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Shouto cursed under his breath, suddenly very aware of the autumn breeze caressing his hair in every damn direction. It was hard not to mind when it took him more than twenty minutes to get it done, so he could look at least decent while heading out. And maybe he did - enchanting mirror until it showed him just what he wanted to see - but it hadn’t mattered much now as all of his efforts ended up in vain.
One could not control the weather, Shouto reasoned with himself, removing the cotton scarf wrapped around him tightly. It would be rude to keep it on while entering the city library as it hid away most of his face and the last thing he needed was people giving him strange looks. Not because he cared what the bunch of strangers thought of him (his own friends used to call him odd, bizarre even, often enough for it to sink in already). It just wasn’t the kind of attention he particularly hoped for today as from the very beginning it would have put him in a disadvantageous position. Something he just couldn’t allow to happen, desperately clinging to any kind of leverage he may have still possessed, motivated not to fail.
His mission: make Bakugou Katsuki fall in love with him.
He was ambitious and quite positive about his chances.
Stage one: not to embarrass himself.
Stage two: charm Bakugou with a smile and (luckily) win over his number.
The plan was simple and efficient - just like Shouto himself. Nothing like a complex Master’s Evil Scheme Izuku kindly submitted to him a week ago, somehow convinced it could’ve worked. Just to be clear - it could not. Not because Midoriya wasn’t a true mastermind able to do pretty much anything he had put his mind into. No, it was entirely Shouto's fault. Plotting required something he clearly lacked - the ability to follow the very specific steps.
Like, was he supposed to blink once or twice before nodding; avert his gaze before or after making eye contact with his target; screaming he wanted him bad or just kissing him right away…
Nah, it was doubtful Midoriya ever brought up the last thing, not to mention purposely putting Shouto up to it, but that’s probably why he didn’t like it a tiny bit, in the end dismissing the whole idea at once.
He would win the heart of the man he ached for himself.
He would… Or so he hoped, until he ran into Bakugou a moment later, instantly realising he still stood no chance here.
They weren’t on the name base or pretty much any base to be honest, but occasionally exchanged something more than non-verbal greeting, with Bakugou providing them with witty remarks about something Shouto had currently done or recommending him the next set of books he was anyway (as Bakugou so nicely reasured him) too stupid to read.
It was nice and refreshing, and so uncomplicated Shouto totally hated it. He didn’t want basic - he experienced enough of it in the last four months, remaining nothing but the contemporaries with Bakugou. Their relationship wasn’t quite professional (thanks to Bakugou unprofessional personality) but it wasn’t particularly close or intimate either. They saw each other almost every day yet never outside of the library building. What hadn’t really helped them to connect deeper, on a more common level.
He wanted to be considered as someone more than just another Patron Bakugou had to tolerate. Even if it made him seek out his acceptance more or less desperately.
He wanted to mean something in his eyes...
Yet, there he was, failing oh-so-terribly at the very first stage of his great plan, with Bakugou crossing his path to size him up blatantly in his usual greeting-manners. Shouto knew he had lost even before Bakugou’s gaze fell on the mess his hair currently was, turning into something rather pointed. He knew, before Bakugou provided him with the roll of the eyes and the naughty snort. But even if he hadn’t known, Bakugou walking away without a single word would’ve worked just as fine.
He was disappointed in him.
The message was clear and well-received, and Shouto had already learnt better than to push his luck when Bakugou was involved, so he obediently stepped back, heading to an empty table in the back of the room. Some fights weren’t meant to be fought recklessly nor hurriedly. He would call it a day today, but be back tomorrow; with a better hairstyle and, hopefully, no reason for Bakugou to turn him down again.
To say he was bored was an understatement. Sure, Shouto liked to read (why would he be visiting the library frequently if he didn’t, aside from Bakugou’s pleasing presence?) but how many books could he consume daily before losing his focus only to catch himself staring at the man dreamily? Especially today, sighing softly every time they had crossed their eyes, only for Bakugou to avert his gaze with a scowl.
He was a creature of habits (habits that Shouto grew quite familiar with) and avoiding one’s gaze hadn’t fit right in his typical behaviour pattern. In fact, it was such an abnormal action it had only confused Shouto more, before he noticed that Bakugou hadn’t seemed to have a problem at all with pinning other visitors down with a glare when they dared to talk too loud (or to be precise - at all). Which made Shouto an obvious cause.
Was he distracting Bakugou? Or maybe worse - irritating him?
Was he so unbearable to look at because of one bad hair day?
Oh god, did he suddenly become a problem?
It would end him…
Deciding it would be better to just get off his sight before he grew tired of his face already, Shouto ducked from his seat at the table to hide himself among the closest bookshelves. It was the fantasy section, he noted absently, already glad for his random pick as it would’ve not turned out to be some kind of personal offence to Bakugou. Like poetry. Or anything even slightly romantic for a matter.
Shouto might have or might have not, tried to read him something once. To make him laugh, or smile, or even frown; not to get kicked out of the library at once.
Some lessons were learnt from mistakes and Shouto would not lower his chances any more by repeating them like a fool. Even if it meant he would’ve been acting like a coward instead.
Moving slowly, he narrowed his eyes at the first title between the great deal of others he never saw or even heard of. Fantasy books weren’t his cup of tea (not that he didn’t like them - he just preferred things to have more realistic settings) but the Adventure ones were a whole different story, and in front of him appeared to be the whole blend of those two genres. It made him kind of excited - to discover and explore unknown; gently caressing the spine of the upcoming tomes. He couldn’t learn too much just from their names, but either way intended to choose blindly, allowing himself to be deceived by his sight.
It was meant to be a game, as not even for a moment had he suspected that one of them could attract his attention to the point he wouldn’t be able to look away from it.
“One way trip”, proclaimed the neat letters on its spine and Shouto reached forward to grab the book. He was intrigued and eager to study the cover up close, curious about the meaning it could’ve possibly hid behind, only to end up disappointed when discovering it portrayed nothing.
Like absolutely and truly nothing. It was red, or rather scarlet, sure, but besides that remained pretty much bare. Without even the smallest ornaments that would’ve made it stand out more among the rest. How many people did overlooked it because of that; and why Shouto wasn’t one of them was a mystery.
The color itself kinda reminded him of Bakugou’s eyes, he figured out opening the book to peek inside. Even if it wasn’t anything special on the outside, and hadn’t revealed the plot on the back, Shouto decided to give it a try as it somehow piqued his interest. Honestly not expecting much out of it yet failing in holding back his annoyance as it turned out to contain nothing.
The pages were blank. He flipped through the following ones just to make sure. Was this some kind of joke? If so Shouto clearly wasn’t having it.
Nothing indicated it would be anything but a waste of time and paper, when somewhere in the middle of the book, he had suddenly caught a sign of something. The small letters forming into a quite simple question.
“Are you in?”
That’s it? Was the book mocking him now because he wasted his time going through its blank pages instead of just giving up like a normal person would when he had figured out it led nowhere? “Sure I am,” Shouto sneered before the book had started glowing, catching him completely off guard.
One heartbeat later, the light spilled out farther, covering not only his hands but also arms. He couldn’t shake it off and so before he knew he was being covered by it fully, only to get sucked in a moment later, disappearing in a thick puff of smoke.
“Your journey has begun,”
the voice rang in his head as everything became hazy and Shouto’s conclusion collapsed at once.
“You’ll get only one chance.”
Shouto was sure he was sinking before the sensation of his own wobbly leg came back to him and he realised he was in fact losing his balance and falling flat on his face. Even his reflex kicking in barely a second later hadn’t helped him save himself as he couldn’t really move his hands freely. It seemed as if they were restrained behind his back so he gave it an experimental tug only to find out they would not, in fact, budge an inch. Someone must have thought it through pretty carefully judging by the additional knot on his thumbs.
They were pros then. Pros that for some unknown reason decided to kidnap him. Bothersome, but Shouto could deal with them just fine, as a son of the former Marine used to things far more worse than people tossing him around. He knew a thing or two about the self-defence, in truth, modesty aside, being quite amazing when it came to hand-to-hand combat, seeing as Enji had nagged him about it since Shouto had turned five. Mess-of-a-father or not, he taught him well, making Shouto rather confident in his abilities.
Maybe he could even take them down in one go. They obviously hadn’t taken him seriously; somewhere above him snoring evidently amused at the mess he just made of himself. Which, regardless, was a good thing, as it could’ve worked to his advantage if needed. Same as the element of surprise, so for now Shouto decided to just go along with the whole thing and, with some luck, gather at least a basic intel about his abusers, so he could report them to the authorities later.
Somebody had moved forward, crunching down by his side and so Shouto, careful not to eat the dirt he was currently lying in, twisted his head to face him properly. He even mustered something akin to a boredom to be shown on his face when he caught a glimpse of the man in front of him and his eyes had widened comically.
“Bakugou?” Shouto choked out weakly, in disbelief.
After months of pinning after Bakugou Shouto could’ve recognized him everywhere. He didn’t need his right mind to do so; familiar with his spiky blond hair, broad smile with rows of sharp teeth and even sharper gaze by the heart. The only thing about the “stranger” in front of him Shouto was yet not acquainted with would be that dangerous glint in his eyes.
“Are you stupid?”
Not to mention Bakugou’s weird setting of clothes. His pants looked pretty normal, sure, maybe even better than normal if Shouto was being honest, hugging Bakugou’s thighs tightly. His rather heavy boots weren’t anything out of ordinary either, but why on earth, was he nearly naked from the waist up? Aside from a white fur covering the major part of his arms, a cloak, some leather bracelets on his forearms (stretching deliciously with every move of his biceps) and jewelry hanging on his neck, Bakugou remained bare. His whole torso on full display, like he didn’t care two hoots about Shouto’s mental well-being.
God, Shouto could’ve probably distinguished every single muscle out there if he really wanted to. And he did, very fucking much. Preferably with his tongue, starting at the top of Bakugou’s broad chest, teasing and taking his sweet time, through his six pack, to the beginning of the V shape between his hips and maybe even lower—
“Oi, don’t ignore me!” Bakugou barked, sticking a finger to Shouto’s left cheek a bit too forcefully. “And don’t you dare give me those bedroom eyes, fucking Candy Cane. We could’ve been rolling in your fancy sheets right now like I suggested, but no. You got your stupid ideas.”
“Could we really?” Slipped out between Shouto’s (now permanently) hanging open mouth before he could stop himself.
“Of course we could,” Bakugou barked out a laugh. “But you’d lost that chance already. So tell me, Icy Hot, are you getting cold feet already?”
“About what?”
Shouto was confused to say at least. Especially as Bakugou started to frown upon him, with an entire new energy threatening he would “feed him to Kirishima” (which was simply weird and so he decided to ignore it for now) if he had any second thought about the whole deal. Which implied they must have reached some kind of agreement in advance. It wasn’t so unbelievable that Shouto would have agreed to being tied down and pushed around if Bakugou was involved, but he still couldn’t grasp what exactly was going on here. Not to mention the look on Bakugou’s face that made his heart whimper in a loud and clear protest, as he had caused it without a doubt.
“Have you fallen down and had a damn brain injury or are you just playing with me? Because if you do, known that I don’t fucking appreciate it.”
It was Bakugou they were talking about, yet if anything he seemed to be more hurt than angry, hiding it rather poorly. Shouto’s actions must’ve caused him genuine pain and so should he step down and apologize for it, hoping it would have solved this. Not to ponder about all the questions he wanted to ask instead (Where are we; how did we get here; and who in the world are you? Also, what are you even talking about?), and let’s face it, he probably would, manners long forgotten, if not for a piercing sound in his ears stopping him at once:
“PLOT DISTURBANCE.”,
announced an unfamiliar voice, bombarding his brain with a sight of numerous red flags.
“RETREAT AND FOLLOW THE SCRIPT.
I REPEAT, RETREAT AND FOLLOW THE SCRIPT. IF NOT THE CONSE—”
... Heavens, that’d hurt.
Was it an attempt at his hearing or brain functioning?
“Sorry Bakugou,” Shouto began slowly, cautious of the pain behind his eyes awaiting to hit him again with its full force once he’d confuse something. “Certainly I still want to do this.”
If he ever had any doubt regarding the matter, they perished as soon as Bakugou leaned closer, connecting their lips in a rather sweet kiss. “You can be so dumb sometimes, you know that, Shouto?”
Their lips had just met and even if it was nothing but a dream or hallucination, it felt more real than anything else before in his life.
It might’ve not been his Bakugou per se, but they shared the same body heat, appearance, and to some extent probably even mind, so Todoroki had convinced himself if anything it was simply a good and unique practical exercise.
“Would you date me?” Shouto risked asking.
He expected a laugh, but not quite like this one; deep and at the same time surprisingly light, like it had not only amused Bakugou but also pleased him just in the right way.
“I’m about to marry you, you fucking weirdo.”
“Oh.” Was all Shouto could have mustered.
He hadn’t expected that at all.
“Once upon a time, there was a prince who lived in a gilded cage,
loathing its golden bars.
Dreaming of wonders beyond his reach;
freedom once stolen and happiness not quite within grasp.
Once upon a time, there was a boy who had escaped from his splendor prison,
longing unknown.
Wandering through his family lands, as though looking for something
that wasn’t there.
Day after day, among the flock of faces seeking one
resembling the want of his heart.
Once upon a time, there was a man bewildered by the feral creature standing in his way,
with its teeth and claws bared.
A beautiful creature, with its restless stare;
wild and untamed still, and oh, so alluringly free.
And so he reached for it, ready for the pain and scratches it would’ve left behind assuredly;
bleeding out for love, he couldn’t even yet comprehend fully.
Once upon a time, two strangers had found each other,
determined to hold onto one another despite the difficulties that may await them.
The heir of the barbarian tribe joining hands with the prince of the noble house;
secretly; under the full moon sky, in the hushed voices exchanging their oaths.”
Narrator’s voice filled Shouto in, as he and Bakugou marched through the land. The resemblances between the told story and the world he currently found himself in, was hard to miss. Everything (aside from what on earth was he even doing here?) was falling into place, making a lot more sense now. Bakugou’s words and the kind of relationship they obviously shared… It was a fairytale. A love story written especially for the two of them.
Which still hadn’t explained why was he tied down.
“You’re under my custody now, Prince. Don’t forget it was your suggestion to begin with.”
“And so they lasted; separated but united,
away from prying eyes relishing their lives together.”
This time, with the story the images had appeared. All those chases in the wood; Bakugou never quite within his reach, until he indeed wanted to get caught. Them wrestling on the forest litter, fighting in a manner unfitting two civil human beings; scratching and bruising, aiming to draw blood. Then, the other time around, Bakugou making quite a mess out of him in a whole different way; teeth (not so accidentally) sinking into a soft flesh of his lower lip, like he just tried to bite it off in a spite of something; kisses impossible to keep up with; demanding and hungry, breathtaking; Bakugou’s weight on his hips. Fitting perfectly, as if they were made for one another, moving together in an absolute harmony.
His own heart breaking into a million pieces as Bakugou’s soft features hardened; an adoring smile turning into a vicious grimace.
“Happy, until the day had come and they were forced to face the new reality
suddenly divided.”
Shouto understood (or rather remembered) that now.
His father - king Enji (hadn’t that fit him a bit too well?) - grew out of patience, tired of delaying the inevitable for any longer. Hungry for fame and awaiting glory, he decided to set his troops in motion and invade Bakugou’s tribe settled at the very border of their country. Ready to spill blood, under the excuse of “teaching those dirty barbarians the value of true men”. They had asked for it after all, he would say, indifferent to his councils united opposition. Shouto had his own saying in the matter, yet acted not fast enough to prevent things from becoming even worse.
The war he could’ve dealt with just fine, but the tribe's response to the approaching combat had thrown him off his balance quite terribly. Their customs were different, and Original Shouto could have respected that (in awe watching Bakugou’s half naked form dancing in, or rather with, the wind; praying for the future well-being of his kind and expressing gratitude for things he had already possessed; movements fluid and unbothered, carried out without a hesitation or even second given thought), but he couldn’t possible proceed with this one, trying to hold onto Bakugou with all his might.
They were about to marry him off; to take him away from Shouto and put some fine warrior by his side instead. It would be a happy time; meant to unify and raise spirits before the upcoming battle. They would fight, drink and promise themselves in front of the gods, with every heating touch assuring the welfare of the clan; the promises shared between just the two of them long forgotten.
Original Shouto wanted to blame him - for not cursing it all out, not resisting too much nor fighting for them - but just cannot. Not while knowing him all too well - Bakugou carried on his shoulders all the responsibilities that went with his position in the clan without complaining. They gave him meaning and purpose; a clear way to follow. To abandon this all on the whim and run away with Shouto… would be like abandoning himself. He couldn’t expect it of him.
And so did he not; no longer determined to simply put an end to the whole farce, but more likely to approach it accordingly.
“The fight was unavoidable;
and so had they settled for their own rules.”
“So, I’m fighting over you, aren’t I?” Shouto asked, half conversationally, partly just to make sure he got it right.
“Damn right you are! And you’d better kick all of their asses, half n’half bastard; my good taste at the stake here.”
“Sure,” Shouto just nodded, trying to figure out how many men would that be, until Bakugou corrected him that there would be some women too, and that’s bad, because he couldn’t probably raise a hand at one, as it would be kind of impolite.
“You’re the fucking rude one. Underestimate any women of my clan and the next time we’ll see each other you’re gonna have to call one of them my wife.”
Wife…
“However, if you’d survive your first fight, the rest should be even easier to win.” It sounded way too good to be true. “After all, Shitty Hair’s strength matches mine.”
There it was.
“Who?” Shouto asked.
“My dragon, you moron.”
“Oh, right.”
Wait.
… a what now?
So apparently dragons not only existed (and they got the full fantasy package in the story now) but they were also so-called “partners” of Bakugou’s people. They let them fly on their back, fight alongside with them, and (to Shouto’s biggest surprise) could shapeshift so were following theirs humans around quite frequently (of what he personally had no recollection, but underneath his subconsciousness something had brought out the irritation and maybe a bit of envy bearing by his Other Self).
The mentioned Kirishima was no different; twenty feet away from the final destination of their journey appearing out of blue to throw himself at Bakugou and embrace him in his broad shoulders. Which was fine; Shouto wasn’t really the jealous type either way. But the guy was huge; about six feet and seven inches tall, built as if only of muscles, pressing Bakugou’s mostly naked form to his own bared chest, and had the gall to smile at Shouto over the man’s shoulder.
Clearly lacking shame; touching SHOUTO’s lover like he had any right to; a hand resting dangerously low on Bakugou’s back—
“Oh fuck… Goddammit Todoroki! Put that down!” Bakugou roared, breaking away from the hug, and Shouto snapped out of it instantly, catching a glimpse of something —fire was it?— licking the left side of his body. Did he just… Oh god, he was on fire. “Stop squirming… Why the fuck are you squirming?! Just put it down! Todoroki put it down!!!”
He did not, ending up with Bakugou’s cloak over his head, before the man himself had knocked him down to the ground. Probably believing he could quench it like any other bonfire, succeeding only because it had surprised Shouto to the point he just ‘turned’ it out on his own.
“Guys, people are watching…” Kirishima mentioned brightly.
After freeing himself from under the piece of cloth blocking out his line of sight and having a proper look at them, Shouto had to agree with him. Bakugou strangling his hips was a truly delicious view, but probably did no good to his reputation inside the tribe; with several people watching them from the entrance to the settlement rather disapprovingly.
“I don’t mind,” Shouto proclaimed either way, reaching out for Bakugou’s face to caress his cheek lovingly. “My soon-to-be husband can jump me whenever he wants.”
It was not his intention to humiliate Bakugou, but apparently he still managed to, as the man flushed furiously.
“Wha— Shut the—... I'm fucking hate you.”
The camp was a vibrant place, full of sounds, colours and folks.
Behind the main gate, the whole different world appeared. With kids running around happily while chased by the tiny dragons, too young to properly breath fire but not to burn their heels if they had slowed down too much. People not as much talking as shouting at each other, not in anger or irritation, but rather cheerfully, gesturing vividly as if unable to stay still; worrying not about the etiquette and protocol common at the royal court. Some of them would stop their conversations to stare at Shouto, clearly pondering about something before the wide smiles emerged on their faces and they started to shout at him in a dialect he couldn’t quite understand.
They seemed friendly enough, but Shouto had his fair share of doubts, failing not to notice a variety of weapons they carried around.
“I’m not sure if they’re cheering for me or want to gut me,” Shouto revealed, making Bakugou snort. “Probably both. We haven’t courted properly, and while whom I lie with doesn’t concern them, you’re a stranger wearing a tunic and puffed sleeves - if you turn out to be weak as well, they’re gonna strike you down for good measures.”
He would gasp if not for the fact that it hadn’t offended him at all, as until now he was not even aware that his clothes looked somehow strange.
“So, all you have to do is prove them wrong. They… care about me, okay? About my happiness and shit. And I’m not saying I would be happy with you - that’s sappy, you stupid weirdo - but you’re not the worst I could end up with. And they’d probably already figured that out too hence they’re not completely against you.”
So he was right and Bakugou’s tribe were not only nice, but also caring people. Belligerent too, but for a very justified reason, protecting Bakugou’s back and chastity over the years. Must’ve been hard, Shouto thought, determined to help them out a bit. He would gladly take upon himself looking after the man in the near future. To be honest, the Original Shouto partly already did, taking an excellent care of Bakugou’s virtue; and so no one beside him would’ve seen the plain lack of it...
Was it even appropriate for him to envy his other self? Because he was, wishing he would be stuck here for longer than truly necessary, before returning to his realm. About the month or so, as the honeymoon sounds indeed lovely, Shouto regarded, pretending not to know that the Real Bakugou would not, in fact, appreciate it much.
~*~
Izuku had often said that Shouto was putting on a bad front while dealing with strangers. Not because he was scowling or looking down on people like some, but simply because of the way he could make himself unapproachable within a second on a mere whim. Inventing his ‘cold indifference’ in early childhood, practicing it in adolescence, and mastering when entering adulthood; making it nearly impossible to reach out for those not to his liking.
And if he was right and the Original Shouto was anything like him, there was a high possibility that he was to blame for the majority, if not for all, of that accumulated negative energy between himself and the Kirishima guy.
How could he dare declare Bakugou meant world to him, if he couldn’t even get along with the person closest to him in regard to non-blood related and platonic relationships? Wasn’t the lack of effort worse than a possibly bad outcome?
It would obviously be to Bakugou as soon as he would get wind of their little squabble, and so Shouto decided to give the guy a second chance ahead of it.
With only a bit of forced smile engaging him in a conversation, while assigned to them, tribe’s people were putting paint all over their faces, adoring them with common battle colors. “So, we’re about to fight, huh.”
“Sure!” he exclaimed brightly, and wasn’t it just strange he was so eager to beat him?
“You know, I really fancy Bakugou—”
“Me too!”
“—and I do care about him. So, don’t you think, marry him would be appropriate—”
“Of course!” Kirishima interrupted him once more, and for a second Shouto would have believed they had reached some kind of understanding, before the man continued, “That’s why I want to marry him too!”
... And screw this, Shouto couldn’t stand him after all.
~*~
Still, he hadn’t really intended to freeze him where he stood as soon as the fight began.
~*~
It was only an accident, and Shouto had no idea why his right foot was suddenly freezing things - he had it for twenty years now and similar coincidence had never occurred, so it was clearly Kirishima's fault somehow - so he refused to feel guilty about it. Even when he noticed that there were little sparks coming from Bakugou’s palm, and oh… he’s pissed.
Which may have been a huge understatement given he was literally “exploding”, his palms lighting on its own, and wasn’t he a little too lethal in this universe? Not to mention a smile he somehow managed to maintain, making the whole situation even more terrific, and suddenly Shouto - on the verge of looming death - began to miss his at most frowning and glare-killing Bakugou.
Before the fight he had warned him to not even dare setting Kirishima on fire. To assume it also applied to trapping him in ice was not a big revelation, but before actually doing it, Shouto simply had no idea he even could. How was he supposed to prevent something he wasn’t aware of, from happening, then?
Not like he really could tell Bakugou that; at least not without revealing that he was kind of imposter here, and had no idea where his true boyfriend was, and probably getting himself killed in the process, so it would have not helped at all.
He did bad, and was not supposed to. It didn’t matter if some part of him considered it justified, or well-deserved - Kirishima had truly irritated him at this point - for whatever reason, he had broken an important promise, turning an honorable fight into a pure mockery. Bakugou had any right to be mad...
“I didn’t intend to—” Shouto tried to explain, only to end up shushed by Bakugou’s raised hand.
He did not speak nor really had to. There were no rules forbidding using any kind of “leverage” a person may possess, yet it was clearly not favoured by Bakugou (which they had fought for after all) so what’s the point? He may have shrugged it off, instead of condemning his behaviour openly allowing the competition to carry on (“without the fucking quirks this time”), but even from the other end of the field Shouto could have discerned the rapid change in his attitude.
There was some unknown bitterness here and Shouto just knew it’d come back later to bite him.
~*~
And so the contest continued (Kirishima long forgotten in the block of ice after Shouto revealed he honestly had no idea how to free him, and gained himself a nasty glare from Bakugou who obviously hadn’t believe him at all, while the rest decided to simply wait it out) but from now on Shouto would limit himself to hand to hand combat only, cautious not to mess it up even more.
His second opponent was a young man with a black lighting dyed on the left side of his hair and the air of confidence. With a kinda impressive battle cry, he charged at Shouto on the spur of the moment, not so impressively ending up manhandled and at the ground, completely neutralized.
It would be funny if it wasn’t just sad.
Thankfully, the woman that came after him was more of a challenge; punching Shouto straight in the face before he got a chance to square up properly. Deceiving little thing, playing dirty from the very beginning. Sneaking behind his back and aiming for his vital points, remaining nothing more but a pink blur at the edge of his vision.
She was faster than him, using the difference in their size to her advantage too. With her so-called “rings” (disturbingly resembling a knuckle dusters from his universe) trying to rearrange his face. He liked that part of himself, and was rather positive that Bakugou did too, so decided it would be better to prevent that from happening. And so had he turned to his own strong points, coming out clean.
For self-defence, Shouto learnt Jiu Jitsu. Then, he figured out it went well with Kung Fu and Taekwondo, while Enji insisted he should at least know the basics of everything, so introduced him to MCMAP.
He got the advantage of knowledge from another dimension and, after the countless sparring sessions between them, more than fundamental grasp of Bakugou’s movements and fighting style (probably passed down as a part of tradition inside the tribe) practically written in the Original Shouto’s flesh.
As long as he stayed alerted and focused, he would probably be able to take them all down.
Starting with Miss Ashido, as he had got to learn later; then moving on to the next risk-taker and another one, ultimately beating them down too. It was a serious matter; he knew that, but at the same time it was also a fun - sparring with people good enough to throw a solid punch and make him sweat, pushing him to his very limits and forcing to try even harder.
And he did, determined to success.
He was a man with a clear purpose, and no one could have possibly stopped him.
Unless they were talking about Bakugou, pushing aside Shouto’s next opponent to take his place and step forward on to the arena. With an ugly grin cracking his knuckles as if to say he was going to crush Shouto too, and frankly, Shouto had briefly reconsidered retreating before the man lunged forward, leaving him no chances to do so.
“Are you even allowed to fight?” Shouto asked, taking a preventive step back to avoid a high kick.
“First, you turn my dragon into ice cream,” Bakugou began slowly. “Then, I find out you have some badass moves up your sleeve and were apparently holding back the whole time as we danced,” he summarized growling. “I have any fucking right I need to beat your sorry ass.”
Who would have thought Bakugou would be so... competitive. Shouto appreciated the opportunity to learn more about him, despite another kick aiming at his head, instantly forcing him to take into account the possibility that Bakugou might have wanted to give him a brain injury. Which wasn’t really nice…
“Can’t we just kiss and make up?” Shouto asked hopefully.
Which apparently was considered dumb, as Bakugou roared with a whole new vigour, wresting his hand away from Shouto’s grasp, and faster than he could have blinked, connecting it with his face.
“You had lost,”
seemed to sign a voice in his head, as he stumbled, reacting way too slow to avoid the following kick, soon after colliding with his chin. Probably breaking it in the process, but what could Shouto possibly know if he blacked out in the meantime, leaving all the pain and humiliation for the Other Shouto to handle.
Oh god, it hurt nonetheless. His forehead pulsating with a dull pain, and he couldn’t even recall when he got hit in it. He couldn’t fall on it as he was laying on his back now, and suspecting Bakugou of beating unconscious people sounded just stupid (“there’s no real fun in it, is there?”, he would say, greatly offended)... but then, there was someone gripping his arms and shaking him violently, and suddenly Shouto had his fair share of doubt about it.
“Wake up,” The person called, and he recognized them straight away. Still, purposely delaying opening his eyes, not so eager to let Bakugou finish him off just yet, until the mentioned man gave him another hard shake and Shouto thought he was going to throw up for a moment. “Oh, you’re alive.”
“I’m alive,” Shouto confirmed weakly, cracking open an eye.
Everything seemed to be so light and blinding, and would definitely provide him with an instant headache if not for Bakugou’s handsome face blocking up most of his vision. He looked concerned - as he should be after beating Sho to a pulp, but it still hadn’t stopped Todoroki from reassuring him he was all right without really thinking about it, because that’s how bad he got it for him.
“You’re clearly not, you klutz.”
He wanted to argue with that, because he was not a clumsy person, but then he registered than Bakugou was wearing clothes - like the REAL clothes, with no leather or fur, and it had made Shouto only a little bit sad - and he was wearing some too, and they were in the building and not out in the wild—
“What happened?”
“The bookshelf fell on you and you had passed out shortly after,” Bakugou explained, and Shouto frowned, clearly confused.
That was not it. The book— The book had sucked him in. He was a prince. And could set himself on fire. And Bakugou was there too. And they were lovers, about to become husbands, and so he was fighting over him, and got beaten. And oh— Would Bakugou marry himself then, as he became the unquestioned champion of the contest?
“Dear god, is that blood on your face?”
His war paintings?
Unimportant. Shouto got more urgent things to do.
“Hey, Bakugou.”
“Yeah?”
He was clearly too preoccupied with checking on him and getting him to the hospital as soon as possible if needed, to really listen to him.
“Would you marry me?”
“Sure,” Bakugou said without missing a beat, before the realisation dawned on him and he shrieked rather awkwardly, “Wait, what?”
“Marry me,” Shouto repeated, far more confident, with awe watching as Bakugou’s eyes had widened almost comically. “Or we can date first, but I’m still determined to succeed one day. I had already beaten Kirishima, so—”
“YOU DID WHAT?”
“—you can ride me instead—”
“Oh my fucking god. Hospital. NOW.”
“Or maybe, in the end,
you did not lose at all...”
It was a tiring, eventful day, and Shouto was probably slowly bleeding out while Bakugou was screaming like he wasn’t the one working here as the librarian, which made him pretty much responsible for maintaining peace and shushing people down if they were too loud, but honestly - who cared? Not Shouto, humming happily, for the first time in a long time being honestly content about his life and the upcoming future...
... with so very special person right by his side.
“And so they lived happily ever after.”