging the man with a cloth ripped from his dirty yellow shirt. Truthfully, he’d never thought Midnight’s… unconventional lessons would ever come in handy, but here he is.

There’s only one whip, not that he needed the other because Red Scarf had already scampered off with his weird weapon-contraption, likely while Shouto was dealing with the other man. It’s unfortunate, but after what had just happened, he wouldn’t come after Shouto again, especially injured and without his buddy as back-up.

Or so he thought, but while refastening his cloak, Shouto hears the tell-tale tapping of footsteps signalling another’s presence. The cat notices first, ears twitching back, and Shouto picks up the broken remains of the weapon. It’s practically just a stick now, but he would use it to add another lump on Red Scarf’s head if he thought he could sneak up on Shouto with such obvious footfalls.

The boy slides against the wall until he’s at the edge of the alleyway entrance. As soon as a scarf enters his vision he yanks it down, causing the person attached to tumble to the ground.

He raises his weapon, only to falter at the sight of a girl who’s scarf, to his embarrassment, is pale yellow.

Her goggles have flown off her head, allowing pink locks to fall out of place over her face.

“Ain’t you a jumpy one.” She chuckles, sitting up.

She doesn’t look particularly upset at Shouto’s rough treatment, hopping onto her feet and dusting off her shoulders. On her arms and legs is curious gear, with lines of buttons that take Shouto a moment to recognize as the same ones on the goons’ weapons. The same buttons, he realizes, that were on the prosthetics of those children in the plaza.

“… Hatsume?”

The Hatsume Mei look-alike cackles.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me! Gotta thank you for helping me get one of my babies back,” She grabs the remains of the weapon from his hands, examining it with a hum. “Even if it ain’t in one piece.”

A little numbly, Shouto recalls that Hatsume calls her gadgets her ‘babies.’ He’s not sure why he’s always involved when she tends to lose them.

‘You know her?’ The cat asks, curling around his left leg.

“A… friend.” He murmurs.

‘You have friends?’

Shouto ignores her, trailing after Hatsume who makes her way determinedly to the pile of broken springs and wood on the ground. She abruptly twists around to push her scarf into his face, before crouching down to dig through the mess. Shouto stands dumbly for a moment, before realizing his nose is still bleeding. He uses it to pinch the soft lower part of his nose with his right hand, discreetly cooling the cloth so it acted as an icepack. Unexpected gratitude wells up, and he almost asks how she’s been, but quickly switches the question.

“Um, do you know this guy?” He asks, pointing at the man still leaning against the wall. The thug glares balefully, narrowing his eyes at the sight of Hatsume.

Shouto can’t help but stare as well. He can’t even ask how she is without it seeming odd or suspicious. He’s a bit thrown off, since she’s the first person he’s seen from his world in this one, other than his family. However... unlike his family, Hatsume doesn’t seem to recognize him at all. He’s aware she wouldn’t even if he had his scar, or his hair were its original colours, but it’s still disconcerting.

 And unfortunately, it isn’t like she provides any leads; she definitely hadn’t been there when they’d been surrounded by villains, as a student from the Support Course. Because though the memories of that night are fuzzy, he’s certain of one thing:

The faces of his classmates, shocked and confused, as purple flames washed over them.

A loud crash jars him out of his funk, from Hatsume pulling out the main body of the contraption at the end of the weapon, the one holding the different blades and features.

“Nope, don’t know him! Certainly can’t blame him and his friend for stealing my babies though, anyone with eyes can see how fine they are.” She exclaims heartily, and Shouto can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, not when the familiarity of her personality washes over him in a wave of intense nostalgia.

“It’s a good thing they went for these incomplete ones instead of one of my more precious babies.” She rambles, gathering the pieces. Somewhat guiltily, Shouto kneels down to help her with his free hand.

“Could you imagine if they had gotten my winklepickers? Lord, that woulda been bad.”

Shouto drops the axe blade. The cat screeches, bolting out of the way. Hatsume tuts, picking it up herself.

“I read that right?” He says, bewildered. Come to think of it, the goons had recognized the word when he’d asked about it earlier.

‘That’s not it! Ask what she means!’ The cat hisses.

“I mean, those two guys had a note with them. It said something about winklepickers and,” Shouto’s eyes widen, “A girl.”

“Hm? Seems like they were looking for me then.” Hatsume says lightly, hands flitting around to gather specific parts. She stuffs them in the large rucksack she’d been wearing on her back.

“Maybe they got a hold of my letter. Guess the mailing system really has turned faulty.”

“The what?” Shouto blinks, “And what are winklepickers?”

Hatsume grins at him, pulling something black out of her bag. “That would be these bad boys.”

Shouto examines the buckles, the sleek black look, and the pointy ends.

“They’re… shoes.”

‘They’re those weird 20^th century rock shoes.’  The cat grimaces.

“They’re prototypes.” Hatsume says, “A request from my sponsor. She sent me the idea, I designed it and added some gorgeous features.”

She taps the heels together twice, and the soles open up, making way for–

“They’re… rollerblades.” Shouto states, confused.

“They’re beautiful.” Hatsume sighs, content.

‘They’re Heelys.’ The cat spits, disgusted. Shouto gives her a side-eye, and she hunkers down moodily. He wonders what’s got her all worked up.

 “I couldn’t go all out on these babies since it was a paid request, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t sneak in a few fun things in the prototypes.” Hatsume winks, opening up one of the buckles. Sure enough, it reveals her signature buttons underneath, lined on the surface of the shoe.

“… That’s nice,” Shouto says, reminding himself to be patient when it comes to talking with Hatsume.

“But why did those men want your shoes?”

The girl shrugs, swinging her rucksack back on. “My sponsor is rich. They probably found out through the letter I sent my partner that we were gonna present them at the Convention.”

Hatsume straightens up and strides off. “And everybody knows new products at the Convention are worth a fortune~!”

Shouto watches her back in befuddlement. Convention? Sponsor? Partner? He’d thought that having an actual conversation with someone would make more sense than eavesdropping, but somehow he’s more confused than before.

“Wait, Hatsume!” Shouto jogs after her, but the cat nips at his heels.

‘Shouto-san, let’s just leave.’ Her eyes glow with something akin to annoyance, ‘There’s no point in hanging around her when she’s useless.’

Shouto blinks. It’s harsh, but she has a point. Shouto shouldn’t keeping sticking around Hatsume just because she’s a familiar face. But in the back of his mind, imprinted like a tattoo:

People have a way of finding each other.

“Hatsume, can I meet your partner?” Shouto calls, catching up to her.

“Hm. Nope.” Hatsume chirps, twirling the remains of the weapon handle in her hand like a baton.

“I just want to see what they look like.” Shouto pleads, belatedly realizing he sounds creepy.

“And then I suppose you’ll want to meet my sponsor too.” Hatsume sings, skipping into the early-afternoon light. Shouto follows her, feeling the nerves and chills from the fight fall off his shoulders along with the alleyway shadows.

“Can I?” The boy prods, pulling his hood up. The cat leaps onto his leg and clambers up his body, settling back under the hood.

Hatsume turns her head and smiles. Shouto backs away, because her eyes glint with something hard.

“Kid, you’re asking to meet my partner and my sponsor for a product I just told you would be featured at the Convention.”

Shaken by her oddly serious demeanor, all Shouto can say in response is:

“We’re the same age.”

Hatsume blinks, and Shouto internally cringes. Obviously he should’ve addressed what she was implying. Made it clear he wasn’t going after her product or anything. That he was just wondering if those people were… people he knew.

A bark of laughter startles him, and Shouto stumbles as Hatsume thumps him on the back.

“You’re a funny one! You talk like a kid but act like you’re older.” As Shouto takes a moment to ponder that, Hatsume winks at him.

“I’ll tell ya what, you help me get my other baby back, and I’ll introduce ya to my partner.”

Shouto and the cat look at each other.

“I’ll die before I tell ya anything.” The man spits, like a particularly poor rendition of Shouto’s earlier defiance.

“Then perish.” The boy says, raising the blade of the axe above his head. He’d never tried interrogation without his quirk before, but he finds weapons quite fun. Maybe he would try forming weapons out of ice. It would be a nice addition to his arsenal.

“You don’t have the guts, ya brat!” The man sneers, straining against the whip. His trembling body betrays his fear.

“Neither will you when I’m through with you.” Shouto says to him, then turns to Hatsume as the man reflexively clenches his core.

“Are you sure they have a camp somewhere?” He whispers from the corner of his mouth.

The girl nods, fiddling with something in her bag. “Of course! Haven’t you heard the rumours of some big bandit group near the outskirts of Endeavor?”

“… No.” Shouto says, letting his arm fall. The blade in his hand whooshes past the man’s head, just missing his ear. He lets out a whimper which Shouto ignores. “Aren’t we in the… Capital, though?”

Hatsume looks at him disbelievingly, then giggles. “Have you been imprisoned in the palace or something?”

Shouto’s murmured “something like that” goes ignored as Hatsume rubs her chin, seemingly collecting her thoughts.

“Well, there’s been no official news or anything,” the girl explains briefly, pulling out the scythe blade. She inspects the edge, then slashes at the man’s body faster than he could blink. He sits petrified for a second, before his gross corn-coloured shirt falls off in tatters. Hatsume hums appreciatively.

“Still nice and sharp. Anyway, it’s been on the down low, but everyone with a brain has figured out some way or another that they’ve been sending out groups to terrorize people around the country.”

“Explains why you had no idea.” The goon sneers, and Shouto considers re-gagging him.

‘More importantly, how has this ‘bandit group’ been intercepting letters to find targets?’ The cat contemplates, brushing by his ear. ‘Mail, like the letter you got from your brother, is completely handled by the Mail Organization.’

“That sounds official.” The boy mumbles, brow furrowing. “Could this bandit group be bigger than we think? They have enough members to be sending out teams, they potentially have ties with official organizations… isn’t this the beginnings of an organized crime syndicate?”

‘They’re a bunch of thugs who terrorized a mailman, you’re thinking too much.’ The cat deadpans. ‘It has nothing to do with us, anyway. We just need to deal with the small group this guy is part of.’

“Hm.” Shouto considers. “Fair enough.”

He levels his blade at the man’s throat.

“You. Take us to your group’s camp.”

The man leans away, pressing against the wall.

“You talk like a pampered brat from the capital. You won’t kill me.” He snarls, seemingly confident on this particular point. Indeed, Shouto has no plans to become a murderer anytime soon. But this man didn’t need to know that.

“You will lead us to your campsite. But if not,” Shouto says, letting his hood drop back. From his shoulder, the cat hisses. He stares down from the shadow of his hair, knowing from experience at the palace that that seemed to scare the people around him.

“I wouldn’t mind having two cats around.”

The man pales at the implication. Hatsume whistles lowly.

“So, you really kill someone?” Hatsume asks, elbowing him.

The bandit is shuffling forward up ahead, leading them down the main road. Shouto had retied the whip around his wrists, and grips the man’s hands in place behind his back. With Hatsume beside him, he hopes they look like a couple of friends to the people around them. The hardest part would be getting past the large gates with the guards stationed beside them, but for now they don’t look too suspicious.

“No.” Shouto whispers, because Hatsume is still looking at him expectantly. He leans closer so their prisoner can’t hear.

“Hm~,” Hatsume chuckles, “You’re an interesting guy. Why a cat, of all creatures?”

Shouto blinks slowly, not sure what that question means. “Because… She happens to be a cat?”

Shouto gives the cat another side-glance, something he’s realizing will become a habit when addressing her in the presence of company. “Why are you a cat?”

‘Does it really matter?’ She grumbles, repositioning herself on his shoulders.

“Yes. Why aren’t you a person?” Shouto presses.

 The cat bristles. ‘Maybe because it’s just easier to steal from animals, since humans have been doing it for so long–’

Hatsume full-on belly laughs, interrupting what sounded like the beginnings of an environment rant (?). Shouto is partially relieved, but also partially bummed because the cat might’ve dropped more hints about her quirk.

“Stealing from a cat?” He questions out loud, but doesn’t get to hear the answer as Hatsume thumps him on the back again, something she seems prone to doing when extremely amused.

“You’re funny! Alright, I won’t ask about the cat.” She bumps into him again boisterously, pushing them both forward. Then once more she tumbles into him, and raises her voice in a loud cackle.

Shouto thinks she might be finding him funny for too long, and this thought solidifies further with every additional hip check from her. He trips more times than his pride will allow, and he finds himself cursing this untrained body just from the shame of being pushed around by someone who wasn’t even from the Hero Course.

Naturally, he’s aware that they technically aren’t the same people as in his world, but his right eye still begins twitching by the seventh stumble. Then suddenly, Hatsume stops.

He looks at her, irritation transforming to confusion. She winks, gesturing behind them with a slight tilt of her head. Shouto glances back, then would’ve done a double-take if Hatsume hadn’t roughly nudged him. They had already left through the gates, past the stationed guards, without so much as a hiccup. Hatsume had been so rowdy he hadn’t noticed that they’d successfully exited the capital.

“They… Didn’t say anything?” He asks incredulously. Hatsume grins.

“They don’t care about who goes out so much as they care about who goes in.” She says, and Shouto is struck by truth of the fact. He remembers clearly that while escaping the palace, he wouldn’t have faced all that trouble if the security hadn’t thought someone had somehow gotten in. Touya, clearly, had managed to escape much easier than he had.

But, that didn’t explain her pushiness. He glares at her, and she snorts.

“Lord, your face. Sometimes when you want to hide something,” she tugs at the bound hands of the bandit meaningfully, “It’s better to act louder instead of quieter. Like you have nothing to hide.”

Hatsume drops the advice casually, always amused with Shouto’s naivety, yet always willing to give him a hint. His face slackens, and he turns his eyes to the now dirt road. He’s been learning lesson after lesson in this world, and not for the first time wonders how sheltered he is. Especially now that he’s in an entirely new world, with a history, and different societies and systems. With little things everyone seems to inherently know, like what dangers to avoid, what organizations exist, what stores they shouldn’t enter–

Even if that was just a consequence of growing up in this world…

Shouto doesn’t think he knows any of these things about his own.

The thug grunts, and Shouto shakes off his strangely somber musing to see the man straying off the road into the left side of the bordering forest. He shares a look with Hatsume, and follows their prisoner into the woods.

The forest here is sparser, with thinner trees and less moss. The prince briefly wonders if his father had had the forest around the palace grown thick on purpose. Perhaps there was an alternate Kamui Woods who did yard renovation.

While it’s easier to find his footing, without worrying about cutting his bare feet, the numerous trees are disorienting to weave between. He digs his fingernails into the man’s wrist, resulting in a painful hiss. A warning, that he would not react kindly if the bandit is trying to fool them.

The man picks up the pace, clearly eager to get back to his friends. Maybe he thinks he can take Shouto and Hatsume with the rest of his group, but Shouto is already mentally prepared for such a situation. He’s confident he can take them, particularly with the help of Hatsume and whatever gadgets she has in her rucksack (he’d seen her performance at the Sports Festival in his world, after all). If worse did come to worse, he always has his ice as a back-up, though using it isn’t ideal. Ice-related quirks may not be completely rare, but he’s not sure about ice mana users, and he’d rather not potentially expose himself as a royal if it turns out his family’s mana manifestations are unique.

They come to an abrupt stop. Shouto examines the small clearing with signs of dismantled tents and a burnt-out campfire, still smoking. The place has just been deserted.

He turns to the floundering man, unamused. He feels the cat shift on his shoulders, ready if they needed to threaten him again. Hatsume slips the scythe out of her bag, twirling it like she did with the broken weapon handle earlier.

“W-Wait, I don’t fuckin’ know why they ain’t here–” A loud crash interrupts him, and all heads turn in the direction of the road. There’s a moment of tense silence. Then Hatsume grips his arm painfully, and her piercing gaze meets his.

“My partner,” she gasps, “She’s supposed to be arriving in the capital today.”

Shouto grits his teeth and dashes ahead without further hesitation, Hatsume at his heels. The thin but populous trees are now fairly annoying, because while he has footing, dodging them as he tries to find the shortest route back to the main road prevents him from hurtling towards the danger at top speed.

‘Shouto-san–’  The cat starts, but Shouto shakes his head. He cannot, in good conscience, ignore people in need. Not when he could help them.

“I may look different, but I’m still a hero.” He tells the cat. She falls silent.

Though he’s been running for what feels like too long, he isn’t any closer to the end of the endless trees. He’s sure they hadn’t gone that deep into the woods, and he doesn’t think he’s heading in the wrong direction. Frustration begins to mount.

This body is too slow.

 He’s considering just using his ice to launch himself above the canopy, but Hatsume acts first. She leans forward to wrap her arms around his waist from the back, then crouches and hops.

The initial jump is innocuous, but when her shoes hit the ground again, she shoots straight up as if the ground were a trampoline. They smash through leaves and small branches until they break free and soar into the sky. Shouto squeezes her arms tight in bewilderment, and feels Hatsume grin.

“That pair of shoes in my bag is only one prototype!” She exclaims over the air rushing past his ears. Shouto snorts quietly. Of course Hatsume would make shoes that could skate and jump extremely high. The image of the row of buttons under the buckle flashes through his mind, and he wonders just what other features she’d crammed into them.

‘There!’  The cat shouts. Shouto startles at the ringing of her voice in his skull.

“You don’t have to yell!” He yells, and squints at the horizon. He zeroes in on the main road right away, and to his relief it isn’t much farther. Then his eyes catch on a wooden mass, which he instantly recognizes as a cart of some sort, with a mysterious creature attached. Said creature is cowering from–

“Bandits! More of them.” They’re stalking toward the immobile cart like a pack of predators.

We’re not going to make it, he realizes as gravity starts to tug them back down. We won’t reach before they do.

“Hatsume–”

“Way ahead of you kid!” Hatsume lets go of him, and Shouto is about to begin flailing when he feels a pressure against his back.

“Wha–”

“Go get ‘em!” She cheers, and sends him flying with a kick.

Shouto yelps, air smacking his face like a whip. His eyes water as his hood is ripped off his head. The cat is nearly ripped off too, but she tucks herself under his cloak and digs her claws into his new shirt.

He would complain later. For now, he should figure out how exactly not to collide with the fast-approaching road. The cloak fluttering like a cape behind him presents a potential solution.

Shouto grabs at the ends and tugs them out, hopefully creating some sort of parachute. His stomach drops when instead, the force of the wind causes the cloth to stiffen into something strong.

?!

He screams mentally, twisting to get a glance at it. Like a steering wheel, his body changes direction, following the movement of his head.

Like a steering wheel.

Shouto jerks aggressively to shift straight again. His body follows the movement, but he overcompensated, and is now headed somewhere parallel to the cart instead of towards it. He has no idea how to use this newfound gliding ability, but it seems to do him some good when he ends up crashing not into dirt, but a dirtbag.

‘Whaaat the heck.’  The cat screams as they careen into one of the bandits, momentum carrying them forward until they ram into a tree.

Shouto groans, sliding down and stumbling due to dizziness, rather than pain. He peers at the goon through blurry eyes, making out her large and flattened form pressed into the trees like some sort of odd sculpture.

“Thank you,” he nods, swaying, “You cushioned my fall.”

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the thugs behind him shouts. Shouto turns to face the group, who have switched their attention from the cart to him.

Good. He thinks, briefly glancing toward the front of the cart. A brown-haired man is clutching the reins of the unknown creature, glasses askew on his nose. He has a hand in front of the small window between the driver’s seat and the body of the vehicle, which is cylindrical and covered by the thick white cloth. He doesn’t look particularly scared, just surprised and… a little put off?

Well if the victims aren’t panicking or injured, that’s one less thing to worry about. He slides a foot back, standing in the typical defensive stance he used during quirkless combat. It feels stiff, so he adjusts a bit, facing sideways instead of forward – as though holding a sword.

Shouto frowns, not used to feeling so awkward and out of depth. He wishes the goons had attacked right away like in the alley, that way he wouldn’t need to think so hard about fighting while his brain knows one thing and his body knows something else.

Well no matter, Shouto will just make the first move while his enemies are standing around dumbly. The boy charges at the closest person, fist poised to punch. The man instinctively brings his arms up to block, and Shouto ducks under them to plant his fist on the ground instead. He brings his leg around in a wide arc, sweeping the man off his feet. The thug lands with an oomph! and the boy wastes no time in lunging forward to smash his head against the ground.

It’s more of a thud than the crack it would’ve been if he had his old strength, but he isn’t trying to break any skulls today. It’s enough for the man to fall limp and unconscious. Shouto straightens and hops a few times, shaking his arms to loosen them. The sweet sensation of adrenaline once again courses through his body.

“Alright. I’m getting used to fighting like this.” He exhales, turning to stare down the rest of the gang. There are less people than he remembers seeing from above, but nevertheless still a handful.

“Fuckin–” A lady rushes at him, and Shouto presses his lips together to suppress a grin. She has daggers clenched in both hands but clearly doesn’t know how to use them, slashing wildly. He drops into a crouch, but she anticipates a low shot and kicks her own leg out before Shouto does. With a grunt, the boy leaps over her entirely, dodging the foot and landing behind her. He kicks straight back without looking, pushing the lady flat on her face. The knives spin out of her hands.

Like this, he takes down three more bandits, each with some sort of weapon they aren’t particularly adept at using. As he yanks a club out of the last guy’s hands and tosses it aside, he’s certain their assortment of weaponry was collected through raids and thievery, which would explain why no one is trained in using them.

He pauses to catch his breath, glancing around. Nothing but dust and five bodies. His breathing becomes heavy, and he slouches over to clutch at his pant legs. Amateurs, of which he could’ve defeated over a hundred with his quirk, but here he is wheezing. Similar to before in the palace, the physical exertion catches up to him and has the boy's head fuzzy and his gut nauseous. He resists the urge to heave, because he will not throw up what little he’s eaten since the last time he hurled.

Despite this, he can’t help but finally smirk. There’s something exhilarating about fighting all out with his own fists, and he suddenly feels as though he can understand Uraraka when she gets excited about close combat. He’s sure he’s much sloppier than her, not that it mattered against such small fry, but he finds that he’d like to get better at it.

I should ask Uraraka to spar with me… and Ojiro too, for that matter. I wonder who I could ask about weapons training… Shouto flexes his fingers consideringly. The world indeed opens up once you are deprived of something you’ve depended on nearly your entire life. Perhaps the loss of his quirk – and the limits of using his mana – are a positive consequence that will help him grow further as a hero.

‘You idio– behind you!’

At the frantic yelp, Shouto whips around to see the dagger-lady dashing towards him with the club he’d discarded moments earlier.

Ah, there were six people including the tree lady–

Shouto stumbles back, then falls onto his butt as the club whooshes a millimetre above his skull. The woman bares her teeth viciously, looking exceedingly more comfortable swinging the large bat around than attempting technique with knives. Understandable, it looks way more fun.

She heaves it up and swings down hard. There’s no time for Shouto to do anything but block with his arms and hope they don’t break–

Like a flash of lightning, a green blur shoots by, taking the lady with it. Shouto hears a distinct crash, and then looks over to see the lady smashed into the trees beside the other woman. He thinks the additional character makes for a much more engaging composition. He tries to recall any similar-looking sculptures they may have gone over in art class, then wonders why art is the only subject he thinks of in life or death situations.

He’s about to run over to see what exactly had defeated the lady, but a cry from the cat has him jogging over to her first.

“Are you okay?” He calls, heart in his throat. when his eyes finally find her form, it’s clutched in the arms of the brown-haired man still seated on the cart. He’s worried for a moment that she’s hurt, but it turn out she’s just miffed by the man’s… more than warm demeanor.

“Awww what a cute kitty you are~.” He coos, smushing her against his face. Shouto’s nerves finally settle, and he breathes deeply for a moment to regain control of his trembling body. The man continues to shower the cat with affection, much to her obvious disdain.

‘Gross!’ She screeches, straining to create some distance, but to no avail. ‘So annoying.’

“Uh,” Shouto says, the words falling out of his mouth, “You really like cats.”

Unlike the entirety of the kingdom. The man blinks, noticing him, and breaks into a hearty grin that tugs at his eyes. He finally jumps down from the cart, and Shouto is too tired to react when he throws his arms around the boy.

“Thank you, young man! Truly!” He hugs the boy close for what feels like ages, and Shouto squirms until he finally lets go and holds out the cat.

“Is he yours?”

“She.” Shouto says as the cat scrambles out of the man’s grip and jumps onto Shouto. He catches her and places her on his shoulder. She curls around his neck and hisses at the man, who merely laughs at her hostility. “And, yes. Sort of.”

“Splendid!” He looks as though he’s about to say more, but Shouto’s eyes widen and he shoves him aside just as his former prisoner careens out of the forest, fists flying.

It seems he’d tried to take advantage of Shouto while he was distracted, but he’d done it poorly. Weariness is already setting into the boy’s limbs. Though he'd felt full of energy just moments ago, exhaustion crashes into him like a tidal wave. He doesn't think he can force himself to move fast enough to defend against this guy.

Then Hatsume drops out of the sky, crushing the goon.

“That’s no good,” she tuts, crossing her arms as he groans in pain underneath her, “I thought we became buddies! Fooled the guards together and everything.”

Shouto takes a moment to stare in bewilderment, then decides that from now on, he is used to Hatsume and her gadgets. He strides over, and helps pull Hatsume to her feet for the second time since they’ve met in this world.

“That’s right,” Shouto adds, glaring, “We’re practically family now. You can’t attack family.”

Solemnly, he reaches behind his head to pet the cat. “At least, that’s what I tried to tell my older brother.”

The thug pales and goes so stiff Shouto hopes he isn’t experiencing rigor mortis, because the hero-in-training really, truly meant it when he'd internally established that he does not want to become a murderer yet. Hatsume cackles, slinging an arm around his shoulders with unconcealed glee.

“As I thought, you’re the best!”

‘Nothing like implying you murdered your brother to gain popularity.’ The cat states woodenly, seemingly done with whatever kind of friendship had sparked between Hatsume and Shouto.

“Hatsume-chan!”

Hatsume whirls around, spotting the brown-haired man. Shouto is dragged along when she bounds forward to meet him.

“Mr. Shield!” They shake hands roughly. Hatsume looks like she’s attempting to tear Mr. Shield’s arm out of its socket, but he doesn’t mind at all, greeting her with the same vigour. Shouto watches the interaction curiously.

“Is he the ‘partner’ you were talking about?” He asks, somewhat morosely. He has no idea who this man is, unfortunately, which eliminates his potential lead. But then Hatsume shakes her head no, and Mr. Shield beams.

“That would be my daughter,” he says, leading them to the rear of the cart. He has to step over a body to do so, a person Shouto doesn’t remember taking down. He stares at the passed out thug in confusion, but that’s quickly overridden by shock when he sees the pile of bodies hidden from Shouto’s sight at the front of the cart.

The cat sucks in a breath. ‘Oh my–’

“–God!” Hatsume exclaims, leaning forward with her hands on her hips to examine the dump of people. “You really outdid yourself, kid.”

“… I didn’t do that.” Shouto breathes, suddenly hyperaware of their surroundings.

“Mei!” A girl’s head pops out between the flaps of the white tarp covering the trunk of the cart. Smart round glasses sit atop a curved nose, and blonde hair falls loose over her shoulders. This person… this person, Shouto knows.

“Melissa!” Hatsume bounces up to pull the girl out of the cart and into a tight hug. They both squeal, and Shouto immediately figures that Melissa is Mr. Shield’s daughter and Hatsume’s partner. He remembers her, from I-Island, and recalls that like Hatsume she makes support items for heroes back in his world.

“Did… Did you defeat all those other bandits?” Shouto asks, with little concern for how rude he's being without even bothering to introduce himself. He understands the sheer creativity of inventors, but this sort of fighting power from one who is essentially a civilian is downright extraordinary. It's unsettling, to see proof of such efficient combat ability without knowing who the actual combatant is. As someone with fighting instinct but a currently lacking body, it keys him up. 

Melissa loosens her grip around the other girl, finally noticing the boy.

“Oh no, not at all!” She chuckles, releasing Hatsume to fix her hair and push her glasses up in a gesture Shouto has seen Iida do many times before.

“That would be the work of our little knight friend!” Her gentle smile turns cheeky, and she yanks aside the white cloth with flourish. There’s a squeak from the revealed boy, shirtless and clearly in the middle of bandaging a wound on his bicep. He jolts on the crate he’s seated on, banging his head on one of the boxes forming a wall behind him. He yelps and reacts by leaning forward so far he topples out of the cart.

The three stare at the supposed knight, laying in a heap of tangled limbs.

Melissa laughs sheepishly, tugging him back onto his feet and dusting his back for him.

“Meet Deku!” She reintroduces, softer this time. She’s more focused on Hatsume than Shouto, which he’s glad about because it means neither notice how the air leaves his lungs like a popped balloon.

“H-Hi!” The boy stutters, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m Midoriya Izuku. Nice to meet you!”

Chapter Text

The day they’d first met, the air was windy and sharp with the scent of rain that never ended up falling.

“Shove off,” was the first ever thing she’d said to him, huddled and shivering behind a worn crate. She was just deep enough in the alley that no one walking by would notice her. But he was taught to be observant, pushed to be observant after hearing obscure details from a horror story about a small girl in bandages and two heroes who left her alone because they saw instead of looked.

The narrator of that particular tale had been distraught with guilt, and though he’d never gotten anything on what happened after, the little girl who showed up in their dorms with a face that had forgotten how to smile told him everything he needed to know. After that, he’d made it a habit to look closer.

And look closer he did. He’d never been in this area before, but chasing that pickpocket left him no choice in the matter. It’s dirty, dark, broken everywhere and yet still somehow held together. There’s an eerie silence, not from complete lack of sound, but from the ghosts of it.

Unseen figures shuffled around as quietly as possible. Birds battled over telephone wires in bursts of muffled flapping, yet none let out so much as a peep. A faded sign swung above a boarded shop, its faint creaking the only indication of the soundless wind.

An entirely monochrome place, both in sight and sound. It’s why he doesn’t see her at first, with her hair such a deep purple it’s nearly black. Paired with dark clothes and her small body, partially hidden behind the crate, he might’ve walked right by had he not noticed the shivering.

Certainly he doesn’t look much better himself, with his hero costume in tatters and muddy after toppling over a wire fence, but he doesn’t think he’s suspicious enough to warrant such a hostile response to “Are you okay?”

Naturally, he does the opposite of shoving off, and tucks the retrieved wallet into his belt. Then he crouches and radiates heat from his left side, because she looks like she needs warmth.

“Don’t worry. I’m a hero.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Obviously. You’re definitely not from around here.”

Her eyes flick to his left side, which he’d pushed closer so he wouldn’t need to actually form fire. For one incredibly self-conscious second, he thinks she’s looking at his scar.

“Hair like yours is a beacon.”

His hand shifts from his face to his bangs, tugging on the brilliant red strands. “Oh.”

He glances at her through the corner of his eyes. For someone who looks no older than elementary school, she acts rather mature. But she’s also a child, trying hard to make it seem like she isn’t inching closer to the heat.

He pushes the crate to sit in front of her, curled up in the same manner. With this, they’re at the same level.

“My name is Shouto.”

“Nobody asked.”

“But it’s not polite for me to ask without introducing myself first. So,” he doesn’t come closer, but he does tilt his head so he can meet her bright brown eyes.

“What’s your name?”

She stares, then in one swift movement pushes past him. He falls onto his side with an ‘oomph!’, wincing as he watches her dash further into the darkness of the alleyway.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she sneers, tossing something up and catching it. With a start, he checks his belt to see the wallet missing. She grins, then laughs, then runs away.

Midoriya’s voice is certainly the same, kind and honest. It’s like coming home after months adrift. Shouto swallows once, twice, to get rid of the aching lump in his throat. He’s surprised that he feels like crying, when he’s sure he should feel like smiling instead.

How odd. He hadn’t felt like this when he’d been with his family. Perhaps it was because finally, finally here was something, someone he knows. Someone who knows. The excitement buzzing under his skin accumulates in the form of swelling hope, bursting through his lungs and shoving his hood off his head. He clutches his friend by the shoulders, and blurts out:

“Midoriya!”

He’d pictured a grand reunion, complete with Midoriya’s surprised and glowing smile, and certainly some relieved sobbing. Hatsume and Melissa would be confused, but the boys would just giddily share a secret look. And they would definitely, finally, have a list of leads for finding the rest of their class, which the two of them would work together to investigate. Surely, the analytical boy would’ve practically figured out this world while Shouto had been fumbling about with a cat and various laundry baskets.

Instead, Midoriya laughs awkwardly.

“Um, yes?”

Confusion slices through his imagination like Hatsume’s scythe through the thug’s ugly yellow shirt.

“Midoriya,” Shouto says again.

“That’s me,” the supposed knight chuckles nervously, and Shouto feels the first stone drop into his gut, splashing in the pool of murky water that’s slowly flooding his insides. A possibility he’d never considered… no, never wanted to consider, floats to the surface.

“I’m Todo– Shouto,” he presses, glancing at Hatsume to make sure she didn’t recognize it as the third prince’s name. She is staring at him, but more out of amusement than recognition.

Midoriya pats his shoulder, as if trying to calm an errant puppy. “It’s nice to meet you, Shouto-kun.”

Shouto feels the greeting like a sharp punch to the gut.

“Yes, very nice to meet you, Shouto!” Hatsume barges in, clapping a hand against his back. “I never actually caught your name, huh?”

“Ah, sorry!” Melissa says, covering her mouth with a hand and walking up to join them. “I was so excited to see Mei I completely forgot to introduce myself as well. I am Melissa Shield. Over there collecting our fallen merchandise is my dad, David Shield. We’re from overseas.”

“Uh… Huh,” Shouto responds, nodding in response to David’s two-fingered salute, and completely covering up his inner turmoil. It’s somewhat amazing, how easily he falls back into his old habit of locking up unwanted emotions and forcing them to sink beneath the depths of his mind. Amazing, and terrifying. He lets the water rise further, filling his head. Drowning his mind.

“I’m… Shouto. I met Hatsume by chance.”

He can feel the cat trying to slip away, so he yanks her off his shoulder by the scruff of her neck.

“And this is my cat,” he says in what he is certain is a neutral voice, despite the cat’s trembling.

“Oh she’s adorable!” Melissa squeals, fingers twitching forward. Shouto dumps the cat in her hands and watches impassively as the girl squeezes so hard the cat’s eyes nearly pop out. Like father like daughter.

“A-A cat, Shouto-kun?” Midoriya prompts, sounding dreadfully forced in his enthusiasm. Can he even think of this person as Midoriya? Clearly, this is not his friend.

“Is there a problem?” Shouto snaps, immediately regretting it when the boy flinches.

There’s no reason to be mean, why is he letting his emotions get the better of him? Shouto determinedly turns the water inside frigid, sealing off any potential heated feelings.

It’s hardly this Midoriya’s fault that he doesn’t know. Though that begs the question…

Why? Why doesn’t he remember?

Midoriya begins floundering, dragging Shouto’s attention back to him. “N-No! No problem at all! It’s just, well, you know what p-people say about cats–”

“Oooh, yeah!” Hatsume interrupts snatching the cat from Melissa and holding her high in the air. She practically sparkles as she announces:

“Shouto says this is his older brother!”

There’s a painfully awkward minute of silence. Melissa looks hopelessly confused, while Midoriya looks like he’d not only stepped on a scorpion’s nest, but also got caught cheating with its lover after he ate its babies.

He’s shaking so hard Shouto idly thinks he causing the ground to start quaking. Or perhaps that’s just the world falling out from under his feet, slipping away since the moment Midoriya looked at him with no recognition in his eyes.

Shouto moves, breaking the stilted atmosphere.

“I’m going to get your weapon contraption, Hatsume,” Shouto says, shuffling over to the heap of bodies and beginning to dig through them. “A deal is a deal.”

Hatsume blinks at him, putting the cat down. The cat does not come to him. He does not look back.

Whether she’d sensed the weird mood or not, Shouto is immensely grateful when the girl slaps the side of the cart, turning to Melissa.

“Hey! Show me the stuff you brought with ya!”

That baggy olive vest over his white tunic is deceiving, Shouto thinks, as he watches other-Midoriya lift the drooping corner of the cart up like it weighs nothing. His clothes and baby face are definitely hiding solid muscles, and Shouto feels unreasonably sour at the thought.

It only makes sense, Midoriya has always been physically stronger, Shouto reasons to himself, but he can’t stop the biting voice echoing at the back of his mind, saying, I was strong too. So why is my other body like this?

It’s hateful, and foolish. He himself had caused the circumstances that lead to having such a weak body. If anything, the prince should feel spiteful, for what Shouto had set-up.

He almost takes out the journal just to ask, why? Why aren’t you mad?

But why is a question he seemed to be asking everyone, and there hasn’t been a single answer.

They trudge slowly towards the Capital, with Midoriya acting as the fourth wheel that had been broken. The strange creature (“Her name is Hana,” Melissa had announced enthusiastically) had calmed down some. Shouto admires the odd make up of her features, examining the way feathers meet fur, and fur meet scales. They seemed so distinct, and yet meshed seamlessly.

As his gaze drags down its body, he accidentally make eye contact with Midoriya. They both look away quickly, and Shouto hurries forward so he’s walking beside Hana’s fluffy head.

Just as he’s about to tentatively brush his fingers against the creature’s soft-looking neck, Hatsume shoulder checks him, apparently done chatting with Melissa at the rear of the cart. He stumbles, turning towards her huffily.

She shrugs, pointing to his hood. “Don’t you prefer that on?”

Shouto blinks. That’s right.

Shouto had forgotten. He tugs it on, letting his face become hidden to the world once more. It’s a good thing too, because they’re pulling up to the main gate. Normally, the cat would’ve reminded him.

But when he’d finally turned to look for her, she had disappeared.

Re-entering the Capital is a much more subdued affair. The previously lethargic guards are now straightened to attention, and eye Midoriya suspiciously.

“What wrong with the cart?” One asks, lifting his chin haughtily.

“Broken wheel,” Melissa pipes up.

“We had a run-in with bandits,” Midoriya explains, only for the guards to scoff at him.

“Nice try. What are you playing at–”

“Knights!” Hatsume chirps, swinging her fist up and down. “We actually were playing. We were pretending to be knights and accidentally broke the wheel in our scuffle.”

Though disgruntled at being cut-off, the guards look inordinately pleased at their choice of play and move aside.

“Bandits, yeah right,” one mutters as they pass through the gate, “No bandits roam Endeavor, the nation with the lowest crime rates.”

An expression of bewilderment overtakes Midoriya’s face, but Shouto’s just glad they got in without too much of a fuss. Hatsume nudges his shoulder, leaning close.

“Like I said kid, only the people with a brain.”

She snickers, but Shouto frowns. It’s not good at all to hear that the country’s law enforcement is this oblivious. How could they have no idea about the connected bandit groups prowling Endeavor, when they were meant to protect the people?

Hatsume notices his mood, but falsely links it to:

“You know Midoriya or something, Shouto?”

Well, maybe it isn’t exactly false. Shouto furrows his brow.

“… No. Not really, I guess.” He doesn’t ask why she asks, because even he thinks his behaviour has been too obvious.

“Hm. Well, I’m not sure if he’s rubbed you the wrong way or somethin’, but I say give the boy a chance. He’s a real good soul,” she whispers this part, smiling in a disconcertingly soft way at Shouto, “I think you’ll like him.”

Shouto stiffens. She seems awfully convinced for someone who’d met him less than 10 minutes ago. Had they perhaps chatted during the walk, while Shouto was lost in his thoughts? He looks away resolutely, stifling the urge to frown.

I know that, he doesn’t say, I know that way better than you probably do.

Hatsume bounds ahead after their exchange, in order to lead the group to a shop that would be able to fix the broken wheel on the cart. She sings praises of the repairwoman’s handiwork, which actually has Shouto convinced that whoever she is, she would be good at her job. The cat remains stubbornly out of sight. With every passing minute, Shouto grows more convinced that she’d left for good.

Well, it doesn’t matter. He enjoys the quiet now that her words aren’t ringing in his brain anymore. Melissa had taken to reordering their items in the cart, while her father guided Hana through the streets. Even Midoriya wasn’t muttering for once, seemingly struck silent ever since they’d entered the capital, so it’s only the rumbling of the cart’s wobbly wheels and Hana’s talons against the cobblestone that announce their arrival at the quaint and homely shack squeezed between two other stores.

Thick plumes of purplish smoke waft out of the various metal pipes poking through the roof like pseudo-chimneys, unlike anything Shouto’s seen before. Though they start off dark and smoky, they gradually fade as they get higher until they disperse entirely, leaving only the faint scent of something acidic.

“Heeey~!” Hatsume bangs on the flimsy looking wall, the sound surely echoing inside the shop.

“What in God’s name–” A mauve curtain yanks open at the left-most side of the shop, revealing a narrow doorway from which a hooded figure peeks out. They’re stiff with tension, but relax at the sight of Hatsume cheerfully waving.

“Oh, it’s just you Mei-chan.”

Hatsume bounces over and they greet each other warmly. Out of habit, Shouto turns to share a befuddled glance with Midoriya, but they both realize at the same time and look away, Midoriya out of nervousness and Shouto out of awkwardness. Right, not his Midoriya.

Suddenly, the wall trembles. With a painful groan, it begins to rise, and everyone except Hatsume winces at the ear-splitting noise.

“Can’t you shut that thing up?!” A murderous voice screeches from the shop on the right.

“Can’t you shut up?!” The hooded figure snaps back, emerging from the room which the wall had hidden just moments before. Midoriya and Melissa give Hatsume a worried and perplexed look respectively, but she waves them off.

“Ah, don’t worry, they’re totally friends. Why didja close your garage anyway?”

The stranger, who Shouto now realizes is probably the repairwoman, walks up to Hana and pats her flank.

“That time of the month.”

Midoriya lets out a choked cough.

“I’m just messin’,” she chortles, striding back inside, “Put that cart inside, will ya dear? And mister, follow me, this girl can take a break in the back.”

David unharnesses Hana and follows the woman past another, wider curtain. Midoriya dutifully drags the cart inside. There’s an instant change in temperature, and Shouto is almost overwhelmed by the sudden heat. He instinctively pulls up his ice, but perhaps the fight earlier had exhausted him more than he realized, because it’s too draining to do so. He lets his power die down, and wonders if this is what temperature feels like for everyone else.

How inconvenient. He’ll be more generous when his classmates ask for him to warm them up or cool them down.

As soon as everyone crosses the threshold, the shutter rumbles once more, closing noisily behind them. Shouto notices the amalgamation of gears and mechanical bits that make such a deceptively simple mechanism work, and turns to whisper a comment to the cat.

Ah, right, he remembers, she’s not here.

Shouto feels something pull in his chest, but obstinately ignores it. He didn’t do anything wrong. It’s actually somewhat annoying that he’s back to facing this world alone again. He wasn’t so upset that she needed to run away, what is she so afraid of?

He has a faint feeling of déjà vu, and then the reason why the cat seems so familiar to him pricks his mind. Could it be…?

Well, it doesn’t matter at the moment, since she isn’t here. The boy distracts himself by crouching to examine the gears, tapping one consideringly. From the other side of the cart, he can hear that David and the woman have returned.

Shouto wonders what he should do now. He’s found Midoriya, but he is still alone on his mission. He doesn’t have the faintest idea where to go from here. Should he discuss it with the prince?

But the cat isn’t here to switch them, he realizes bitterly. For now, his best bet is to just follow wherever this cart and Midoriya is going. Decision made, he straightens up only to bump into the repairwoman.

She’d apparently bent over to examine the spot with the missing wheel, and the resulting tumble has both their hoods falling off.

“Sorry…” He says, squinting at her through the abrupt blurriness. She responds in kind, and Shouto blinks rapidly to clear his vision. That’s why, it takes a few seconds for the mane of pink curls to register.

Before his brain can even compute this discovery, he latches onto the woman’s shoulder. She stares at him in bewilderment with electric blue eyes, all the more pronounced surrounded by her black sclera.

“… Ashido?!”

If there is any evidence that Shouto had not learnt his lesson, it would be that he is once again clutching the shoulder of someone who looks at him with no recognition in their eyes.

The repairwoman gently pries his hands off, taking a large step back. She smiles at him ruefully.

“Sorry, ‘fraid not sweetie. The name’s Niwa.”

Midoriya squawks from behind them, finally catching sight of her. “A dark elf?!”

“Ha ha… shit,” Niwa says, scratching her cheek, “this is why I don’t take customers ‘round the Dark Moon night.”

Hatsume’s smile drops for the first time since Shouto’s met her. “Oh… I totally forgot tonight is moonless. I’m sorry, Niwa-san.”

“That’s alright,” Niwa says, glaring playfully at Midoriya. “You got a problem with dark elves?”

Like clockwork, Midoriya flushes and waves his hands. “No no no no no not at all! I was just surprised since, well…”

Niwa barks out a laugh. “I’m half-human, so I can manage. Except around this time, mana flares up and all.”

She taps under an eye. “So these things that can give me away show up.”

There’s a little more awkward floundering from Midoriya and confused admiration from Melissa and David, who state they’ve never met a dark elf before. Hatsume appears relieved, and her grin returns with double the brightness, bouncing around the shop and examining the metallic bits and pieces on display.

Shouto can’t help but stare at Niwa, who takes her cloak off entirely after being revealed. Her hair may be pink, but he doesn’t think Ashido had blue eyes. Or maybe she did? He wracks his memory but for the life of him can’t put his finger on it. Were they brown? Green? Red? No, definitely not red…

Shouto frowns to himself. He is a bad classmate, and a worse friend. Are he and Ashido even friends? Probably not, actually.

Regardless, upon closer inspection Niwa really could pass for what was considered ‘human’ in this world. If her eyes were usually normal, then even her faintly pink skin could be reasoned away as a constant flush from the heat of her shop.

“Got something to say?”

Shouto flinches lightly. Niwa is looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and he realizes she noticed him staring. He scratches his cheek, moving out of the way so she can step past to crouch by the cart’s broken wheel. Now that she’s in nothing but baggy low cut pants and an grimy top under a thick charred apron, her toned muscles and scars are obvious and somewhat intimidating.

He doesn’t recall ever being so conscious of his body structure, but now he can keenly feel the thinness of his arms and the exhaustion in his bones when surrounded by people like Midoriya and Niwa.

It’s just insecurity, he tells himself, unable to stop his hand from reaching up to tug slightly reddish bangs over his left eye. The black was coming off.

The tightness of his skin indicating the existence of the scar is no longer present, but the ghost of it remains all the same. He thought he was used to his scar – he can certainly walk around with his head held high, and he rarely meets someone who stares now.

How could losing his scar make him more conscious of it? Perhaps it’s because it feels like a part of him is missing. To not have his scar is to not be Todoroki Shouto the hero student, and that feels…

That feels like if he were to ask this Midoriya to take off his gloves, only to see no harsh scarring on his right hand. All the evidence, proof of their growth and experiences, gone.

Tired of the gaping pit in his chest, Shouto stretches his fingers into the left half of his hair and tugs sharply to ground himself. Getting caught up in negative emotions is pointless.

“Need help tying that?”

“Huh?” Shouto glances down, but Niwa doesn’t look at him, busy loosening something under the cart.

“Your hair, dear.”

Shouto blinks, and she offhandedly gestures to the exposed side of his head.

“Oh…” He glances down at the tie around his wrist – he’d had to take it off when rubbing soot into his hair.

“Um, sure.”

Niwa waves him over, and he kneels on the ground in an awkward seiza.

“You’re too high up for me sweetie, set that butt on the floor,” she snickers, and hastily Shouto switches to sitting criss-cross.

Thick calloused fingers comb through his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly. Niwa gently untangles the knots, without a word about how it turns her fingers black. She tugs two locks over the tops of his ears, then takes the tie from Shouto’s fingers to fasten a small ponytail – in other words, the exact hairstyle Fuyumi would do for him.

“Thanks…” Shouto says, touching the side of his head and glancing back. The confusion must’ve been visible in his eyes because Niwa chuckles and pats his shoulder.

“No problem. Folks like us gotta have each other’s backs.”

Shouto twists around and opens his mouth to ask what that statement means, but the expression on Niwa’s face stops him.

Her eyes are shifty and she chews on her bottom lip, until her hand tightens on his shoulder, reminiscent of how he’d grabbed her earlier.

“Say, are you a friend of Ashido Mina?”

It would take a day for the cart to be fixed, since a new metal brace had to be made in addition to a new wheel. Shouto had watched in wonder as Niwa pulled the curtains at the back of her shop open to reveal a large forge full of flickering purple flames, which explained both the heat and the smoke.

Since Midoriya had just been hitching a ride with Melissa and David, he had somewhere else he needed to be, and so he would be separating from the rest of the group.

“I’m going with Midoriya,” Shouto announces. Said boy does a double-take, but Hatsume gives him a thumbs up.

“Then this is where we part, kid.”

Shouto blinks, realizing she’s right. Somehow, he’d grown used to her presence, to the point that she’s more familiar than Midoriya right now. The idea that they would need to part ways, especially with the cat still missing, is a bit…

But, Shouto is on a mission. He looks down, then up again to bow quickly, before retreating to Midoriya’s side.

“I suppose so,” he murmurs.

Midoriya gives him a side glance, eyebrows pulling down in troubled expression. “Wait, Shouto-kun–”

Hatsume’s raucous laughter interrupts him. “Come on Shouto! What kind of goodbye is that?”

She lurches forward to pull him into a tight hug for a disorienting few seconds. Shouto stiffens, and she pulls back before he can even blink.

“Here, I got something for you,” she says, pulling back and gesturing at Melissa, who steps forward with a smile.

“A thank you, for helping to retrieve my babies.”

Hatsume grabs the box from Melissa’s arms, opening the lid to reveal the boots from earlier.

Shouto blinks in awe. “The Heelys!”

“The Winklepickers!” Hatsume corrects with a wink, tossing them over. Shouto catches them, bewildered.

“But–”

“Like I said, I’ve made a buncha prototypes,” Hatsume grins cheekily, but there’s something gentle in her expression, “Besides, you really need something to protect your feet, kid!”

Shouto glances down instinctively, having forgotten about that completely.

“Hatsume…” He’s more touched than he’d thought possible of himself, and quickly he tugs them on. There’s a soft and tight inner layer that acts similar to socks, so it’s extremely comfortable.

“Thank you,” Shouto says, smiling softly. Thank you, for a lot of things.

“Just don’t be a stranger, kid!” Hatsume says, thumping him on the back.

“Yes!”

He waves as Midoriya says his own farewells, and the two of them duck out of the shop through the side entrance. Just before the curtain flutters closed completely, Niwa bursts out and grabs his cloak.

“Wait a minute!”

Shouto stops, then wrinkles his face as Niwa shoves something over his head. He shakes the stray strands of hair out of his face to look down and see a thin golden chain around his neck, with an exotic pendant nestled just below his collar bone. It’s a crystal circle, but is filled with a dark liquid that makes it look almost like–

“The Dark Moon,” Niwa whispers, tucking it under his shirt. “It will shift as the moon does.”

Shouto protests, because clearly this is something that helps her keep track of the lunar cycle, but Niwa raises a hand to silence him.

“I have my own. This is one I made for Mina, because she right adored mine,” Niwa chuckles, pulling Shouto’s hood up for him.

“This is what all those letters I wrote to her were on about. To set up a meeting for me to give it to her. If you could do it in my stead, when you meet her, she will know I was the one who sent you.”

Shouto’s eyes widen, but he nods determinedly.

“You know Ashido?” Shouto asks, leaning forward.

The corner of Niwa’s mouth turns ups. “I’d imagine so. She’s my sister’s one and only daughter, after all.”

Shouto blinks, stunned. Somehow, he’d forgotten that his classmates must also have family in this world, like he does. He thinks back to Niwa’s bright confidence and easy touches: It’s disarmingly Ashido-like.

He wonders if Ashido has an aunt like this back in their world, then realizes he has no idea. Not just about Ashido, but about most of his classmates and friends. The only thing he can say in response is:

“Oh.”

Niwa smirks wryly. “She’s a lot more Dark Elf than I am, since her father has a pure bloodline, so it ain’t easy for her to come visit. We send letters often instead, although lately…”

Shouto’s eyes narrow, recalling something Hatsume had mentioned earlier.

“The mail… there’s been issues with it.”

Niwa scratches her head. “Dunno, I guess so? All I know is I haven’t been getting any letters back, and I’m worried because she always responds real quick.”

Shouto straightens. “Wait, if you send her letters… May I know Ashido’s address?”

Niwa bites her lip. “It’s not that I don’t trust ya, but Mina doesn’t actually… Have an address.”

“Huh?”

“She’s joined a group in the Wildlands, and the folks there are always moving about. The closest post office ‘round those parts is in Chiba, so I send ‘em there for Mina to get whenever she stops by.”

“So I need to go to Chiba to find her?” Shouto confirms, desperation seeping into his words.

Niwa stares at him. Then roughly pats his head.

“Ah!” Shouto’s head bobs with the motion, and he peers up at her in confusion.

“Yeah,” Niwa grins, “And when you do, tell her there’s a heap of people right worried ‘bout her.”

Midoriya keeps glancing at him in a way he must think is subtle as Shouto trots after him, stopping to wave one final time. Shouto ignores him, pulling the journal out and noting down that he would find Ashido in Chiba. After a second’s consideration, he begins listing down the rest of his classmates names.

He stumbles a bit when he gets to Koda, unsure of his first name – that would be the first thing Shouto figured out when he found him again. But he’s also fairly certain Koda had been there, since Shouto recalls a hoard of mice charging forth.

Charging forth?  The boy’s brow wrinkles and he flinches slightly at the onslaught of blurry images that pop into his head.

Right, we were in a fight…

Shouto shakes the fuzzy memory away. A slow understanding of what had happened before he entered this world has been starting to take shape for a while now, but he won’t have a clear idea until the final piece of the puzzle clicks into place.

He writes “My Classmates” as the title, but then scratches out ‘classmates’ and writes ‘friends.’ These are his friends, and he’s going to find all of them.

“Um… hey, Shouto-kun?”

Midoriya is wringing his hands, giving him the side-glance again, in a way achingly reminiscent of his other self. Shouto stares at him consideringly, tapping his chin with the pen.

Ah, that’s right, I guess I do have you already. Nodding once, resolutely, he crosses out Midoriya’s name. Said boy gulps audibly.

“Ah, okay, so… I just, wanted to know what the whole ‘following me’ thing was about?”

Shouto cocks his head. “Ah, do you perhaps not like being followed?”

Well, he does know Bakugou hates when he’s not the one leading, and while the two of them are quite similar at their cores, their behaviours are completely different.

“If you want, I can walk in front,” Shouto says, taking a few quick strides, “But I’m not sure where we’re going, so you’ll have to inform me.”

“Wha– No! Nothing like that, I don’t even… Uh, Shouto-kun, don’t you have anywhere else to be? Oh Lord that sounded so rude–”

Shouto gives Midoriya a minute to work himself out of his self-created panic.

“What I mean is, shouldn’t you be headed home? Aren’t your parents worried?”

Shouto actually has to hold back a scoff at that. Don’t get irate, this Midoriya doesn’t know.

“I mean, you got involved in something as dangerous as a bandit attack, and now you're following a stranger– Not that I’m a bad guy!”

Midoriya’s speech dissolves into mutters, and Shouto experiences a moment of intense fondness, before crushing it and reminding himself not to act too familiar.

“There’s no need to worry, it’s not like you’re any older than me,” he says, shutting the journal and slipping it back into his pouch.

Midoriya blinks, then looks away and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “O-Oh? I guess I assumed since Hatsume-san kept calling you ‘kid’… Wait, more importantly,”

At this, Midoriya comes to a complete stop, forcing Shouto to halt as well.

“I’m not sure why you’ve decided to follow me around, but it’s important that you know I’m not just a knight-in-training, but also an adventurer, so it’s not safe.”

It’s the most firm this Midoriya has been since Shouto met him, yet the worry rubs him the wrong way.

“I can hold my own,” he snaps. But can he really? Just one fight leaves him panting, and his fire is still locked away. His mind unwillingly flashes to his softer body, and thinner limbs.

“I can look after myself,” he amends, clenching his fists.

Midoriya makes a weird expression, then sighs as if dealing with a rebellious child. “It’s not fun and games Shouto-kun, life as an adventurer is much more dangerous–”

“Why?”

“ –than most people understand… I’m sorry, did you just ask why?”

“What’s so dangerous about being an adventurer?” Shouto asks petulantly, mostly because he hasn’t a clue what an ‘adventurer’ actually is.

As if the question had lit a fire in him, Midoriya shoots off, rapidly detailing the elaborate circumstances adventurers may find themselves in, and the many ways they could be dismembered or killed in the process.

While Shouto is now aware of the 51 different ways a Sneaking Viper Vine can capture and immobilize him for its consumption, he is no closer to understanding what exactly an adventurer is.

“So an adventurer is a type of pretend knight?” He interrupts.

“No! What in God’s name gave you that idea?” Midoriya cries, seemingly at some sort of breaking point. “I’m a real knight– wait I mean, knight-in-training.”

They both sigh at the same time, Shouto internally and Midoriya out loud. It’s difficult to communicate, doubly so due to the huge gap in knowledge. Shouto frowns. To think he’d been so sure all his problems would disappear when he found Midoriya.

“Shouto-kun, listen… I really am a knight-in-training, but since I don’t attend a formal academy this whole adventurer thing provides both experience and money for living expenses. I’m not sure what you want by following me–”

“I want you.”

“ –but I can’t… Eh?!”

Midoriya turns red rapidly. Shouto blinks in confusion, then shakes his head in understanding. “Oh, not like that, I’m not interested.”

Midoriya somehow turns redder, and Shouto wonders if he sounded rude.

“Sorry,” he adds. “In any case, you seem very strong, so I would like to follow you.”

That was a good excuse, strong people, either physically, mentally, or emotionally, tend to be charismatic. Midoriya has the bonus of being all three. Said boy scrunches his eyes and roughly drags a hand through his curls.

“Mmmmmrgh it would be hypocritical of me to deny you after the opportunity my mentor gave me… Ok, fine, we can form a party. But as soon as you feel it’s too dangerous or too much to handle,” Midoriya looks at him intently. “You are free to go back. Please go back, because your health wouldn’t be worth it.”

Shouto smiles under his hood, straightening. “I’ll be fine.”

Midoriya makes the effort to smile too, albeit shakily. “Right, okay. Wait actually, there’s something important about where we’re going–”

“Midoriya,” Shouto cuts in, before the other boy can voice anymore arguments, “I said I’ll be fine. No matter where we’re going, I can handle it.”

It is not fine.

“I don’t think I can handle this,” Shouto announces, attempting to pull Midoriya away from the ominous gates. The teen doesn’t budge. Really, how has he never noticed how strong Midoriya is? It’s probably those damned muscles, Shouto is going to start doing push-ups every morning in this world.

In any case, Midoriya is giving him the funny look, as if he isn’t the one being senseless.

“This place has pest problems,” Shouto protests. “Have you heard of the hideous roach that wanders the halls?”

“Shouto-kun,” Midoriya sighs, holding up a scroll that prompts the guards to unlock the gate. “Why would there be pests in the royal palace? The King of Endeavor lives here.”

“So you have heard of it!”

Midoriya nods at the bemused guards and marches in. “As I said, you don’t need to come with me.”

But Shouto is already running to catch up to the other boy, because now he definitely can’t let Midoriya out of his sight.

Crap, Shouto pulls his hood lower, Not even a day and I’m already back here again.

The clanging of the gates closing behind them is ominous, as Shouto follows Midoriya back into the lion’s den.

Chapter Text

“That wasn’t nice,” he says, grabbing her by the middle and lifting her into the air. She flails. He snatches the wallet back, avoiding her haywire limbs.

He sighs. “I told you. I might still be in-training, but I am a hero.”

He’s dealt with an entire class full of rebellious children, one child is easy to catch in comparison.

“You shouldn’t steal,” he admonishes. She bares her teeth, and he narrowly dodges a bite.

“How self-right-us. Some of us need a way to live,” she spits, pronunciation off but intent clear. He frowns.

“Okay, I understand. But you can’t have this one.” He sets her down, giving her a look and flashing his ice when she tries to bolt. “This belongs to an old granny who was on her way to send money to her grandchild. He’s been very sick since he was a baby.”

She pouts. “Don’t care,” she says, though she doesn’t meet his eyes. He nods.

“That’s alright. Just remember that everyone has a story, like you.” He peeks at her expression, then pats her head hesitantly. “You know, my father is very rich.”

Instantly she scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He reaches into his jumpsuit to pull out his own wallet. “He’s also mean. So I took his money. It’s in here.”

Her expression turns confused. He smiles. “I don’t think he would notice or care that it’s gone. That’s his story.”

Realization dawns on her face. She hesitantly reaches out, then swipes it out of his hand. He watches as she races off, thinking that he probably shouldn’t be encouraging such behaviour as a hero.

But, well. The faint sound of laughter has him thinking it can’t be all bad.

The next day, he would return to the same alley upon realizing his provisional license had been in the wallet too. To his surprise, she would already be there, waiting for him. He’s still not sure why she came back, but it wouldn’t be the last time they met here, in this narrow alley, to crouch behind the crates and talk.

The world is fuzzy.

It comes into focus slowly, like waking from a restful nap. It's a familiar sensation.

The first thing he feels is warmth engulfing his hand. Groggily, he runs his fingers through the softness, but it stiffens then flails. The next thing he knows, it disappears, and his hand drops to the mattress.

Mattress?

Shouto sits up swiftly, only to clutch the sheets as a wave of dizziness washes over him. For a second he wonders if he’s woken up after a time skip, but he’s not nauseous or feverish at all. He’s mostly just bone-achingly tired, as if all his energy had been sapped and he’s running on the bare minimum.

“You're awake.”

Shouto stiffens, instinctively ducking down so his hair covers his face. His current situation floods back into his brain, the realization that he’s in the palace right now computing.

And that voice is one he recognizes.

“Oh none of that, Shou-chan. Are you feeling alright?” Fuyumi asks, settling down on the edge of the bed. Shouto’s head whips up.

“That–”

Fuyumi holds a hand up to silence him. In her arms, burrowed as if trying to hide, is the cat.

“Don’t worry, nobody knows you’re here. Your friend doesn’t know about you either.”

Her expression is so neutral that Shouto is almost scared. He’s knows second-hand from Natsuo that Fuyumi can be terrifying when she’s mad, especially if it’s out of worry. And with how he left, he definitely made her worry. Her hand raises, and Shouto squeezes his eyes, ready for the slap.

“I’m so glad! Just what in God’s name were you doing to deplete your mana like that?!”

She yanks him into her chest for a tight hug. Shouto manages to free his face, gasping for air as he unconsciously hugs back.

“I– I’m sorry?”

“Oh no, don’t apologize,” Fuyumi says, pulling back to cup his cheek. It’s such an intimate action that it startles him for a moment, but he recalls that the prince is closer to his (their?) siblings. He wonders how he should explain what he’s doing, where he should start.

He meets her gaze, unsure of what to say but certain something is better than nothing.

Fuyumi beats him to it. Her eyebrows slant down, eyes wide and concerned. “But Shouto, why did you come back?”

The prince had told Fuyumi they would run away. Not just Fuyumi, but their mother. And – the image of their mysterious ally flashing through his mind – perhaps a few others. It’s not bad, extremely convenient actually.

The thought of telling someone else had never even crossed Shouto’s mind, yet the prince had done so without preamble. Shouto wonders why. Is he a mistrustful person? He knows now that depending on others isn’t a weakness, but it had been so natural to shoulder everything himself.

He glances down at the cat, held fast in Fuyumi arms as she explains the current situation in the palace. He couldn’t even properly trust his only ally.

That needs to change. They need to talk.

“Fuyumi-nee,” Shouto interrupts softly. She’d explained that the king had taken his disappearance much more seriously than any of them had anticipated, and is even in the process of gathering a search party to follow the ‘kidnapper’s’ trail. Furthermore, it seems that communication is lacking, with no response from other nations about keeping an eye out for the youngest prince and his kidnapper.

“Nothing but silence from Yuuei. Father was upset but too prideful to send a diplomat in case it looked like he was begging for their help,” Fuyumi had sighed. That statement nagged at him, but it is something to ponder later.

“I feel better now, so can I have a moment to get dressed?” Shouto tries. It’s an odd excuse, especially since he’s only been stripped of his pouch and cloak, but Fuyumi merely smiles and drops the cat in his lap.

“I’ll go check on your friend then. He’s staying right down the hall.” And with that, she breezes out the door.

Shouto stares after her for a moment.

“It’s good that the prince told Fuyumi,” he says.

“I think I overexerted myself. I was probably only running on the mana from the plants.”

The cat untenses at his casual tone, but remains sitting as still as possible in his lap.

“Am I awake now because of you? Thanks for letting me borrow your mana,” Shouto continues, undeterred. The cat still doesn’t respond, curled away and unresponsive.

Like a sullen child.

“I’m not mad. I never was,” Shouto says, “You have a habit of running away when you think someone is upset. That’s not good, Ruba.”

The cat, who isn’t really a cat, startles. Her tail shoots up, hackles raising, but Shouto won’t let her get away this time. He flops onto his stomach, holding her in front of his face.

With this, they’re at the same level. Just like before.

‘… How did you figure it out?’  She asks, sounding a strange mix of relieved and scared.

“You’re a bit obvious,” Shouto says, unable to hold back the note of fondness in his voice.

“But also, I’m remembering bits and pieces of what happened that night.”

Ruba’s ears press back, tail curled tight against her body.

Shouto runs a hand through her fur, rubbing circles against her back. “I told you, I’m not mad.”

‘They made me do it,’  she says, quivering.

“I understand.”

‘I didn’t want to.’

Shouto nods.

‘… I’m sorry.’

It sounds so tiny. If her voice wasn’t directly projected into his head, perhaps she would’ve whispered it under her breath, so quiet he wouldn’t have heard.

“I know you are. You’ve been tiptoeing around me ever since I woke up in this world.” Shouto rolls onto his back, lifting her into the air. He’s never really been one to offer comfort through touch. It’s such unfamiliar territory, and yet he knows best how pleasant it can be. So without further hesitation, he hugs her tight.

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve paid more attention.”

He can feel Ruba shake her head against his shoulder. ‘No, you didn’t know. I never told you anything, I should’ve told you, I really wanted to–‘

“You’re a child,” Shouto says. Words he’s heard before, words he used to tell himself some late nights when he couldn’t sleep. “You shouldn’t have to look after adults.”

They lie there for a few minutes. Something in Shouto’s chest unfurls, the mystery of his presence here finally answered. He hadn’t realized how much weight those questions had carried until they’d been answered, the burden of the unknown lightening.

Then Ruba snorts. Quiet and a bit watery.

‘You’re not an adult, Shouto-san.’

Shouto blinks. “Oh. You’re right.”

The snort turns into a snicker, which becomes full-blown giggles. Shouto smiles.

He isn’t alone. He never was – Ruba’s been by his side since the beginning.

Ruba had grown embarrassed after calming down. He never knew cats could cry, but that on top of sharing her mana with him had her weary enough to eventually doze off. He’d taken it as his cue to go see Fuyumi and Midoriya.

Shouto pads down the hall, until chatter on the other side of a door lets him know this is his destination.

“Onee— um, Fuyumi-san?” Shouto peeks through the door. He has his pouch and cloak back on, hood hiding his face once more.

Belatedly, Shouto realizes he should’ve knocked – he’s not supposed to be so comfortable here, after all.  

“Shouto-kun, you can’t refer to the princess so informally!” Midoriya squeaks, startling. He’s seated on the divan across from Fuyumi, and jumps up to bow deeply.

“I beg your pardon Your Highness! My companion is not well-versed in etiquette.”

Fuyumi shoots Shouto a secretive but amused smile over Midoriya's folded figure. “It’s quite alright, I expect he is still recovering from that dreadful fainting spell. Please, sit.”

Shouto sits, and after a moment Midoriya does as well. Despite the refreshments spread invitingly on the low table, Midoriya sits ramrod straight with his hands in his lap, a stiff mirror of Fuyumi’s more relaxed demeanor. It’s obvious who is of authority. Shouto attempts to mimic the tense set of Midoriya's shoulders so he comes off as not-royal too.

“Are you alright?” Midoriya whispers suddenly, giving him a worried side-glance. It’s such a familiar gesture that Shouto nods without thinking.

“Since both of you are present, I shall get straight to the point,” Fuyumi says, bringing their attention back to her.

“I was the one who put in the request at the guild.”

Midoriya nods, likely having deduced as much. Shouto nods too, though he hasn’t a clue what a guild is.

“Yes, a request from royalty is rarely sent through regular means, so the guild was unable to call higher level members promptly. But please rest assured, I should be capable. I was sent by All Might personally,” Midoriya states, sounding a little jittery. Shouto’s eyebrows raise. All Might.

Fuyumi tilts her head. “Not ‘I should,’ but ‘I am.’ I’ve heard good things about you, Deku, squire of All Might.”

Midoriya immediately flares red. Shouto can almost see steam rising from his face as he waves his hands frantically. “Um, wow, I am still gaining experience independently so I would not say I am his squire yet– not to be presumptuous! I would hate to sound entitled to the position–”

Fuyumi and Shouto share an awkward glance. Shouto nudges Midoriya roughly.

“Oof! Uh, what I mean is, I will definitely do my best to help Your Highness!” Midoriya’s face is still flushed, but his eyes shine with determination. Fuyumi blinks, expression softening. Shouto smiles almost imperceptibly.

“Then I place my trust in you, Deku,” Fuyumi says, closing her eyes.

“You see, the reason for my request is my younger brother.”

Shouto’s knee jerks, accidentally hitting the table. Midoriya startles again, turning to him with a clear question mark over his head. Fuyumi gives him a look that says idiot, not you. Right, the request had been put in before he ran away.

“… These are tasty,” Shouto mumbles, grabbing the biscuits that had tumbled off the plate and shoving them in his mouth. They taste incredible. He scarfs down a few more. He'd forgotten how hungry he was...

Midoriya’s expression turns horrified. He starts spewing apologies.

Fuyumi smiles tightly, visibly resisting the urge to sigh. Shouto avoids her eyes, chewing absently.

“… Specifically, the Second Prince who is currently attending Kisdurelle,” Fuyumi continues, folding her hands. Shouto perks up. Natsuo?

“Oh, the most elite knight academy, famous for its talented instructors and rigorous curriculum,” Midoriya exclaims, brightening, “It was my dream to go there when I was younger!”

“What’s the matter with the Second Prince?” Shouto interrupts, frowning.

“Oh, nothing I hope,” Fuyumi says, pressing her lips together, “we haven’t heard from him in a while. I know it sounds silly, he must be busy with academics and training, but it’s been almost half a year since we’ve gotten a reply to any of our letters…”

“So this is a check-up request?” Midoriya asks empathetically. “We?”

“Oh, my mother and youngest brother have been worried as well,” Fuyumi clarifies, glancing at Shouto. “And yes, I suppose it is. It’s very simple, but if I am to be honest, I was not sure if guild requests would even come through. So I would appreciate if you could investigate whether the lack of letters might be an issue on the palace’s part.”

Shouto listens to all of this, nose scrunching as he thinks. Unconsciously, his hand drifts up to clutch the necklace under his cloak.

“… I don’t think it’s just the palace,” he says slowly. “I think Endeavor as a whole might be experiencing issues with mail.”

“What do you mean?” Midoriya asks.

“Niwa. She says she hasn’t been receiving letters either. And Hatsume. She mentioned something about her post being intercepted.”

Fuyumi stares questioningly, the names unfamiliar to her, but Midoriya’s eyes widen.

“If guild requests are coming through just fine… No way, could the Mail Organization be experiencing issues?”

Even as he says it, he sounds disbelieving. Shouto meets Fuyumi’s gaze just as it hardens.

“Then allow me to add one more thing to my request. Deku, find the reason there are issues with the mail in Endeavor and report it back to me,” she orders. Her face is serious, and Shouto recalls what she’d mentioned about the king’s rage over Yuuei’s lack of response. Perhaps this seemingly innocuous communication problem could be more dangerous than he’d anticipated.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Midoriya stands, bowing, and that concludes their meeting.

“You need to mind your manners,” Fuyumi says, sitting beside Shouto on the guestroom bed. “You were very informal, it would have been considered insulting to anyone else.”

Shouto hums, gathering Ruba in his arms. He’ll keep that in mind, though he’s not sure how he was being rude.

Fuyumi sighs fondly, dropping her own manners now that it’s just the two of them again. “Anyway, take off your hood and turn around.”

She doesn’t wait for him, tugging it down her self and pulling his hair loose. She begins gently combing through the tangles. “Oh my, I didn’t think you could tie your hair so nicely yourself.”

Shouto lets his eyes fall shut, relaxing into her touch. “Someone did it for me.”

Fuyumi’s hands still. “… I’m glad, they sound like a good person.”

She tugs the strands over his ears like usual, something Shouto is starting to think might be a cultural thing. “But remember to keep these hidden, especially while you’re in Endeavor. And do not to deplete yourself like that again.”

Shouto stares at the pattern on the wallpaper. He doesn’t want to make promises he isn’t sure he can keep. Fuyumi exhales softly, head tilting.

“You know, you were so quiet when you were born.” She continues to tug at his hair, braiding it instead of just tying it off.

“I was so excited, hoping you would be a girl,” she says, clearly lost in memory, “I was hiding by the door, trying to catch a glimpse of the new baby.”

Shouto isn’t sure how to respond. Should he say sorry?

“If you’re thinking you need to apologize for being a boy, please don’t,” Fuyumi giggles.

“Whatever you were, it didn’t matter. I was just very excited, even more than for Natsuo’s birth. Maybe it’s because I was older. Regardless, I stood outside that door. But instead of crying, I heard the murmuring of the nurses.”

“’He’s not breathing,’ and ‘He’s so still,’ and ‘What do we do?’” Fuyumi quotes, voice thick, “It was the first time I had ever seen Mother so devastated.”

“But then, all of a sudden, a cough. And a gurgle. And then you’re wailing louder than a banshee!” Fuyumi narrates, a familiarity to the way she emphasizes her words that makes Shouto think this isn’t the first time she’s told this story to him, to the prince.

“Everyone was so surprised. ‘It’s a miracle!’ they said. ‘God’s child!’” Fuyumi ties the end of the small braid, letting his hair slip out of her grasp.

“And no matter what anyone says now, you’ll always be our little miracle.”

Shouto’s face feels hot. The rumours surrounding him were convenient, yet they’d still bothered him the few times he’d been exposed to them. He can’t imagine how the prince would’ve felt, growing up with them over his head. A small child whom even the maids fled from – it would be hard to feel wanted, to feel that their existence wasn’t wrong.

Fuyumi turns his head to meet his eyes.

“I trust you and whatever plan is baking in that head of yours, but I still worry. Please stay safe.”

Shouto stares back. For a second, he’s kneeling at the dinner table back home, and Fuyumi is in a regular cable knit sweater, glasses perched on her nose. But just as quickly he is brought back to reality... this reality.

“Okay, onee-chan,” he whispers.

Fuyumi holds him for a second longer, then lets go to toss something in his lap. Shouto fumbles with Ruba, freeing one hand to clumsily pick up the tin. He examines it curiously.

“Wax dye,” Fuyumi smirks, wiggling black-stained fingers, “it’s a little more resilient than soot, but it’ll wash off if you rinse properly.”

Shouto tugs a lock of hair into view. It’s pitch black, not longer faded.

“Thanks Fuyumi,” he says sincerely, slipping it into his pouch. Then Fuyumi throws another thing at him.

“The comb. Just because you’re on the run doesn’t mean you shouldn’t maintain your hygiene. And money, is this much gold enough? Actually I think having bronze and silver would be good too, and maybe take some more gold because you never know if you might need to bribe someone. You have your ice for water, but I figured a waterskin would be good to have anyway, and I couldn’t get my hands on anything non-perishable but it might be a good idea to have some eating utensils handy–”

“F-Fuyumi, please hand them over normally–”

“Shouto-kun, could you maybe speak more politely next time?” Midoriya says, scratching his cheek. “My heart palpitated multiple times during that meeting and I think I might have sprouted some grey hairs could you maybe check– ah, but if it’s that you’re not sure about proper etiquette, perhaps just leave the talking to me?”

Shouto stares straight ahead, rubbing his forehead. It still smarts from that wayward fork.

“You sound like Fuyumi,” he mutters, adjusting his grip on the still sleeping Ruba in his arms. Midoriya jolts, making sure they’re alone before rambling about how inappropriate it is to refer to any nobility so familiarly, let alone royalty.

Their footsteps echo in the eerily quiet hall. Shouto has never left the palace through the main entrance – not that he’d ever been allowed to leave to begin with. Having been unconscious on their way in, he takes the time to observe the sweeping architecture and intricate decoration of the entrance hall. A boast and warning to any who should visit: the kingdom of Endeavor has wealth, it has class, and it has power.

The brilliant red carpet shimmers like liquid fire under their feet, the ceiling so high above their heads it’s easy to forget it’s there. However despite the grandeur, it’s suffocating. Shouto is glad his mother – and by extension her children – kept to the West Wing, where things are a little tamer.

“Such formalities are tedious,” Shouto sighs without thinking, and then he pauses. The words had just fallen out of his mouth, not that he disagreed with them. Perhaps a bit of the prince is seeping through.

Midoriya frowns. “Maybe, but it’s the principle of the matter.”

“Luckily, I don’t think the princess hated it. For all your social ignorance and, frankly blasphemous behaviour, you get along quite well with others.”

Shouto thinks Midoriya is hardly one to talk, with the way he quite literally fights his way into many people’s hearts, Shouto’s included. Then again, it’s not like this Midoriya knew anything about that.

“You even know about Niwa-san’s personal troubles despite meeting her for the first time,” Midoriya continues. “I myself have only known you for a day!”

Then he pauses, as if realizing how his words sounded. Shouto fidgets with his necklace, realizing that what was a failed reunion for him is a brand new encounter for this Midoriya.

“It’s not that we’re close… We just have a mutual acquaintance. I’m supposed to give this to her,” Shouto explains offhandedly, pulling the pendant into view.

“And it’s not like we’re that close either.” Just saying it stings, but it’s a fact. Shouto squares his shoulders defensively.

It’s quiet for the next dozen steps. Midoriya bites his lip, glancing at Shouto.

“Hey, uh,” he pulls a necklace of his own out from under his tunic. Dangling from the end of the thin golden chain is a glowing viridian orb.

“My mom gave it to me, before I left my hometown,” Midoriya explains, smiling slightly in memory, “she says it’s so I know I can always come back home, no matter what.”

“… Okay?” Shouto says.

“Ah!” Midoriya tucks his necklace back in embarrassment. “Well, it doesn’t really matter.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I just thought, yknow, we match. Or something like that, ah ha ha ha...”

Shouto watches Midoriya cringe at his own attempt to forge a connection whilst muttering incoherently. But his effort warms Shouto’s chest      .

“Okay,” Shouto says lightly, lips twisting. “Let’s be friends, Midoriya.”

Midoriya startles to attention, before grinning widely. “Of course! But Shouto-kun you didn’t already consider us friends–?”

Midoriya trails off as loud thudding reverberates down the hall, the sound of many stomping feet. They both whip around to the sight of guards approaching. A large group strides towards them, clearly returning from somewhere. The clanging of their metal armour is deafening, but worst of all, leading them with arrogant pomp is–

Every time. Every time.

“It’s the roach,” Shouto hisses. Midoriya’s soul visibly leaves his body as the king stops to stare at them down his nose. Midoriya drops to his knee hard, bowing low. Shouto winces in sympathy, until Midoriya yanks him down to kneel as well.

“Ow–”

“We greet His Majesty, Sun of the Kingdom of Endeavor!” Midoriya digs his nails into Shouto’s arm. Shouto pouts, wondering if this is revenge for elbowing him earlier. His other arm withdraws under his cloak, hiding Ruba from sight.

The silence is tense as Shouto feels the king appraising them, likely wondering if they were worth his time. Despite the defiance in his attitude earlier, Shouto’s insides quake with the memory of being hunted down just a few days ago. He bites the inside of his cheek hard to prevent his undisciplined body from trembling. Any sign of weakness would be crushed immediately.

The air seems to grow hotter with every passing second. The hand gripping him trembles, but Midoriya remains firm and outwardly composed. This calms Shouto down, and he exhales softly while cooling the air around them. He will not submit to this overwhelming pressure.

“State your name and business,” Enji finally booms. “ I advise against any attempts to lie. We are investigating an intruder and will not take grievances lightly.”

Midoriya stiffens. “Y-Yes! I am Midoriya Izuku, an adventurer here by the request of Her Highness the First Princess! A-And, this is my companion–”

“Ruba!” Shouto interrupts, almost shouting. Midoriya tilts his head to discretely look at him in aghast. Shouto pretends not to see.

“I am Ruba.”

Shouto peeks up. The king’s nose wrinkles as he glares at them.

“What does Fuyumi need that she must call on the guild?”

Midoriya audibly gulps. “That is, uh, she would like us to check-up on His Highness the Second Prince since they have been out of contact recently.”

Enji scoffs, sharp and cruel. “How pointless, to waste time over something so trivial.”

Shouto silently praises Midoriya for withholding their secondary mission. The other boy is already bristling over Enji’s harsh dismissal of Fuyumi’s worries. He can at least take solace in the fact that his father’s royal status would be enough to deter Midoriya from speaking out so easily. While this would probably be infuriating in any other context, right now it would do no good to get on Enji’s nerves, especially with Shouto – quite literally – right under his nose.

Not that it’s completely unavoidable.

“Hmph,” the king sneers, “You are a foreigner.”

“Yes?” Midoriya’s brows furrow under his mop of hair. “I mean, I was born in the small town of Sumu in Yuuei. So no, I am not a citizen of Endeavor.”

Enji’s lip curls. Without warning, his attention switches to Shouto. Shouto suppresses a shiver.

“And you, boy?”

“I’m from Endeavor,” Shouto answers warily, aware that he’s on extremely thin ice right now.

“Where?” Enji’s eyes narrow. Shouto clenches his fists. It’s fine, there’s no way he knows.

“I’m also from a small town.”

“The name,” he demands, growling now.

“Uh,” Shouto feels a bead of sweat trail down his back, “Soba.”

The carpet is surprisingly soft under his fingers, Shouto finds. He wonders what will happen first: Midoriya’s eyebrows raising so high they fall of his face, or Enji’s eyebrows dropping so low they become part of his moustache.

“You probably haven’t– have not heard of it. Very backwater village,” Shouto offers, uncomfortably aware that he should stop talking. Well, it’s not like the king would have every town in Endeavor memorized, especially Enji.

“Take off your hood boy,” he orders finally, because of course he would change the subject instead of admit to not knowing something.

“I cannot do that,” Shouto blurts out. Midoriya pinches him hard, eyes bugging with a silent and imploring what the hell dude?

Well, perhaps not those exact words, but Shouto can’t afford to be distracted when he sees Enji’s eyes flash.

“Who are you to hide your face in my presence?!” The king booms.

“It’s against my religion,” Shouto says.

He has no idea what’s coming out of his mouth. At this point, he is completely, thoroughly, utterly bullshitting.

“Rural areas tend to be more conservative, as I am certain you are aware of… Your Majesty,” Shouto courageously withholds a grimace, “I have been told I have the image of a demon, and thus must hide this shameful appearance. I would never tarnish Your Majesty’s eyes with such a horrid visage.”

Well… It’s not like he’s lying. There are plenty of rumours going around about the monstrous Third Prince. What was it? Two forsaken babies stitched together or something along those lines.

Shouto risks a glance up. Midoriya appears to be actively disassociating. Enji looks an odd mix of angry, befuddled, and intrigued.

“You claim you are too ugly to look at?”

“Yes,” Shouto nods, “I get it from my father, you see. Hideous creature, he is. Truly a thing of nightmares.”

Enji’s forehead wrinkles. But before their dangerous conversation can continue, one of the guards interjects.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I believe you have a council meeting.”

Shouto’s eyes widen at the sight of silver hair and embellishments speaking of a high rank.

It’s the man who was supposed to train me. Or I guess, he’s already trained me?

The king seems to shake out of whatever stupor came over him.

“Must be a non-human,” he hisses under his breath, and without so much as a farewell he breezes by, a clear dismissal. Shouto and Midoriya remain kneeling as the guards pass, some peering at Shouto curiously.

Once the clank of armour fades, Shouto gasps. He heaves for breathe, unaware he’d been holding it.

“Mother of God, what were you– Shouto? Are you okay?!”

Midoriya rubs up and down his spine soothingly. Shouto attempts to nod, but it’s probably overshadowed by his panting. All the trembling he’d held back surges through his limbs, and he takes a moment to hug Ruba to his chest, pressing his face against her fur. She stirs, but doesn’t wake thankfully – he’d find himself with a face full of claws instead.

They stay there, collapsed in the middle of the grandiose hallway, until Shouto’s heart rate returns to normal. He didn’t think interacting with the king would affect him this much. Unless…

No, there is no reason for this sort of response to come from the prince’s end. After all, the prince had hardly ever interacted with Enji, right?

“I’m fine,” Shouto exhales, shakily getting to his feet. “I’m fine.”

Midoriya doesn’t look convinced at all. “First, let’s get out of here.”

Shouto sighs softly as the palace gates slam closed behind them. Despite the surprise encounter with his father, the visit had gone better than expected. But he hardly has time to bask in their success before Midoriya is rounding on him.

“Shouto-kun, what’s going on?”

Shouto chews on in the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he can postpone this conversation, pretend he’s too woozy to properly respond–

“At this rate, I’m going to have to put my foot down and say you can’t come with me,” Midoriya says firmly, and, well, Shouto can’t have that.

But, what does he say? He can’t very well reveal his status as prince, not when he’s assumed kidnapped. Midoriya would send him straight back, and yet he can’t very well dismiss those claims because once Shouto leaves this world, they are the prince’s ticket back to the palace without being seen as a traitor or deserter.

Plus, as much as he hates to admit it, Shouto doesn’t really… He just doesn’t…

Well, this isn’t his Midoriya. And he can’t guarantee this one would be understanding enough to believe him should he tell the truth, let alone keep it a secret.

“… The king of Endeavor is very… intolerant,” he offers slowly, and remembers Enji’s words: non-human.

“He would have immediately suspected me. He’s already on edge, I didn’t want my appearance to announce my non-human status.” Though he ended up assuming that in the end, Shouto finishes silently.

Midoriya’s face immediately softens. “Oh… no wonder you and Niwa-san bonded so quickly. And the fake name… I’m assuming you hid it for the same reasons?”

“Something like that,” Shouto responds.

Midoriya quirks his lips to the side, appearing troubled. “I see… Would you like me to call you Ruba, then?”

He sounds so gentle. Shouto grins slightly, pushing down the guilt from taking advantage of the discrimination non-humans seemed to face.

“Oh no, feel free to call me Shouto. Ruba is my cat’s name.”

Midoriya’s responding grin is much more nervous. “W-Was that your… brother’s name?”

His questions ends in a decidedly higher pitch, voice cracking. Shouto huffs in amusement, shaking his head.

“Not at all. Also, Ruba here is a girl.”

Midoriya blinks, then snorts, and the tension breaks. “Got it.”

They begin the walk back to the capital. With his back turned to the palace, Shouto takes the opportunity to lower his hood and lets the late afternoon breeze cool him. The thick mana-filled air had hit him as soon as they’d passed the gates, and he lets it wash off the last of his shaken nerves. Midoriya gives him a side-glance.

“I guess that explains your hood,” he stretches his arms into the air, joints clicking, “In any case, we won’t be in Central Endeavor for long, so I guess this won’t be an issue in the near future. Just one more thing then, Shouto-kun.”

Midoriya’s glance turns into an assessing look. “You don’t happen to have any medical conditions, do you? You scared me, collapsing as soon as we entered the palace.”

Shouto stills. He… forgot about that. Well, it’s a valid question, one he supposes he can answer a little more truthfully.

“It’s my… mana,” he lifts his left hand, flexing it, “I think I drained it without realizing, and ended up eventually collapsing.”

Midoriya’s nose scrunches, mouth falling open. “You drained your mana… without realizing?”

Well, putting it like that sounded odd. Shouto presses his fingers together, examining his nails to avoid meeting Midoriya’s gaze.

“… I’ve been having issues with my mana well. I was on… medication, for a bit. I’m off it now, yet my mana is still being suppressed. I think that might have something to do with it?”

Midoriya’s expression turns gentle in that sympathetic way once more. He likely believes the suppression also has to do with trying to live under the radar in Endeavor as a ‘non-human.’

What even constitutes as a ‘non-human’? Shouto wonders, since Midoriya seems to be deep in thought as well. Did that mean, say, fish were forbidden?

That’s not it, Shouto immediately backtracks. What had Midoriya said Niwa was?

A dark elf. Elf… like the kind that make toys for Santa Claus? Niwa does not look anything like what he’d seen in Christmas movies, but perhaps that’s because he hasn’t seen that many. He’d only watched a few for the first time ever last Christmas, in the dorms with Class A. He is by no means an expert, but… is Christmas even a thing in this world?

“Midoriya, do you know who Santa Claus is?”

“What?” Midoriya startles out of his thoughts. “No… Could that be your brother’s name?”

“Nevermind,” Shouto says, “What were you thinking about?”

Midoriya fiddles with his necklace, “I don’t mean to be meddlesome, but I have a friend who could take a look at you, maybe diagnose what’s up with your mana.”

Shouto is surprised at how earnest he is. He’d figured the lack of his fire would just be something he had to deal with, but if Midoriya’s friend could help…

“What about your mission?” He asks.

“It’s not a problem, her village is on the way!” Midoriya exclaims leaning forward, only to retreat just as quickly. “It’s just… this might put you off, but she’s a witch.”

Shouto cocks his head. Why would that put him off? “I would be very grateful if your friend could examine me.”

Midoriya brightens immediately, seemingly happier than Shouto himself that his mana issue could potentially be solved. Shouto’s own lips quirk up. Well, no matter the world, Midoriya would always cheer him up.

In any case, a witch… “Is your friend not human?”

Midoriya raises an eyebrow. “She’s a human. Most witches are, but it’s interesting that you seem to have met one of a different species.”

Shouto has not, but it’s a little too late to correct Midoriya’s assumption. So witches are not-not-human. He is severely lacking in knowledge about witches too, honestly. They are a Halloween thing, aren’t they? But if Christmas doesn’t exist in this world… Ah that’s right! There are witches in literature too, like when they looked at one of Present Mic’s favourite plays in English class…

“Midoriya, do you know who Shakespeare is?”

“Is that your bro–”

“No.”

Chapter Text

King Enji’s boots pound against the hallway floor, just as loud even after leaving the commander to assign the guards back to their duties, with doubled security. His servants drop into bows when he strides past, as they should. He will not tolerate any mishaps after their pathetic blunder just a few days ago.

When he reaches his destination, he rips the door open without preamble. Fuyumi startles at her desk, jumping up to greet him with a bow. At least the damn girl hasn’t lost all her senses.

“Father, you frightened me. Please knock next time,” she says, lifting her head. Enji scowls.

“I own this land, I may do whatever I please,” he glowers, towering over her, “But for some reason, you seem to think you can too.”

Fuyumi frowns minutely, tilting her head in the perfect picture of confusion. “Whatever do you mean, Father?”

Enji slams a fist against the doorway. Fuyumi flinches, averting her gaze. Good, so she is still aware of who he is.

“I just came across two little rats scampering through my halls,” he thunders, watching as she pales.

“It– It was me, Your Majesty. I called for them quite a bit ago, since I was worried about Natsuo,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “I just gave them my latest letter, is all.”

Enji’s eyes narrow.

“And you chose to call upon foreign brats?”

“I have no choice in who the guild sends,” Fuyumi quickly defends, wringing her hands, “Besides, one of them is from Endeavor.”

Enji sneers. Got you.

“Endeavor,” he states more than asks, coolly watching as Fuyumi bites her lip. “Their name?”

The girl hesitates, clearly flustered, and that’s when Enji knows his prickle of suspicion is right.

“… Mira,” Fuyumi says, quickly adding, “They’re about the same age as the commander’s son.”

“I see,” Enji says.

He turns away, cape flapping behind him. He senses Fuyumi bow behind him as he marches off to regroup with his commander. She will know better than to do things under his nose like that again.

It’s horseshit, for Fuyumi to be so concerned that one brother won’t answer a few measly letters, and yet have such a minimal reaction to the other one being kidnapped.

As he approaches, the commander straightens and greets him, dismissing the remaining guards.

“Have two men follow them,” is the first thing out of his mouth.

“Your Majesty?”

“Those two brats from earlier,” Enji states, crossing his arms.

“Shall I send Hawks?”

“No need to waste resources, just two capable soldiers will do.” Enji glances down at the commander, who is rubbing his chin in thought.

“Hm. Why not put your son on the job.”

Fuyumi closes the door as soon as her father disappears around the corner, sighing.

Don’t worry Shouto, she thinks, Mezou will have your back.

“That’s quite the trek, huh?” Midoriya comments, shielding his eyes as they emerge from the forest surrounding the palace. Shouto is sure castles are usually in the centre of their capital, but he isn’t overly surprised Enji’s isn’t. An enormous palace tucked away in the forest where it is visibly intimidating but private. A prideful loner, just like it’s king.

With dusk approaching, the capital is not as busy as it was earlier. Yet, the fact that there is still a steady – if reduced – flow of people speaks to the likely large population living here. They travel in all directions like before, and with the way the shops and districts are organized – or more like, disorganized – Shouto can see why.

Midoriya, at least, seems enchanted. Shouto hadn’t noticed before, since he’d been trying very hard not to look at the other boy. He is takes in the sights and sounds as Shouto had earlier.

On the way here, Midoriya had opened up, perhaps prompted by Shouto’s own vulnerability. He’d left his home in a remote village in Yuuei to go to the capital, hoping to register as a member of the guild and join a knight academy. That was more than half a year ago. But after being rejected by every single academy he applied for, he’d gotten extremely lucky and met his mentor, a high-ranking knight who also happens to be the king of Yuuei.

“I really am extremely grateful to All Might!” He had exclaimed, visibly excited. Shouto had merely nodded, since it only made sense for a father to jump at the opportunity to teach his long-lost son. On that note, doesn’t that mean Midoriya is the illegitimate son of a king? How interesting, then they are both princes.

Anyway, as he’d mentioned before, Midoriya took to adventuring for money and experience. If he could become a high-ranking member of the guild, it would be socially acceptable for him to become All Might’s squire despite never receiving a formal education!

As expected of Midoriya, Shouto had thought. He works hard no matter what, even if it’s usually through unconventional methods.

Then, the distracted Midoriya bumps into a stall. He jumps away and begins apologizing profusely, before realizing the other party is, in fact, inanimate.

“… Is Endeavor very different from Yuuei?” Shouto asks, grabbing his arm and steering him away from the glaring vendor.

Midoriya jerks his gaze back to the other boy, almost startled that Shouto had initiated conversation first. The adventurer scratches his chin in thought.

“Well, Sumu is a small village at the border of Yuuei and the Wildlands, nowhere near any big towns, so big crowds of people and such grand buildings will always fascinate me.”

Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Well, maybe it’s also how bright and amazing everything is. There’s so many different things operating in so many different ways, it’s almost overwhelming. Even Yuuei’s capital wasn’t so bustling.”

The image of the children with patchwork clothes and hungry faces flashes through Shouto’s mind, and he thinks perhaps this city hides as much as it shows.

In fact, what Midoriya views as grand is, to Shouto, one big seemingly unsupervised mess. It is incredible in its own way, but Shouto can’t imagine his father accepting anything like this. He imagines Enji would want everything perfect, clean, and perhaps on fire if he was in the mood.

Wait, that isn’t quite right. Actually, this giant mess is exactly how Enji’s country would be. If the man couldn’t even treat his family right, of course he couldn’t properly manage a country. With a king more focused on what’s outside his kingdom and negligent of what’s happening inside, it’s no wonder the citizens had done what they liked. They’d ended up segregating so severely that there are hungry children begging at a peanut stand right next to a rich, pompous sweets store.

Shouto’s lips curl as they enter a familiar plaza.

“Well, I suppose I have been too distracted. We should head off right away, you don’t happen to know any places that rent transportation? Or perhaps anyone willing to let us hitch a ride?” Midoriya hums, eyes focused as he actively looks around for a quicker way to travel. Shouto’s eyes, on the other hand, are fixed on a certain shop.

“Hey Midoriya,”

“Yes?”

“Hold this for me.”

“Wha– woah!” Midoriya scrambles to catch Ruba as Shouto dumps her into his arms. He instinctively cradles her as he calls out in complete bafflement:

“Shouto-kun?! Where are you going?”

Shouto doesn’t bother turning, heading determinedly towards his destination.

“Give me a minute. I need to do one last thing before we leave.”

Midoriya stares at his companion. The other boy has his hood down, evidently comfortable enough to do so in the back of the cart they rented. This in and of itself is not too odd, nor is the cat of questionable origins snoozing in Shouto’s lap.

Shouto notices his eyes.

“Wan’ fwun?” The boy offers, holding out one of the many peppermints he is shoving into his mouth.

“… N-No, thank you,” Midoriya says, trying not to cringe as Shouto somehow crams it into his mouth despite his already more than full cheeks.

Shouto is… an enigma. Midoriya has only known him for a few hours, let it feels like it’s been much longer. He carries around one of the most stigmatized creatures in his kingdom, either has or hasn’t murdered his brother, and has an odd sense of boundaries. He bows to a girl his age covered in grime, yet speaks to royalty as if an equal. If Midoriya didn’t know any better, he’d think the boy had absolutely no social awareness.

But it’s not that he has none. It’s just… strange, is all. And now that very Shouto is following him for reasons Midoriya honestly cannot even begin to fathom.

Well, he thinks with a half-smile, I could do worse than a boy who shows respect to those with character, not power.

And with that encouraging thought, Midoriya turns and attempts to overcome his extreme trepidation rationally.

“Shouto,” he asks in his most unthreatening voice, “why do you have so much candy?”

Shouto blinks at him.

Shouto walks into the candy shop, the bell ringing pleasantly. He strides right up to the glowing orbs displayed in the middle, grabbing one. He caresses it, and thinks, oh. It’s not warm or cool. It’s just smooth, sparkly, and empty.

“You–”

Shouto turns. “Oh. You remember me.”

The shopkeeper sneers, but before he has the chance to open his mouth again, Shouto strides over, and slams a foot on the counter.

A very not-bare foot, covered by a sleek, shiny, very expensive-looking boot. The shopkeeper stumbles back, eyes wide. Shouto silently appreciates this body’s flexibility as he drops a bag on the counter.

Gold coins spill out. Everyone in the store seems to gasp quietly at once, except the shopkeeper, who inhales sharply instead.

“W-What would you like to purchase, sir,” he says through his teeth. Shouto doesn’t know if it’s out of fear, rage, or both, but it’s delightful all the same. He hasn’t felt like this since he soaked his father’s favourite custom dress shoes in soy sauce last year, right before a hero gala.

Internally giddy, he gestures to his money. “Everything these coins can buy.”

The shopkeeper pales, the murmurs of his customers growing louder by the second. Shouto furrows his eyebrows.

“What’s the matter? It’s not enough?” He asks, genuinely confused. He pulls out the second bag, and that’s when the shopkeeper bursts.

“My apologies sir, but I could not match the worth of just one bag even if I sold my entire shop.”

He looks like that statement caused him physical pain, and, well, Shouto isn’t heartless.

“In that case,” he says, glancing at the children gawking from the outside and raising his voice, “Free sweets for every child that comes in for the rest of the week, no matter what.”

Then he picks up a glass jar up off the counter. He holds it between them, watching as the red and white striped candy inside has the shopkeeper flinching slightly in memory.

“As for me, every single one of these you have, and then some,” Shouto says, because he isn’t entirely forgiving either.

He pushes a couple gold coins forward, putting away the rest. “Please.”

“… I’m hungry,” Shouto says, and his expression truly does seem like that of one who hasn’t eaten much lately. Midoriya closes his eyes, smiles, and chooses not to question why he went to a candy shop instead of an eatery. He will not even touch why Shouto decided on one, and only one candy in particular to mass purchase.

Instead, he says: “Would you like a sandwich, Shouto?”

And seeing the way the other boy’s face glows, Midoriya thinks it’s alright even if he’ll need to share most of his meals in the foreseeable future.

“Whoa! Stop already ya dumb lug!”

Shouto zones back in to the sound of leather whipping through the air, and then catches himself as the cart comes to a jolting halt. He stretches with a groan, crawling over to shake Midoriya awake. When the other boy’s face scrunches up and he rolls over, Shouto deems his job done and jumps out of the cart.

The sky is clear, hinting at the warm day to come. But for now, Shouto wraps his cloak around himself a little tighter to ward off the early morning chill. The long grass sparkles with dew, everything fresh and green after the light rain last night. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of wet earth.

Something soft brushes against his neck, and Shouto glances back to see Ruba has leapt onto his shoulder.

‘We’re here… I wonder what the witch looks like.’

Shouto tugs his hood up just as she settles around his head, tail curling. “We’ll know soon enough.”

He walks around to the front to thank the driver, who grunts and waves a dismissive hand. Shouto almost smiles, carefully avoiding the multitude of horns and tusks as he pats Kiki, the giant boar that had pulled them here. The gruff old man plays tough, but he’d stopped immediately when Shouto had felt nauseous over-stuffing himself with candy. And though he grumbled, he’d given them a huge backpack to store all the candy in, and then driven all through the night to catch up on lost time.

Shouto reaches up to tap him on the shoulder, and places a peppermint in his hand.

“Really, thank you,” he says, bowing.

“It’s ma goddam job kid, don’t give sweets to an ol’ man,” he mutters, but pockets it anyway, which has Ruba snickering even as Shouto nods solemnly.

Midoriya finally stumbles over, wearing the backpack and rubbing his eyes as he earnestly thanks the driver too. They both step back as the driver turns the cart, and heads off, Kiki grunting the whole way.

“Ah! I forgot to pay him the other half of the ride fee!” Midoriya exclaims, all sleepiness vanishing from his face.

“Don’t worry, I left it in the back of the cart,” Shouto says, patting his arm.

Midoriya deflates, relief washing over his face. “Oh thank the lord, though I wanted to pay him extra just for the bag and his excellent service… but at least you gave him the other 15 copper, right Shouto-kun?”

Shouto blinks.

“Shouto-kun?” Midoriya turns to him.

Shouto had left 15 gold coins. Well, it shouldn’t be too big of a difference, he figures.

“I gave him a peppermint,” Shouto says, and begins speed walking towards the collection of thatched houses a little ways away.

“Okay goo– what?! SHOUTO-KUN!”

The difference between the capital and the town they’re approaching is so drastic that it’s a wonder they’re still in the same kingdom. There is no proper road, just a beaten dirt path wide enough for maybe one cart to pass through. Instead of packed and towering buildings, the single-story dwellings exist in clusters, all surrounding the longest and largest structure in the centre. Despite the sparsity, everything is relatively close and within walking distance. The clearing itself isn’t very big to begin with, the treeline dropping into immediate dense foliage without any sort of gradient. There is only a few people out and about this early.

‘He wasn’t kidding when he called Miebe a ‘small village’,’ Ruba comments, ‘this place is more rundown than where I live.’

Shouto does agree, but…

Two kids run by, shirts and shorts clearly stitched out of old cloth, bare feet dirty. A plump woman peeks out the entrance of one house, calling them in to wash up for breakfast. They race back in, only for one child to pop out again with a loaf of buttered bread, which he hands to a bearded man chopping wood in the home across. He takes it with a large smile, ruffling the child’s hair, and Shouto feels himself smile, completely this time.

Compared to the capital, he feels soothed by the undercurrent of warmth in this place, between these people.

“This way,” Midoriya calls, pointing towards one of the dwellings farther away. Shouto hurries to follow, a little surprised since he had sort of expected them to head towards the biggest one.

When they step up to the door, Midoriya doesn’t bother knocking, instead shoving it open as if entering his own home. The slight breeze that results ends up sending the array of windchimes hanging all over the inside swirling, their cacophony of clinking creating a chaotic yet pleasant melody.

Midoriya steps inside, slipping his bags off and setting them on the pile of woven mats that appeared to work as a bench of sorts. Shouto is not so casual, and it’s like they’ve flipped roles from earlier. He can’t take his eyes away from the different coloured crystals that make up the windchimes, as if they were stars dangling from the ceiling. It’s enchanting in a familiar way, and Shouto realizes they shift and dance just like the baubles that had been above his bed as a baby. He wonders why he never heard them chime like this, he thinks he would’ve enjoyed himself a little more on those long nights waiting for the cat to reveal herself.

Big bottles, seemingly of similar material and just as diverse in colour, sit all along the other side of the room, their long necks extending up as if trying to touch the windchimes above. Every single one is empty, yet they are all stoppered.

Somehow, Shouto feels compelled to touch them, but right before his fingers can reach, a girl comes barreling in from the other room.

“Ugh, why are they back so soon–” she growls as she charges forth, giant wooden stick first. Shouto flinches, hands snapping back under his cloak. The cat tenses, recoiling as if preparing to attack, but the girl freezes abruptly at the sight of them, her large hat flopping forward.

‘She actually has a pointy hat!’ Ruba exclaims, a little too excited. ‘Is that a staff?’

Indeed, what Shouto had thought was a giant stick is, in fact, a gnarled staff. It curls thickly at the top around some sort of round pink stone. The girl flicks her head so the hat flops back in place, pointy end settling behind her head once more, and finally her face comes into view, delighted and shocked in equal amounts.

Shouto finds himself feeling much of the same emotions.

“Deku-kun!” Uraraka cheers, setting her staff against the wall and jumping on Midoriya for a hug. He catches her with a laugh, twirling her around.

“Hi Uraraka-san, long time no see!”

“No kidding! Say, who’s this–”

Shouto gasps, surging forward to grab Uraraka’s hands.

“It’s you!”

Uraraka blinks once, twice. Then she glances at Midoriya, who appears to be on the verge of face-palming.

‘… You need to stop doing that,’ Ruba intones, her words lost on Shouto in his giddiness.

Midoriya comes up behind him, gently unlatching his fingers from Uraraka’s. “Sorry, he’s just a little excited.”

“Hello Uraraka. I’m Shouto,” Shouto offers eagerly.

“… Uraraka Ochako, nice to meet you Shouto-kun,” Uraraka smiles awkwardly, shuffling back a bit. Shouto supposes he came on a little too strong again. But! This is amazing, he hadn’t expected to find anymore of his friends – at least, not until Kisdurelle. Knowing his classmates, an elite knight academy was bound to have someone.

“Aha ha ha, actually, I told him you could help with his mana,” Midoriya explains, seamlessly covering up Shouto’s overenthusiastic greeting. Uraraka’s eyes light up in understanding.

“In that case, have a seat Shouto-kun, I’m just going to go put this away,” Uraraka points to her staff sheepishly, before disappearing into the other room once more.

Shouto does as he’s told, settling on the makeshift bench. Midoriya plops down beside him, shoving his bag out of the way.

“Sorry, she doesn’t usually attack people with her staff,” he murmurs, nudging Shouto slightly. Shouto frowns, thinking about how Uraraka would sweep the floor with most of their class in hand-to-hand combat.

“You’re right, it seems she would be better with her fists.”

“Huh?”

Uraraka re-enters the room, then frowns and rubs her ears. “Oh, I totally forgot those were still going off.”

She snaps. Suddenly, the chimes still and the room goes quiet. Shouto watches in awe, because this ability is not similar to his Uraraka’s quirk at all. Perhaps her being a witch has something to do with it?

“Is that like a doorbell?” Midoriya asks, intrigued. Shouto mentally thanks him for asking the questions he doesn’t.

‘Obviously it’s some sort of alarm,’ Ruba scoffs, tail waving pompously. It almost has Shouto sneezing, so he pulls Ruba out from under his hood and sets her down in his lap. Uraraka does a double-take, but doesn’t say anything, just gestures for him to remove his cloak.

“Not quite,” she grins, “These right here are mana crystals!”

Midoriya’s jaw drops.

He shoots up, glancing at Uraraka for permission before hesitantly touching once. After a second, it flickers to life, emitting a faint pulsating glow.

“No way! How did you manage to get your hands on so many?!”

Shouto unclasps his cloak and pulls it off, dropping it on the cat. Her head pops out from underneath, clearly disgruntled.

“… Mana crystals?” Shouto asks.

Uraraka turns to him, visibly examining his face. Shouto shifts somewhat nervously. She doesn’t recognize him, right? She may be a citizen of Endeavor, but Miebe is so far from the capital and no one outside the palace knows his face…

“Your mana is leaking out of you everywhere, no wonder the chimes went off,” Uraraka tuts, grabbing his chin and forcefully turning his head. Shouto untenses, his worries for naught. He doesn’t complain even as she squishes his cheeks and opens his mouth, distantly reminded of Touya.

“Mana crystals react to mana in different ways depending on how they’re cut,” Midoriya offers, as Uraraka tugs on Shouto’s shirt.

“Take this off. And yep, these ones here are meant to ring if unfamiliar mana use is detected.”

Shouto drops his shirt in his lap as well, but right before it lands Ruba leaps onto Midoriya. That’s a good idea, it would be harder for Uraraka to examine him if everything’s in his lap. Shouto dumps his clothes in Midoriya’s lap too, and the cat hisses from under the pile of clothes.

‘You suck.’

“It makes sense that you haven’t seen them before,” Midoriya says as he pulls Ruba out and hesitantly pets her. “They’re very expensive. You’d really only get to see one for yourself if you visit a Senser.”

“Ah, and a Senser is someone who can sense your mana flow, like Uraraka’s doing right now,” he quickly adds, upon seeing Shouto’s open mouth. Shouto shakes his head.

“No, I actually meant to say that I think I’ve seen mana crystals before,” Shouto lifts his arms as Uraraka prods at his sides.

“Is there any reason a baby would have them over their bed?”

Uraraka’s hand stills. She and Midoriya share a glance.

“Well… sometimes, if parents are… very curious about the baby’s mana, they’ll hang them nearby as a signal of sorts for if and when their mana manifests,” Midoriya explains carefully. Shouto’s stomach sinks.

“Only filthy rich folks can afford to use crystals for such a pointless reason,” Uraraka grumbles, her fingers now a little more forceful. “If they didn’t have such a monopoly over crystals, there would be more Sensers and then people could actually afford a visit.”

Shouto presses his lips tight. He has to consciously unclench his fists to avoid his nails cutting into his palm.

Ah… so even the dancing stars were just another way to monitor me. Him. Us.

Midoriya quickly changes the topic. “Th-That’s why it really is amazing you’ve got so many here,” he interjects, smiling a bit too wide.

Uraraka huffs, then shakes her bad mood off and straightens. “I know! They’re all Shuzenji-san’s, from back when she was part of the Last War. They’re… a bit worn and cracked, which is why all of these together still don’t quite equate to a single unblemished one, but we work with what we have.”

‘The ‘Last War…’ I think I’ve heard that a couple times,’ Ruba mentions, tail curling and she relaxes under Midoriya’s dotting. Shouto hums in acknowledgement. So there was a war. Between Yuuei and Endeavor? That would explain some of the strange tension and ire Enji held towards the other kingdom. But, while the war was recent enough that there were still living people who had participated in it, it was also long enough ago that citizens are generally comfortable travelling to each other’s nations.

And the name, ‘Last War,’ denotes the expectation that this current peace would last a long time. Shouto frowns. Enji may be quick to temper, but he wouldn’t go so far as to revive old enmity.

Or would he? Shouto can hardly say he knows how the people in this world are.

Well, instead of focusing on the questions he cannot answer, Shouto focuses on the ones he can at least find answers for.

“Who’s Shuzenji-san?” He asks, because the name is familiar.

“Oh, Shuzenji-san is the one who will be able to help you,” Uraraka clarifies, as Midoriya hands him his clothes. “All I can do is take a look, since I’m only at the level of a Senser.”

“I thought you were a witch?” He says, tugging his shirt back on. If this Shuzenji is going to examine him later, there’s no point in tucking it in, so he lets it hang loose and sets his cloak aside.

Uraraka chuckles, waving dismissively. “Oh no, I’m not that well-trained yet.”

“But she will be soon,” Midoriya pipes up, “She’s apprenticing under Shuzenji-san, who always talks about how talented she is.”

Uraraka blushes, roughly smacking him on the back as she tries to hide a grin. Midoriya wheezes, but he’s smiling. They’re so easy and familiar with each other that Shouto can almost imagine that he’s back in the cafeteria at school, surrounded by chatting and laughter. Except he’s not part of it.

“The chimes sounded more like an alarm than a doorbell,” Shouto says, parroting Ruba in an attempt to shake off the ugly feeling blanketing him. Only then does he realize he probably should’ve congratulated Uraraka somehow. But, it seems a little too late, especially with the way she rubs her arm awkwardly.

Shouto grips the bottom of his shirt. Somehow, he can feel the distance between himself and the other two more than ever. Perhaps he only keenly felt the difference after seeing how closely the two of them interacted with each other. When it was just him and Midoriya, they may have been strangers, but at least they were strangers together.

Now, Shouto just feels left out. And so much more alien than ever before.

Soft fur brushes against his hands, and Shouto relaxes them. He glances at Ruba, who’s tail is curled around his wrist even as she obstinately looks away. Shouto huffs in amusement.

 “Come to think of it, you did rush out on us earlier,” Midoriya points out, and it takes Shouto a few seconds to realize he’s following-up.

“The crystal chimes weren’t here before. Is there a particular reason you’ve put them up?”

Uraraka latches onto the new topic. “Oh, yeah. They are an alarm of sorts. When they ring, then we know we’re about to be attacked.”

Midoriya nods in understanding. “I see, that makes sens– Attacked?!”

And as if he had summoned it himself, the chimes go off.

Shouto and Midoriya burst out of the dwelling, following after Uraraka who had grabbed her staff and dashed outside.

She’s racing around the town, slamming her staff against each door thrice. People pour out, the children and elderly heading straight towards the large structure in the middle.

“Aw, we gotta sleep there again?” One child groans, dragging their feet as their mother ushers them inside.

“It’s too goddamed early for this,” a man grumbles, heading in the opposite direction with a shovel held threateningly in his grip.

Midoriya and Shouto look at each other in bafflement, and then Uraraka lands suddenly between them. Shouto jumps back, startled, but Midoriya seems prepared for it, immediately questioning her about the chaos.

‘She floated through the sky,’ Ruba says in awe, jumping from Midoriya’s arms to Shouto’s. She climbs onto his shoulders, and only then does Shouto realize he’d left his cloak behind. Well, it’s not like there was anyone here that would recognize him.

‘She didn’t even use a broom…’

“That’s her quirk,” Shouto murmurs, because as it turns out, her mana manifestation does  match. But there’s no time to ponder the logistics of her mana as Shouto is yanked back by the collar of his shirt. An arrow lands right between his feet, narrowly missing him.

“Shouto-kun! You alright?” Midoriya frets, letting go of him.

“Yes, thank you,” Shouto intones, his heart running a mile a minute. He should focus on… what exactly is going on?

“What exactly is going on?”

“Oh Shouto-kun, you weren’t listening,” Midoriya says more than asks, as his signature green lightning powers up. “Miebe has been repeatedly raided recently. Is being raided right now.”

Shouto’s eyes widen, but Midoriya flashes off before he can say anything in response. Uraraka raises an eyebrow at him before joining Midoriya, leaping forward into what Shouto can only assume is the fray.

‘Raid?! Who the heck wants to raid this crummy place?’ Ruba exclaims.

“It doesn’t matter, we have to help,” Shouto says, crouching to push the buckle of his boots aside. “Which button was it again?”

‘What?’

Shouto doesn’t want to risk pressing the wrong button while one of Hatsume’s inventions is on his feet, but he has no other way to get to the fight quick enough. He grits his teeth and prepares to accidentally blow-up his lower half, but before he can press anything, he’s grabbed by the shoulders.

“Are you alright, son?” The mother from earlier yells in his face. Shouto barely has time to nod before he’s being dragged away from the conflict.

“Ah, wait–!”

“Now now, I know it’s hard to stay put, but there is no place for children in a battle.”

The next thing he knows, Shouto is tossed into the main building. He scrambles to his feet, but the door is shut in his face before he has the chance to leave. It’s locked, and brute force is fruitless with his current strength.

Shit, Shouto thinks, turning to survey the room. The floor is covered in a thick layer of straw, upon which people are either lying down or sitting. Several kids are looking at him. One elderly man shakes his head, then pats the area beside him.

With no other options, Shouto plops down beside him. He smiles, slow and shaky. It pulls at all the wrinkles in his leathery skin, making him look twice as old.

“Don’t worry child, our village may be small, but we are strong. We will fight them off as we have before.”

Shouto sets Ruba down on the floor. She gets the memo, slinking through the straw in search of any possible exits.

“That’s not it, I can fight too,” he tells him, “Can you tell me how to get back out there?”

The old man hums, face folding in on itself as he furrows his brow. Or, at least Shouto assumes so, since the man is completely hairless, like an ancient potato.

“Battle is not a privilege, but a responsibility one should not willingly burden themself with,” he rasps, patting Shouto on the knee. “Let yourself be protected so you can grow up to protect others.”

It’s not a strange thing to say at all, but all the same Shouto finds himself taken aback. He’s usually on the other side of a statement like that, after all, along with the rest of his classmates. It comes with training to be a hero, where they’re often praised for doing the opposite. Learning to fight from a young age–

He’s already five!

–makes sense. It would ensure one was better at it later, after all.

Then Shouto thinks of the little girl in bandages. Eri. He thinks of Ruba, small and thin and huddled behind that crate. And he thinks he understands. Children should be protected.

But Shouto is not a child anymore, and he can help.

‘Shouto-san!’ Ruba pops up from the straw. The old man draws back at the sight of her, glancing at Shouto warily.

‘There’s an upper floor, hidden behind the wood panelling,’ she says, and Shouto scrambles to follow her to a more secluded corner. Indeed, the walls are made of intricately hand-carved wooden panelling, each with a unique design. He leans closer, tracing the dips in the wood. His fingers brush across every surface, poke into every hole, search for a catch of some sort.

The inside of this building is rectangular, however he remembers the outside was rounder, with a dome-like top expanding down the entire roof. That means there is a substantial gap in the areas around the corners.

Sure enough, there’s a click, and Shouto falls through.

“Oof!” He peels his face off the floor, wondering if secrets in the walls are a popular architectural design in this world. He peers upwards to see a set of rough cut stairs. He cranes his neck, gaze tracing them until a little old lady comes into view at the very top.

Her cane thuds against the stair below. “Oh my, that mana is familiar.”

Shouto squints. He rolls to his feet, dusting his clothes off.

The way she slams her cane against each step is intimidating, especially with the backlighting illuminating her silhouette. And then she takes one more step down, and Shouto comes face to face with Recovery Girl.

Shuuzenji-san, Uraraka had said.

She smiles, wrapping her maroon shawl tighter around her body. “It’s been a while, Third Prince Shouto.”