Chapter Text
Izuku grew up in a tiny little town, made up of golden-tinted straw buildings. He had a special blanket, dappled with diamonds and gold-studded edges. Izuku never liked it as a kid, nor did he like it now; the shine of the gold was too bright, the extravagant jewels uncomfortable and heavy and cold as they pressed into his skin. The sharp edges pricked him, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it difficult to sleep.
His mother told him that it was his father’s only gift. He didn’t like it very much, but he wouldn’t say that out loud. That was rude. Mom said to never be rude, to never take things for granted, and, she would tell him this last part very sternly, never be greedy.” Izuku never considered himself greedy, not for riches and jewels at least.
One day, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to tell his friends, but Kacchan would just call him mean things, like ‘coward’, or ‘baby’ (he was not a baby). So instead he went to old man Yagi and whispered in his ear that he didn’t like his dad's blanket.
And so Yagi Toshinori made him a new blanket, one he liked a lot better. It had been woven from simple wool, nothing special, but as Izuku grew older he began to appreciate the craftsmanship, every fiber woven carefully so that it did not fray and stayed comfortable and soft. When Inko found out, she went to Yagi. Nervous and wide-eyed he watched as she and Yagi went away to talk about things that he wasn’t supposed to hear. Like what his punishment would be.
Eventually they came out of the room and Izuku apologized and Inko told him it was fine. She said he wasn’t being greedy by asking for a new blanket, and anyways being greedy was okay sometimes, as long as he asked permission for what he wanted.
Izuku wished Yagi was his father so he could make more blankets for him. So he asked Yagi for permission to be his father so he could make more blankets. Yagi only chuckled and said he would give Izuku something even better when he was older.
Mom gave him a wary look at that, and he sent her a weird look back. Izuku wished he could understand, but it was really hard. And they never told him what looks like that meant.
_____
“Kacchan is so cool!” Izuku cried, his short arms flailing about. “D-did you see what he did with his hands? His dad was a demon, he says that’s how he did it. His sweat can explode, Tsubasa’s dad told me that, do you think it could do anything else? Maybe he could make exploding pouches if he filled them with sweat!”
“Young Bakugo with such a weapon...” Yagi sighed. “Don’t give the little spitfire ideas, my boy.” he smiled fondly.
“But he’s so cool!”
“And you are clever. That is just as valuable.” Yagi smiled. “Perhaps I would still be the greatest hero of the village if I’d had more tricks up my sleeve. Perhaps I could have avoided my injury.” For the first time, he peeled back his shirt and allowed Izuku to see. It was horrible, and Izuku could almost feel the pain it must have brought.
Izuku looked up. Yagi’s stories, as false as the other kids said they were, were so vibrant and wonderful and Izuku’s imagination grabbed hold of them by the scruff and made them feel so real that Izuku had dreams of him and Kacchan by Yagi’s side, facing down monsters.
(He called him ‘dad’ in those dreams...but Kacchan said that if his real dad had left it was because Izuku didn’t deserve one. Inko had made him apologize but Izuku was still careful to avoid that wistful word, just in case he was right.)
_____
Izuku watched in awe as golden wings cut through the sun, the sky dragon’s wingspan as large as Izuku imagined. This particular dragon was deemed the town’s protector; a few other travelers reported settlements where dragons would watch over the humans at all times. Never harming, just…staring. Izuku’s village was not like that. Their dragon seldom made its presence known until a threat - usually a much less friendly dragon - appeared on the horizon.
This was the first time Izuku had seen the beast. The only other instance he had been too sick. Kacchan had taunted him, telling him that he was so scrawny and weak that the universe decided he wasn’t worthy of seeing such a powerful creature.
But now, Izuku knew Bakugo was wrong. The blonde was still as worthy of praise as he said he was, but his skill with the sword and his magical ability had given him a rather haughty exterior; one often shown off at the expense of Izuku gaining a few burns. At that particular moment, he had seen it fit to shout at the sky, “Come down, dragon! I’ll show you what a powerful warrior I am!” before he was hushed by one of the older villagers.
“Show your respect, boy. You are a fine warrior, but this is a dragon. Can you not see that even the smallest dragons have the claws, teeth, and fire to raze our entire village to the ground?”
Kacchan frowned. “I want to become as powerful as a dragon, old man. I was told whatever ambition I held would come true.” he glared, pure confidence in those red eyes and sharp smirk, and Izuku felt pride for his friend. Whatever impossible dreams he had, Kacchan would find a way to achieve them. And maybe, if Kacchan could do such things, Izuku may find the same strength in himself. Maybe he’d be good enough, so Kacchan would stop leaving burns on his skin.
The ice-scaled dragon, who had been about to freeze over the village, roared furiously, and the golden dragon made the strange chirping noises that Izuku knew was dragon speech. They exchanged chirps and growls and other noises that rang through the sky loud and clear. Strangely, the golden dragon’s speech was slow and awkward, the chirps hesitant and quiet. Had he forgotten how to speak?
Either way, the winter dragon soon departed, the cold leaving with it. Izuku kind of liked the coldness, but the rest of the village was relieved that the danger had passed, so Izuku held his tongue.
_____
It had been long ago. Inko loved to hike up the nearby mountain during the frosty months, just to feel how cold and brittle the air was and to be thankful for the warmth of her village.
It was on one such trek that she’d come upon a man, his hair as white as the snow he was buried in. She had rescued him, and though he’d questioned how a scavenger such as herself could possibly carry a dragon as large as he, his delirium seemed to fade after a few days.
Yagi Toshinori had been another newcomer, though that label had begun to fade even at the time Hisashi arrived. He loved speaking of his heroic feats to the children, though he was met with laughter from the ruder ones. Inko loved those stories, and she had a strange feeling that there was a grain of truth to them. They were far too visceral, far too knowledgeable of dragons for the stories to be fabricated truths.
In fact, Yagi and Hisashi got along extremely well. She would see them exchanging grins and talking about their feats together. Hisashi would always follow up Yagi’s with “How impressive, it reminds me of when I…” and then spouted a story so ridiculous it made Inko chuckle. Yagi would always respond with “You really are twice the hero I am, Hisashi.”
Hisashi loved to bring her to the snowy mountain, and there he would lay the flattery on thick. She would always accept it with amusement but tell him he need not try so hard. He responded, always, with more whimsical talk of how she was greater than all the gold and diamonds he possessed, and he would take her to see it someday.
A lovely sentiment, but she would not see it. It didn’t exist, after all.
It had been almost an entire year when things started to go wrong.
Hisashi’s stories had started to make Yagi nervous, he said. The man slipped on his words, spoke of wings and sharp teeth as if he owned them. In those stories, his actions, though framed in the same heroic way, would be horrible tales of what he did to enemies who barely qualified as such.
Perhaps, Yagi said, he was a dragon.
Inko was immediately dismissive, but she couldn’t help notice the newfound possessive look in Hisashi’s eyes whenever she was around. He had stopped being friendly to Yagi, any stories the man told rudely interrupted and one-upped with horrible, gore-filled tales. Hunger shining through in his eyes. And then, Inko awoke one night to see Hisashi looking over her bed, his eyes slitted.
She screamed in fear, punching her husband in the nose, but her husband didn’t seem to mind, his sprouting wings encircling her as he spoke of how his horrible curse was almost over, how he’d surround her with gold and treasures she’d never seen. His clawed hands reached for her, and Inko knew he would not scratch her.
She had bolted out of the room, flung open the door, and ran outside.
The village was evacuated a year after Hisashi’s arrival, and it took a month before the black-scaled dragon stopped circling the tattered remnants of his old village. The dragon gently picked up an empty cradle and left, his wings dragging in the sky.
Yagi, who had saved her life, stood over the crib of her baby, sword raised, and she only stared at him. He was so skinny now, a skeletal figure of an old man, his stories even less believable than before. She made no move to stop him, knowing there was no need. He was far too kind.
The sword clattered to the floor, and Inko firmly frowned as he fell to the floor with apologies on his tongue.
“Get out.”
As she pushed Yagi out, he turned to her and promised that he would protect young Midoriya from Hisashi if he returned.
She took one look at the now bone-thin man and snorted. His life was a frayed thread of its former self, how could he possibly protect Izuku now?
He showed her, and that night Inko held Izuku close and refused to let go, halfway between laughter and sobs.
Of course, those two would be the same.
_____
Izuku sighed, seeing his own breath reflected in the cold air. He’d climbed up this mountain, as per Yagi’s request, and he was ready to see what Yagi wanted to show him. Excitement fizzled in his gut, but old man Yagi was nowhere to be found. Was he running late? Izuku couldn’t imagine how the skinny old man could have made his way up.
Maybe he got sick. Maybe he collapsed. The thought made Izuku feel a well of panic rise up, and his boots, the ones Yagi claimed were the same ones he wore during half of his adventures, crunched through the snow. They reached to his knee, and good thing too, as the snow was packed high up.
The place felt almost comforting. Weirdly. The snow felt nice on his back, like a dip in the warmest pond. He felt no shivers, nor did he feel tired. Instead, energy surged through his bones.
At that moment, the mountain exploded in color as a long, reptilian body slashed through the air, rising above the mountain Izuku had climbed. A slow, elegant loop powered by wings that brushed the edges of the surrounding cliffs miles away from each other. Izuku took a step back, his breath catching in his throat, as the shining white sky was blanketed by those wings, stars littering the leathery folds and making it seem like a clear, warm night in the village rather than the middle of a snowstorm.
Finally, the creature slowly, gracefully landed, its claws kicking up a storm of snow that Izuku could somehow see through without blinking.
He gasped, and then backed up. A dragon. It was a dragon. Not one that Izuku had ever seen or read of, with scarlet eyes and scales a volcanic black.
Not a swamp dragon, though the shoulders were broad, the snout was too curved. It had the grace of a sky dragon, yet it lacked the fire-like scales. And no dragon had black scales.
“Little scavenger…”
It spoke in a strange accent, each syllable roughed up with growls, but words that Izuku understood with his own ears.
“D-dragons can’t speak human!” he cried. “How are you-”
A chuckle that rumbled the ground, and a long, dangerous claw pushed Izuku’s chin up so his vermillion orbs met the dragon’s own.
“Ah, you seem to enjoy the snow as much as my dear little brother. Perhaps you have some dragon in you after all.”
Izuku gulped. “A-are you going to give me the present? I was told t-that I could have it for Christmas…”
“Chris-mas?” it questioned. “Please remind me of that custom.” the snout peeled back into an amused grin, each tooth razor sharp. The black scales took up Izuku’s vision, the only thing reminding him of where they were was the snowflakes and the cold.
“Presents? Your loved ones give you g-gifts, yo-you find the tallest, dark-leafed tree, decorate it with handmade trinkets...” he squeaked, stumbling over words. “I was sent here by Y-yagi, are you-”
“ Yagi ! ”
The thunderous roar was far, far too loud, and Izuku cried out, covering his ears as the cacophony of ringing stabbed his ears. The world blurred into a soundless mess, and he shivered from the reverb, his ears stinging, for a minute before he could hear noises again.
“...can you hear me, little one?”
“P-please don’t do that again.” he wheezed.
“You are as weak as my brother…” he cooed adoringly, and Izuku felt panic rise as he was scooped up in one enormous black claw. This dragon’s digits were more like fingers than other species of dragon, they bent more, and there was something resembling a clawed thumb. Izuku wished he’d brought his notebook to jot it all down.
“Oh, no need to worry. I can summon all your belongings with a single thought if I wish.”
“D-did I say that out loud?” he whimpered. He was sure that habit had been tempered by the flames of Kacchans stinging words and disapproving frowns of the teachers.
“No, little one. I am All for One, the all-powerful king of the Nightwing tribe.” he smiled. “It is more impressive than it sounds. I am the first king of dragons to exist, as the females usually lead dragon colonies. Yet my leadership was enough for the rules of nature to be broken.” His wings enveloped Izuku, until now there was nothing left of the snowy mountain, only a dark crimson night punctuated by red, blue, and green stars. It was all-encompassing, and the nice, free feeling of the cold wind was replaced by a stifling warmness that made Izuku uncomfortable.
“Y-you’re going to give m-me something?” Izuku questioned, his hand reaching for the only sword he had mastered the use of, a small, sharp thing. “I t-though Yagi-”
“The old fool allowed me to do the honors.” he purred, a long tail reaching up and pushing the sword back into its scabbard. “We’ve known each other for quite some time, you see. Back before you were conceived of, even. Before you hatched.”
“I didn’t hatch,” he murmured.
“Ah, forgive me again. It has been long since I was reduced to a pathetic scavenger. Their customs have faded from my immortal mind. Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way, as that small period of hardship brought you to me. My little Akatani…”
The dragon’s wide maw frowned. “What? She didn’t name you Akatani?” he sighed. “Very well. Izuku.” the name sounded bitter on the forked tongue, before the tone smoothed over like goat butter.
“My son.”
Izuku finally realized what the great dragon was speaking of. “M-me? No, you got it wrong, I’m a human!”
“Perhaps. But so was I, when I met Inko. Now, allow me to introduce you to your greater family. Leave behind your scavenger roots, and I will grant you the wonders and riches I have earned.”
I was given a dragons blanket?
“You didn’t like my blanket?” the dragon pouted. “I crafted it from magic to be perfect for any hatchling.” suddenly he sighed. “Ah…”
“Yeah…” Izuku looked down. “I would like to go back to my village. Perhaps you could come to visit sometimes?”
“Nonsense. I am the king of all dragons, and you will see my kingdom.”
Izuku felt a shiver run up his spine. “I-I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Of course you do! But I must show you before you get that choice.” the words were exactly what Izuku had wanted to hear. Mind reading…
“Okay…” Izuku said. “But please promise that this holds no trickery. I wish to see my family again.”
“No friends? How sad, I’m sure you’ll make many as we traverse my kingdom.”
“Okay…” Izuku said. Despite himself, he felt a pulse of excitement. He’d get to see things that not even the greatest warriors had. He could find out every secret dragonkind had to offer, taught by the one dragon who could speak the same language as humans.
Maybe...this would go well? He just had to hope.
_____
Toshinori leapt atop the spire, his claws digging into the stone. His slitted gaze swiveled around, looking for young Midoriya, his tail almost wagging with excitement. The boy should be here by now, ready to receive the power of All Might, the inheritance of One for All, the power that could keep him safe from the clutches of the tyrant king All for One. The magic scroll.
Yet the boy wasn’t there. Fear was lit under the human’s stomach as his eyes caught sight of the upended snow, his wings out and carrying him to the scene before he could think. All for One’s disgusting smell littered the place, and a pained wail came from Toshinori.
He took my hatchling , the dragon thought.
He took my boy , the human thought.
And he roared and took off, catching the winds on his wings.