Chapter Text
The battlefield was silent. Empty. His heart thudded in his ears, a slow and steady beat matching the pace of his feet over the charred and leveled ground. This was what victory looked like, a crater the size of a castle and not a living thing as far as the eye could see. The air stung his lungs, bitterly cold, and movement in the distance drew his eye. Red. The only colour, stark against blackened ground and grey sky. His heart beat faster as he approached, falling out of synch with his footsteps, throat and chest aflame as he drew near enough to see it properly.
A bandana, the black print and fringed edge distinctive enough there was no doubt whose it was. He bent to grab it, and his hand came away wet, red dripping from his fingers, splattering over the skeleton beneath him. He staggered back, throat closing up as the bandana whipped in a scorching wind, eyes watering in the heat even as each shallow, gasping breath stabbed daggers of ice out from his lungs.
Where were you? Kirishima’s voice roared in his ears, the wind knocking him to his knees, blood burning where it dripped from his hand to his pants, dragonfire creeping up his body as he struggled for air, eyes watering under the weight of his partner’s judgement.
You promised!
Katsuki shot up with a strangled gasp, chest heaving and eyes prickling hot. Just a dream. He fell back down to his bedroll and groped blindly under his pack until he found what he was looking for. The fabric was dark in the wan light of the just-past-new moon, soft in his hand, and he brought it up to his face as his breath caught in his throat. One of the scouts stirred, but they wouldn’t ask, just like he never mentioned it when one of them jerked awake at night.
His thumb rubbed over the burnt edge as he rolled onto his side, curling tighter under his blanket. It was just a nightmare, but Kirishima was still gone, and it was still his fault. They were supposed to be dedicated partners in battle, supposed to fight together, but he’d run off chasing stupid Deku and left Kirishima alone. Alone, and too close to the Great Evil to weather the magical explosion which followed its destruction. His breath hitched around the lump in his throat, a sound traitorously close to a sob slipping out, and the heat behind his eyes spilled over into what remained of Kirishima’s bandana.
“Stupid dragon.” he mumbled, breaths shuddering in and out, uneven and desperate. They were supposed to defeat the Great Evil together, not- not this. It was never supposed to end like this.
---
Living away from the tribe was nothing new. Living away from the tribe with people who weren’t Kirishima was something he never would’ve been able to even imagine, just a year ago. But without his dragon, his partner, it wasn’t like he was any use in raids. He and Kirishima were invincible, but only so long as they were together. With Kirishima gone, he was just another body on the ground, an extra in his own life. Without Kirishima, the camp felt lifeless and grey. Being on the road, even with Babyzawa and Mix’n’match for company instead of his dragon, was... not easier, because only weaklings needed to take the easy way out and he was no weakling. More manageable, that was it. It was more manageable.
“Should we move on?” Babyzawa asked, his voice quiet as ever, ringing with magic which compelled Katsuki to answer, just as it did Mix’n’match. Just as it did everyone around him.
“Fuck yes, this place is infested.”
“It isn’t safe here.”
Babyzawa nodded, and Katsuki kept a hand on his sword as they struck camp. It was a small miracle nothing had attacked them during the night, or perhaps simply a testament to the portable wards Loudmouth and Mei had asked them to test out on this trip. Mix'n'match marked off the latest entry on his list as uninhabitable, and Babyzawa turned his horse to ride not backwards or forwards along the path, but perpendicular.
“A little more to the south.” he called ahead, and got twin grunts of acknowledgement. The portable wards sat heavy in his pack as they struck out towards the secondary site. The first few weeks they’d spent out together, the silence had been awkward. With Kirishima, it had almost never been truly silent, his dragon always humming or whistling or chattering aimlessly. Silence had only fallen between them on the road if Kirishima was angry, and it had taken some time for him to realize Mix'n'match and Babyzawa just... didn’t talk much.
Katsuki leaned back in his saddle, letting his horse plod along after the others’ as he kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. They hadn’t seen any of the Great Evil’s monsters directly, but marks of their presence were everywhere. Game trails lined with blackened plants, claw marks scored into trees weeping putrid ooze, festering animal corpses no sane human would touch. Katsuki breathed deep and tilted his head back further, watching the light clouds scudding by through the gently shifting green roof of the forest.
Kirishima would’ve had something to say about it, he was sure, but Katsuki had never been one for putting words to such things. The vibrant leaves and sky, the dappled light on the branches and his travelling companions, the flame-red spikes of Kirishima’s hair, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he laughed-
Katsuki drew another deep breath, shoving down the lump which threatened to choke him up. Kirishima was gone, and it was his fault, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not even the most powerful mages could change the past. All he could do, as Aizawa had said, was make sure it didn’t happen again. He had failed his partner, his dragon, his best friend... but he didn’t have to fail his scouts. It was what Kirishima would want.