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Draped in pristine white fabrics clipped with gold jewelry glittering in the light cast by fire-lit sconces, the Oracle sits atop a throne upon a platform framed by tall spiraling columns. Their face is obscured by a gossamer veil held in place by a golden circlet resting atop a mess of dark green curls.
Katsuki ascends the steps slowly, sword dripping blood at his side. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he says, projecting his voice to the Oracle. He knows he is a fierce sight to behold, eyes rimmed with dark kohl and bare chest streaked with the evidence of the guards he cut down in his determination to get an audience.
The Oracle tilts their head and says, quietly, “I know.” Their voice is masculine but it has a curious lilt to it. Nervous, perhaps, but that sentiment is gone entirely when they next say, “I’ve been waiting for you, Katsuki Bakugou.”
He is known.
Katsuki’s stomach lurches, and a dreadful chill runs down his spine. He’s not much of a believer, never has been, but some inkling of faith has driven him here on this day to find this person, a mouthpiece for the gods in a temple protected by an army. The desperate pleas of his people had spurred him to action, but perhaps the misplaced vision he’d had the night before his departure held some truth to it after all.
He’s so far from home that he can’t let cowardice seize his heart now. The fates be damned, he was going to see this through.
Rallying his courage, Katsuki holds out his hand. “Come with me.”
There’s a long tense moment before the Oracle bows their head and leans forward to take Katsuki’s hand, curling curiously calloused fingers around Katsuki’s carefully. There are unique scars winding their way up freckled hands and forearms. Up close, he is decidedly male, which is unexpected. Rumors had always spoken of a beauty that had the favor of the gods and a wicked way with foresight, powerful enough to turn the tide of war.
That is why Katsuki is here. Turning to the mystical with the hopes of saving his people.
Katsuki forces himself to look up into the Oracle’s still-veiled face. “Good,” he says with a grin, taking hold of that hand and helping the Oracle to his feet. “Quickly now, before the gods decide to finally strike me down.”
The Oracle laughs, but it’s a soft sound that he cuts short abruptly, seemingly stifled for the sake of appearances in this hallowed hall. Katsuki appreciates the sound, but he thinks he might appreciate it more once they are clear of the oppressive atmosphere of this place.
“You’ll have to unchain me first.” The Oracle lifts his fabrics enough to expose a cuffed ankle. The chain attached to it is looped through a thick metal ring embedded in the stone platform, hidden behind the throne.
Katsuki scowls at the sight of it, his understanding of the Oracle’s situation quickly shifting. All the more justification for his quest. “Pull it taut,” he commands and lifts his sword in a tight arc, bringing it down to strike between chain links. The chain is severed, freeing the Oracle, who stumbles forward before finding his feet.
They move swiftly after that, descending the steep stairs to retrace Katsuki’s journey into the temple, marked by a pathway of carnage, but the Oracle remains unfazed. Katsuki leads the way with the Oracle a close shadow along his back, soft huffs of breath the only sounds that betray his physicality. He seems otherwise unearthly, a vision in white. Every time Katsuki glances back at him, he longs to see the features underneath that veil.
Katsuki is stealing from the gods.
That alone is crime enough to surmount whatever consequences he has wrought for himself by tearing through the men posted here like a vicious animal. He is no fool. He will face his punishment when it comes for him, whatever form it takes, but for now he must focus on succeeding here.
They are nearly to the entrance of the temple, Katsuki’s eyes already burning from the bright shine of the sun illuminating their path, when a sharp gasp from behind him makes Katsuki’s blood run cold.
Time stands still for a moment.
A guard has emerged from somewhere in the darkness to snatch the Oracle mid-flight. He holds him from behind with a tight grip around his throat, sword poised to strike as the Oracle tries to pry at his fingers with one hand to no avail. “Did you really think you could get away?”
Katsuki says nothing, simply tightens his grip on his sword.
“Ah, you really did,” he says mockingly. He begins to squeeze tighter around the Oracle’s throat, choking the breath out of him. “Our master has no use for a pretty bird who can’t–” His words are cut off suddenly as his eyes widen in shock and pain.
The Oracle tears free the dagger he has stabbed into the man’s neck, unleashing a spray of blood so violent that it immediately soaks the top of the veil that protects the Oracle’s identity and splashes over the shoulders of his white garb. The guard’s grip loosens and the Oracle pulls himself free of his grasp, stepping clear of the man’s reach as he falls onto his knees, then collapses face first in the pool of blood quickly gathering at their feet, mouth wide with frozen surprise.
Katsuki is stunned.
Not by the sight of the man, no, that is par for course in his life. He is astonished by the sight of the bloodied Oracle reaching up with stained hands to wrest the sodden veil from the crown of his head, sending the jeweled circlet flying clear across the entranceway. He is no less ethereal now, covered in gore, than he was before in pristine white.
Eyes the color of deep emeralds suddenly look at him, pinning him in place.
Katsuki’s heart jolts in his chest, his pulse picking up with a sudden sense of recognition.
He dreamed of those eyes.
He knows this man.
But there is no time to explore that possibility while the risk of capture looms over them. He forces himself to speak, saying, “I’m impressed,” and is rewarded when the full lips on that face turn up in a wry smile.
“There’s more where that came from, should we need it,” the Oracle replies, wiping the knife on his ruined clothes before spiriting it away into some pocket or holster unnoticed by Katsuki. “Shall we?”
Their flight resumes, this time uninterrupted by any further stragglers. Out into the sunlight, the Oracle wincing with pain at the sudden brightness in his eyes, then scrambling down the cliffside to the valley where Katsuki’s horse awaits hidden in a dense copse of trees some distance from the main road.
Catching his breath, Katsuki says, “This is it. No turning back. We’ll have the gods’ wrath now.”
The Oracle shakes his head, looking up from where he stands gently running his hand along the stallion’s hide with wonder and smiles brightly. “Didn’t you hear me say that I had been waiting for you?”
The two of them stare at each other for one long moment.
Remembering their initial encounter, Katsuki instead grunts and says, “Since you already know my name, it’s only fair that I know yours.”
“Izuku,” the other man replies easily. “We’ll have time for all the rest later.”
“The rest?” Katsuki asks, his brows furrowing in consternation.
Izuku nods but offers no further explanation. Katsuki sighs, aggravated at the vagaries but knowing that this is exactly what he came looking for. Well, he thinks, maybe not exactly, as he watches Izuku talk quietly to the stallion, unable to quite catch whatever he’s mumbling as he threads his fingers through the horse’s hair.
Katsuki takes a swig from his leather waterskin and offers it up to the Oracle, who accepts. Izuku drinks eagerly, perhaps a little too much as water spills down his chin. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, only succeeding in smearing dried blood on his face.
“We need to put a lot of distance between us and this damned place, but once we do, we’ll find a stream to wash up in. I brought a change of clothes to help you blend in,” Katsuki says.
“Of course. It wouldn’t do to be seen covered in the evidence of our crimes,” Izuku says cheerfully, as if murdering a man is something he’s used to and the stained clothes he wears aren’t damning on their own.
Katsuki is starting to feel less and less like he has control over the situation. Thinking of the chains that had kept the Oracle in his place, he reckons he’s a rescuer, not a kidnapper at this point. “I won’t be able to get the rest of that cuff off until we reach my city,” he notes, gesturing to the short length of a chain that trails from underneath Izuku’s clothes.
“I’ve worn it for years, I can manage a few more weeks,” Izuku says with a shrug.
At least he seems level headed enough. Katsuki tucks the waterskin into his saddlebag and rechecks the straps, assuring their security for the ride ahead. Turning back to Izuku, he gestures for him to come closer and helps give him a leg up into the saddle. He swings up behind him, crowding Izuku against the pommel of the saddle with the bulk of his body as he reaches around his waist to grab hold of the reins.
“Hold on,” Katsuki murmurs against the soft curve of his ear and grins at the way the Oracle shivers in response. He pulls on the reins to spur the horse into a gallop. The sudden shift in movement and speed pulls a laugh of delight from Izuku, who throws his head back with joy, turning his face up into the wind and sun.
Beautiful, Katsuki thinks, and promptly gets a mouthful of curly green hair as Izuku yelps in fright and nearly knocks Katsuki’s chin with the back of his head as he leans against him for support when the stallion makes a leap over a fallen tree trunk in their path. He grips Katsuki’s forearms tightly for a long moment, with much more strength than Katsuki would expect, before he relaxes again.
“I told you to hold on!” Katsuki shouts, startled by proxy and suddenly worried about what he’d do if he managed to let the Oracle take a fall off his horse after coming so far for him.
“Forgive me, everything is so new!” Izuku replies, but he’s smiling again, unbothered. “But I promise I’m a quick learner.”
Katsuki can’t help the exasperation but it’s difficult to sustain in the face of such child-like wonder. Izuku’s eyes sparkle with curiosity, so much so that Katsuki can’t help but puzzle over how long he was trapped in that temple. Katsuki has many questions, but he keeps them to himself for now. After all, he’s been assured they will have time later.
Their ride is quiet with a tense undercurrent that comes with fleeing, but this atmosphere is shed for peace as the distance from that dreadful temple becomes a multitude of miles, eventually enough that Katsuki is certain they aren’t being pursued.
When he says as much to Izuku, the other man sighs with relief and the tension bleeds out from his shoulders. “Thank you,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder to look at Katsuki. “I’m really glad you came to kidnap me.”
Katsuki may not quite understand the enormity of what he’s done, but he’s confident, as he usually is, that he’s made the right decisions.
As night falls that first evening, Katsuki sits by the fire and watches the face of his bloodied, surprisingly fierce and bright Oracle go lax with sleep, a satisfied smile on his lips, and he looks forward to the future.