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Izuku wraps his arms tight around his mother as she blubbers on his shoulder. The way he shifts his hands is awkward, as if he isn't sure how to comfort her after months of not seeing her face.

With long hair and darkened eyes painted pale to make him ethereal, Izuku looks different than Katsuki remembers, even from this far away. Katsuki leans against the stall of his horse, taking in Izuku's ornate wear, his veil-covered mouth.

His manner of dress is indicative to his position now— better than the rest of them. Something to be praised for his every step, until he takes his soon-to-be last.

There are two people on either side of him, holding paper fans to block him from the harsh midday sun. Ever since he'd been chosen as this decade's sacrifice, he's not been left alone. Taken from his mother when he was just coming of age, he's been trained and retrained for the moments leading up to his death.

Inko is beside herself, clinging to him so tight that it's almost like she wishes she could reverse time and never have let him go in the first place. She clings to him tightly, fingers fisting hard enough in his obi that she leaves barely-there wrinkles in the soft silk.

Katsuki clicks his tongue and turns towards his horse. Not like she had a choice in the matter anyway. Izuku had been one of the dozen children born just after a harsh blight on their land— and one of the only ones healthy enough to survive into adulthood.

Izuku… and Katsuki. And Izuku is the one that was chosen. Katsuki was luckier in that regard, he supposes.

"Captain."

Katsuki turns to regard the soldier that has wandered up to him. As leader of the guard, and the best soldier their clan has ever seen, he was chosen to oversee the transport of their chosen sacrifice. It's a role he has been trained for since he chose this vocation, if not for his own personal reasons than because of the desolate climate that the sacrifice will have to ride through to get to his destination. Izuku is to be sent up to the mountains.

The mountains— shiny spears pointed at the throats of the heavens. Their frosted tips are where blood runs cold, and their green, forest-lined bottoms are where the blood dries, roots, and sprouts to life again.

It isn't against the laws of their land to wander up to those peaks, but it is a fool's errand. Harrowing drops are covered by snowfall and thin sheets of ice, and that is all that waits for you there; most nights you'll go hungry as you hope to reach the top. One wrong step, and you'll plummet straight through the middle of the mountain and land yourself in Hell.

But that's where Izuku is to be sent, so that's where he'll go.

Katsuki grunts as a shield is passed to him from the soldier, as ordered earlier that morning. The insignia of their clan has been freshly blazoned into the metal, and he rubs his thumb across the protrusions of it. Matching artistry is stitched into the back of Izuku's robe, visible when he turns to bow thankfully to the priests and priestesses that have come to see him off after training him.

Katsuki straps his shield to his side, letting it fall there like a cold shackle on a convicted man's wrists.

"Gather the men. We ride immediately."

In the distance, Inko wails again. When Katsuki glances over, she has fallen to her knees in her grief, and Izuku is hurriedly wiping his own dewy eyes as he tries to make promises to her that he can't keep. Katsuki tries to pretend that he clenches his jaw because he's irritated by the noise, and not because of why she's crying.

And who is he to get in between a mother's last embrace with her son?

"… As soon as he's done," Katsuki amends, waving his hand to dismiss the soldier.

---

Katsuki allows the procession to go slow for the first hour of the trip.

This is when they ride through the town, and everyone wants to marvel at the figure in the middle of them all. Though their tribe leaders had wanted him to ride completely hidden from view— toted around in a palanquin like a valuable jewel displayed just before it's melted into scrap metal— Izuku was a symbol of something greater. Hope.

So, instead, he is on a horse like the rest of them. The only things uncovered on him are his eyes and his hands.

Compared to the light metal armor and the leathers that his people wore, Izuku was dressed in the finest that hands could make within the short few months after his deathday was decided. Ornate kimonos layer across his shoulders and back like a rainbow that tucks beneath his hakama, and a hand-embroidered haori hangs overtop of it all. His head is hidden by a pale hood that leaves shadows across his eyes, and everything below that is covered by a wispy veil that floats with every breeze.

He looks like a god that has fallen and needed to be transported back to heaven. Katsuki knows he must be sweating like all hell under all those layers. Though it's winter, it isn't cold enough to need more than a heavier shirt. There isn't even a speck of snow on the ground, not this deep into the valley.

Katsuki grunts, jerking his head away when Izuku's gaze sweeps from right to left, nodding ceremonially to each person he catches eyes with. His horse, irritated by proxy, flicks her tail and trots on just a bit faster. As such, the procession shaves off a few minutes of the display.

Once there are no more little people to nod his goodbyes to, Izuku curls in under his robes and his veil and his hair, and it's almost as though he isn't there at all anymore.

Izuku is set to be killed by the winter solstice. They only have a few weeks until then. Katsuki only has to deal with his irritation until then, and then after…

Well.

It won't be his problem anymore.

---

They stop just outside of the city, hidden behind a line of trees.

His soldiers, who until then had sat rigidly straight and silent, quickly fall into their usual rowdy behavior. The handmaids who had been assigned to Izuku had fallen off in the middle of town (as was ordered), and so Izuku is left to figure out his horse on his own as Katsuki's men take a much needed break. Two hours and they've barely made any leeway into their journey. What a load of shit.

Katsuki drops from his horse and glances over as Izuku practically falls out of his saddle. His clothes reach the ground first, and the edge of his low-hanging sleeves get tangled with a few hanging straps that hadn't been secured properly.

Frankly, he's lucky he hadn't been bucked off and killed that way, then.

Katsuki stomps his way over, and, just as Izuku has gotten his foot unstuck from the stirrup, reaches to help him the rest of the way out of it.

His mind blanks, just for a moment, as his fingers dig ever so slightly into the small amount of pudge on Izuku's belly, evidence of his opulent lifestyle while he was being trained. Yet, below that, Katsuki can still feel a wall of muscle, which tenses firmly as he lifts Izuku straight off the saddle.

"… Like this."

"Oh!"

Izuku squirms a bit in his hold, but he's light enough that Katsuki doesn't struggle with that or the weight of him, muscles be damned. Once Izuku is set flat on his feet, Katsuki turns towards getting his sleeve untangled next. He has to drop to one knee to do it, and Izuku makes a startled noise.

"Oh—please don't worry about that. I can do it—"

"I've got it," Katsuki grunts, ignoring the way Izuku's fingers pass across his, trying to shoo him away. The silk feels strange across his calloused fingers, but all he has to do is unbuckle a part of the saddle to get it free. The mare stays obediently still the entire time, ears flicking lazily as the conversation around them picks up.

When Katsuki finishes, Izuku is about as red as a strawberry even beneath his scarf hood. Katsuki resists pinching one of his freckled cheeks between his fingers, like he did when they were younger. If only because the sight of the scars on either side of Izuku's jaw give him pause.

It's decorative scarring, visible for all sacrifices though Katsuki never chose to learn why. As far as he's concerned, it's just an easy way to mark them for death. The other members of his guard spoke about it a few times, though they always finished before he could yell at them to get back to work.

"Thank you," Izuku breathes, bowing his head deeply. "I promise not to be such a hassle on this journey. I know many of you didn't get a choice in this matter, so—"

The inflection of his voice is entirely different from what Katsuki remembers from when they grew up. Where he was all mumbles and contractions where there should be none, he spoke quietly and slowly so that each letter had its proper space against his tongue.

Katsuki reaches a hand out to lay it against Izuku's shoulder. It startles the other silent all over again, and Katsuki isn't sure why that makes his stomach feel empty and heavy.

"Forget about it." Katsuki lets his hand drop, though the warmth of Izuku has already seeped below the surface and left it feeling tingly. "Just rest your legs and be ready to mount in a few minutes. We have a long day of traveling ahead after that mess."

"Right." Izuku nods obediently, tucking his arms around himself. He looks so small, demure. It's strange when Katsuki remembers that boy he used to play with as a child who had sticks in his hair, a missing tooth, dirt beneath his fingernails, scraped knees. Daily.

Katsuki squeezes his hand into a tight fist, to hold onto the heat Izuku had left him, but it has already petered out into something cool.

With nothing left to say, Katsuki turns to tend to his soldiers. Before he can, though, a strong hand wraps around his bicep and tugs him back. When he lifts a curious brow, Izuku dips his head, embarrassed. But his hand squeezes until he says, gently,

"Thank you, Kacchan."

Katsuki clicks his tongue at him, but Izuku's small smile is visible even through his veil.

Katsuki leaves him. Still, the sight of him stays emblazoned in his mind.

---

"Kacchan!"

Katsuki's head darts up from where he'd been nearly asleep at his desk. Outside his window is that freckle-faced boy that he's grown up with, all toothy smiles and skinned palms from where he probably tripped on his way over.

Katsuki cackles at him as he hurriedly hops onto his tabletop, shoving the window up and open so that he can fall out to join his friend.

His mom will probably yell at him later, but Izuku hasn't been able to play with him much recently!

Katsuki grabs Izuku by the backs of his hands and turns them palm up.

"Dummy," he sighs.

"Hi, Kacchan," Izuku says with a cheeky grin, entirely uncaring of the ache in his hands. "I came to see you. Mama snuck me out for the day."

Katsuki leads Izuku over to the quiet corner of the garden, where a hedge has grown so tall that it's easy to climb it to sneak past the fence and head for the forest. They won't do that today, though. Katsuki doesn't want Izuku to get thorns in his hand too.

"Where do you even go all the time?" Katsuki huffs. "We haven't played since last week, and my mom keeps making me do training exercises with her instead."

"But I thought Kacchan wanted to get stronger?" Izuku says, a mischievous light sparkling behind his fluttering eyelashes.

Katsuki shoves him into the dirt with a playful snort, and Izuku tugs him down with him.

For a moment, they wrestle like usual and it's like nothing has changed. Like Katsuki doesn't have ointment covered blistered from holding a sword too tight, and like Izuku doesn't have a haunted look beneath the surface.

Katsuki knows something is wrong when they end up on their backs, panting at the sky, and Izuku reaches over to hold his hand so tight that it hurts.

His chest aches as he tries to catch his breath, but he squeezes back. Izuku sniffles beside him.

The mood between them grows tepid, like when a warm broth is left out too long after dinner. Katsuki can almost feel the slimy film across his tongue.

"Do you… do you wanna know where I go all the time, Kacchan?"

"Of course, dummy. You aren't getting into trouble are you? Need me to bail you out?"

Izuku laughs, but it isn't like his usual one. Where his giggles sometimes break like bubbles and are full of joy, this one instead reminds Katsuki of the laughs he hears from the priestesses who leave the temples early in the mornings. Quiet, resigned, as if they aren't used to laughing anymore and are doing it out of formality.

Izuku falls quiet, and the sound hangs between them like a bridge. Katsuki opens his mouth to speak, but Izuku, for once, interrupts him.

"Mama says I'm gonna be sacrificed. They chose me."

"They chose…?" The worlds tangle up inside of him, and Katsuki quickly falls silent.

He doesn't have to look over to know that Izuku's eyes have squeezed shut to try to stop the way they swell with tears. He knows it by the way Izuku's fingers tremble, digging little crescent-shapes with his nails into Katsuki's almost-calloused skin.

Soon he'll have enough skin toughened there that it won't hurt to hold a sword or a shield. If he had hurried, been better at his training lessons with his mom, maybe it wouldn't hurt when Izuku clung to him so tightly, either.

In order to ensure that the gods continue blessing their lands, their village sends sacrifices up the mountains. The last time there had been a chosen one was before either of them were born, but everyone in the village knew about the ceremony. The families of the sacrifices receive the first blessings, always taken care of in the village no matter if they work or not. It's a great honor, but still a great loss.

Katsuki makes a promise in that moment, quick like the flash of a lightning bug. To himself, and to Izuku, though he never gets the chance to say it out loud.

He'll get stronger.

"I want Kacchan to be with me. To… to make sure I make it there."

At that, Katsuki shoots up off of the bed of grass.

Not much is known about the ceremony. There are depictions of it in books and painted in murals on walls that have been sunbaked for centuries and, thus, look only like hazy memories. All Katsuki knows is that it's on the mountains, and that the sacrifice never returns. Sometimes, neither do the soldiers that lead them up there, too.

It's a hard job, becoming a leader of the guard, especially one chosen to take a sacrifice up a forsaken mountain.

But Katsuki is stubborn to the core. If he wants to become a barbarian captain, he will become one. There are few things that matter to him more than his best friend, after all.

Gently, Katsuki lays back down beside Izuku, looking up at the sky that, now, seems empty.

Izuku continues, shakily but resolutely. "Kacchan is the only one who will do it perfectly. Maybe… maybe no one else will have to die after me if we do it right. Maybe we'll be blessed forever!"

"Deku…"

Izuku shifts beside him. The grass rustles beneath his body, and soon both of his hands are cupping around Katsuki's, as if to strengthen the conviction inside of him.

"Will you, Kacchan?"

Katsuki closes his eyes. Izuku sniffles. Beyond that, a bird chirps as it flies across the town in search of its home. The flap of its wings are quiet in comparison to the song it sings, the same way Izuku's hand sliding against his is quieter than his breathing.

"… Fine," Katsuki says.

He sits Deku up once his crying has calmed, carefully smearing away the remaining tear tracks with the curve of his thumb. Then he carefully curls his palm around the back of Izuku's hand. "I promise, Deku. I'll protect you all the way up to that shitty ceremony. You hear me?"

When he squeezes tight, Izuku's shoulders drop, relaxed at the familiar pressure that is his best friend's touch. Izuku leans forward to press his forehead against Katsuki's curved knuckles.

"Thank you, Kacchan," he sniffles. "I… I'll work just as hard. I promise."

---

Izuku still can't get on his horse by himself after their break. He struggles every time, one leg caught in the stirrup and the other helplessly caught on the horse's rump as he tries in vain to yank himself over.

Katsuki watches from his own steed, a firm hand on her neck to keep her calm. Her hooves clop against the waning cobblestone path as she shifts back and forth, the same as Izuku's horse does the longer it takes for his rider to get himself situated.

A number of other guards around them snicker beneath their breath, but a sharp look from him draws them silent again.

With a slow sigh, the heat of it huffed out of his nose, Katsuki dismounts from his horse and stomps his way over. His cape dances in the wind that picks up. When he stops in front of Izuku's struggling form, it hides them both from view. The sharp color of it, red like a ruby, casts a warm shadow across Izuku's covered features.

"Thought I taught you how to do this already."

Izuku startles, and nearly ends up flat on his back. Katsuki dips forward to catch him, palms against his waist so that the only damage is a lost shoe on the other side of the horse.

The horse's tail flicks out irritably, and Katsuki clicks his tongue so that it won't buck.

"You need to balance yourself, Deku. Then throw your leg over."

"I tried!" Izuku groans, pushing off of Katsuki's chest to stand up straight. He's wrapped in layers of opulent clothing, but through the material he can still barely see the outline of Izuku's body. His arms are tangled in long sleeves, which no doubt are hampering the motion entirely.

Katsuki sighs again.

"Put your hands here."

Katsuki reaches up so that Izuku's palms wrap around the horn of the saddle. The horse is large so he has to strain on the tips of his toes a bit, but Katsuki is quick to place his palms against the curve of his hips and lift him the rest of the way.

Izuku barely muffles a shriek as he suddenly finds himself in the air, and his feet dangle uselessly for a moment until he's able to seat them firmly in the stirrups.

"There we go," Katsuki says, mostly to the horse but also to Izuku who flusters and ducks his head down. "Settle in. Take your time. Then we'll head out."

Katsuki reaches into the saddlebag, his other hand finding the reins of the horse and gripping it firmly in one palm.

Izuku's fingers fret across his clothes, fixing his obi and straightening his sleeves. There are quite a few layers he's swathed in, but his haori is the most eye-catching of all. It matches his spirit, greens and reds and blacks prevalent throughout the design. His hood, though, had fallen off and was partially tamped into the dirt by his horse.

Izuku hasn't noticed yet, it seems, but Katsuki notices a few guards looking a little too close at him.

Katsuki shoves his hand into the saddlebag and pulls out a dark shawl, handing it over with a grunt.

"The sun will be high soon. Don't want you to burn."

Izuku blinks owlishly, but nods his head. "Thank you, Kacchan."

His fingers are purposefully delicate as he plucks the veil from Katsuki, and he's quick to tuck it over his head and hide himself from view. It's lighter than the one Izuku had before, and the dark color sticks out a bit compared to the airy lights that he'd been stuffed in before.

But it looks good on him. A deep red. Katsuki's favorite color.

When Katsuki glares back at the rest of their guard, the men are wisely looking away. Izuku wasn't meant to be gazed upon like he's a spectacle or a show.

Which is why Katsuki forces himself not to look up again. Instead he urges the horse forward, grabbing the reins of his own with his other hand.

"Move out," he orders. "And keep your eyes to yourself, lest you want to lose them."

For much of the trip that day, Katsuki leads Izuku's horse with the reins in his hands and the feel of his stare against the back of his neck.

---

Izuku stops appearing at his window once they reach puberty.

He lives in the main temple by then, and Inko is left all alone in their little cottage now that he's gone. Most days, Katsuki sees her sitting at the kitchen table in his own house, with his mom and dad on either side of her. Sometimes, she'll be patching Izuku's old clothes. Others, she's just staring into a cup of warm tea that seems to, in equal parts, strengthen and weaken her.

He leaves them alone, though he doesn’t let the lull in his mother's attention be his excuse to not train. He has a promise to keep, after all. And if she shoots him approving glances when noon turns to dusk and he's still out practicing in the yard, he ignores it.

None of the three adults know that he's planning to become captain of the guard. It'll be a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

---

Katsuki sits on a log by the slow river, hands feeling along the edge of his blade for any nicks. But his eyes stay on the sunlight that weaves between the trees. The red-orange ombre left behind leaves him feeling tired, but there's always work to be done even when night draws near.

They set up camp earlier than dusk, as it was foolish to try to scrounge for shelter in the woods when it was too dark out. Especially with as many bodies they had in their traveling group. So Katsuki had them pull off the path, just a bit, so that they could water the animals, prepare a nice hearty meal that would, most likely, be harder to enjoy the higher up they got on the mountain, and to chase off the stress of having to parade through town all day. (Though he knows for a fact that some of them had enjoyed it.)

And, well… For one other reason.

Katsuki can hear Izuku's footsteps trawling closer, even slower than the river's flow. Katsuki doesn't look over, but he does scoot onto one side of the log, a silent invitation.

Izuku sits on it and, as he does, carefully smooths his silk underclothes: his silk hiyoku and beneath that, his plain cotton nagajuban. Much thinner than the kimonos from before, but no less opulent. The rest of the outfit had been left behind in the tent that the temple insisted Izuku use, so as not to mar up his body with bites and bruises before it's time. Wouldn’t want to give a god an ugly fruit, after all.

"Thank you for all your hard work today, Kacchan."

"Mm."

Katsuki glances resolutely down at his sword, yet still watches in his periphery how Izuku folds his hands neatly over each other. He sits like he's about to serve a king, and Katsuki wonders, not for the first time, how often he'd been punished for that weird way he used to sit as a child— all sprawled out like someone had dropped skeins of yarn and they got tangled together.

He wonders if Izuku ever resents the fact that he was chosen.

Katsuki forces himself to instead wonder if he should sharpen his blade now, or leave it for the morning. It'll be a slow start, surely, seeing as the guards had struggled with putting up that yurt-like tent of Izuku's.

As if he knows he's orbiting through Katsuki's thoughts, Izuku reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. Katsuki is startled to realize he isn't wearing a shawl again.

"Your hair is still a mess of curls," Katsuki snorts, suddenly.

"Kacchan," Izuku squawks, quickly ducking his head to try to hide it from view. As if his hands alone could tame the snarl of his brushed through locks. It looks like many have tried in vain to get it to lay flat and straight. The curls looked best in their natural state, anyway.

"They tried to have me grow them out— but the longer they got, the more they pointed straight up to the sky," Izuku admits. "Like grass shoots."

Katsuki's laugh comes out coarser than he means it to, but Izuku's lips wobble up as he holds back his own silent chuckle.

It's only by some sort of childhood reflex that he finds himself reaching over to tangle his fingers in Izuku's hair, feeling the heat of his scalp against his fingertips as he slides them through until they gently catch on a tangle here and there. Just as quickly and gently as he carded through them, Katsuki pulls his hand back to guide his sword back into its sheath.

When he glances up again, Izuku has tilted his head away, ducking down so that the only thing Katsuki can see are the outline of his lips in the shadow of his face, and the silhouette of his eyelashes reflecting the waning sunlight. This close to the heart of winter, it gets dark quickly. The summery oranges and yellows of sunset give way to blue shade, but Katsuki doesn't mind it.

He only really notices the change in temperature when a soft breeze curls across his back, a punctuation to the easy silence that has suddenly happened upon them.

Izuku circles his arms around himself, covering his shoulders with his palms as the cool air cuts right through his thin layerings.

"Where is your armor?" Izuku asks, before Katsuki can shoo him back to camp.

"It was all ceremonial, for the ride through the city. That shit is too heavy for actual battle, unless we're going up against ogres."

Truthfully, he'd be happy burying it and letting it become the home of a snake or a squirrel. He didn't mind the ceremony, but his fighting style didn't rely on heavy armor. All he needed was a good, thick leather piece around his gut to protect all those important bits, and he could go about his day.

Izuku tucks a lock of hair behind his ear again. It slips out from the angle of his head, but Izuku doesn't try to fix it for a third time. "So you will be… like this? The entire time?"

Katsuki looks down at himself.

He's mostly adorned in his cape, though he'd only just peeled off his preferred loose leather jerkin, which he mainly wears to sleep in. Sleeveless and light, it didn't leave him drenched in sweat despite what it's made of. This close to winter, he'll travel like this or with a stuffed coat on so that he won't be overrun by a winter sickness before it's his time.

But, generally… he'll be like this. Bare-chested except around the shoulders and back.

"Don't like what you see?" Katsuki teases.

Izuku shoots him an exasperated look, but it loses its fire when he quickly dissolves into a spluttering, shy laugh.

"I'm— going back to camp. Thank you for letting me borrow your time, if only for a moment." Izuku flits up out of his seat, like a fairy that just sprouted wings.

He rushes off with a polite bow of his head, but by the glimmering look in his eye, Katsuki knows Izuku enjoyed the teasing. If it had been a different time, he probably would have 180'd and tackled him so they could wrestle on the ground, just like when they were younger.

As it stands now, Katsuki watches as Izuku treks through the thin outcropping of trees that begins to slowly weave between them both the further he gets. Once he's back in sight of the camp, that demure, elegant mask of his slips back on. Shoulders squared, eyes politely downward, gait slow but purposeful, all the way until he retreats back into the privacy of his tent.

It's like watching a flower close in on itself, opposite of when it buds and blooms. He's tightly hidden beneath dark silk, and the noise around him slowly echoes away as the guards head towards the opposite side of the clearing so that they can leave Izuku behind. Alone.

Katsuki turns his gaze back to the lonely river, and sits there until dinner is called.

---

When Katsuki finally completes his goal, finally becomes captain, his mother places both of her hands on his shoulder and squeezes firmly.

"I'm proud of you," she says, but it's different from the other times she says it. When he'd first picked up a sword and held it properly, the words had been smug, something that granted him confidence. Now, the words are heavy— heavier than the steel blade he'd been granted along with his new title. It hangs loosely at his hip, though it's soon hidden by the cloak that his father hooks around his shoulders, incidentally hiding his mother's tight grip from view.

Katsuki grunts. "… Thanks, Ma."

His dad sniffles wetly beside him, and Mitsuki huffs as she gathers him up in one arm.

While her attention is diverted, Katsuki allows himself to glance sidelong at the temple on the furthest hill from the village. It's too far to see through the thick stone pillars, but the inside is heavily shrouded anyway, both with incense smoke and drapery alike. Still, he swears he sees a familiar shade of green peeking out past it all.

Katsuki turns his head away, but not before he lifts his hand and folds it into a tight fist. To the crowd around him, it's a signal for them to cheer about his accomplishment.

To that distant pair of green eyes, further away, it's a reminder of their promise.

---

After a dinner of warm soup and bread and a dessert of honey cakes that were rare in the winter time, all of which he takes alone in his tent, Izuku is left to himself.

The hired swords all leave to form a rather wide berth around the campsite. Some go so far that they make their own fire to warm their bedrolls for the night. Izuku would much rather be on the cold outskirts than watched by about a dozen eyes as he stumbles out of his tent, but… well, he didn't get much of a choice. He was prized merchandise for the next few weeks.

He touches his hands together, and is surprised when the fingertips are cold. His haori hangs heavy in the curve of his inner elbows, and he grunts as he lifts it back over his shoulder before tucking his hands into the low hanging sleeves.

It, combined with his underclothes, leave him a colorful pebble in an brown-grey-white sea of shoulders who otherwise stay clear of him.

He's made it about two steps out of his tent after carefully checking around to be sure he isn't disturbing anyone, when a quick hand curves around the back of his neck. Doesn't squeeze— just lays there.

"Deku."

"Eep!"

There's a moment as the low chatter around him dies, all eyes darting to him at the noise.

"K-Kacchan," Izuku greets. "Did I wake you?"

The heavy, warm palm curves around his shoulder and tugs him back half a step.

Katsuki is without his armor again, wearing even less than before. No ornate, gold plate on his chest, no helmet under one arm. In fact, his upper half is bare except for the shirt he has slung over one shoulder.

"Wasn't asleep, dummy. What are you doing out here?" Katsuki speaks, but doesn't look at him. He glances out towards the larger group, who quickly turn back to their own activities.

Izuku shrinks a bit when those eyes finally turn back to him. But, despite the look, his voice is soft. Gentle and chiding. It made Izuku feel simultaneously like a chastised child and… like something to be treasured.

"I was just a bit hungry again," Izuku admits truthfully. It was nearing midnight, but his stomach had been greedy for seconds even after the first serving had been passed around. "I was going to see if we had any leftover bean stew from this morning's breakfast. Ah— or anything is fine, really. I wasn't going to trouble anyone. I just—"

Katsuki clicks his tongue with a scowl, and Izuku falls silent.

"Stay here."

And then Izuku is left alone again. He clenches his hands beneath his sleeves as Katsuki stalks towards the fire— the smaller one off near the edge of the forest. Izuku isn't sure if Katsuki meant 'stay' as in… not to move, or if he should go back inside.

Izuku does neither. He takes quiet steps after Katsuki as soon as Katsuki has sat down, snatching a heavy wooden ladle from someone's hand. Izuku glances around nervously once he gets halfway from his tent, but all that greets him are a few fireflies that float here and there, and the hazy light of the moon behind sheets of clouds.

His heart feels trembly, like when you lift a too-heavy jug and try to pour a perfect drink.

But why is he so nervous? These people are protecting him with their lives, after all.

Yet, Izuku is familiar with looks of both contempt and reverence. He hadn't been allowed out of the temple often, but each rare instance had been a spectacle. It had been so long since the last sacrifice, some people couldn't remember that he was a human first.

Izuku still could practically hear the gossip at his back sometimes.

Why is his life worth any more than one of theirs? Because he was chosen? To these soldiers what does it matter, when they could run him through now and go back home as heroes nonetheless.

Izuku gulps, but doesn't turn back. He's come this far, right?

He stops behind Katsuki's relaxed form, hunched as he is as he heats a small cauldron. When he leans over to press just two of his fingers to Katsuki's shoulder, Katsuki doesn't startle like Izuku had.

"Kacchan," he announces himself quietly, but Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"Never were the type to listen well, were you?" Katsuki snorts, but gestures with his head towards the empty spot next to him. "Sit, if you don't mind your fancy robes getting dirty."

"Ah— excuse me," Izuku ducks, hurriedly dropping to his knees. When he is careful to tuck his hiyoku tighter around his legs, careful not to flash skin, someone makes a noise that could have been the beginnings of a laugh.

By the time Izuku's eyes nervously dart up, the noise has died, and there's the after echo of the dull slap of wood against skin. Katsuki is dipping the ladle back into the pot and stirring without looking, and one of the soldiers— the one Katsuki calls 'Sparky'— is pouting and rubbing his wounded hand.

But it seems his punishment wasn't enough to keep him quiet because, as soon as Katsuki's shoulders have dropped, Sparky is leaning practically across his lap to speak to Izuku face to face.

"It's so weird seeing your face up close. I thought for sure you were a ghost."

Izuku feels his neck go tense, like someone had shoved a metal pole down his spine during a lightning storm. He shakes his head hurriedly, lifting a sleeve to hide himself from view just as Katsuki explodes.

There's a brief tousle that Izuku misses as he uses his free hand to search his pockets for his veil, a scarf, anything— and produces his obi. He hurries to wrap it around the lower half of his face, but it feels so hot to the touch that he feels woozy.

It's almost humiliating every time he messes up and has to reveal his mouth again before he ties it correctly. He knows they're all looking, especially when the thick scars on his jaw begin to sheen with sweat.

When Izuku finally covers himself, Katsuki has just finished smacking the other across the head with one last sharp bark, "Bed now."

Izuku jumps up.

"Not you," Katsuki grunts, hand shooting up to grip tight onto Izuku's sleeve. "Food's almost ready. Don't let this Sparky asshole run you off 'cause he's an idiot."

"I didn't mean it like that!" The other whines, rubbing the back of his head. "I swear."

Katsuki lifts his ladle like a hammer again, but has to instead use it to continue stirring the pot before it boils over.

And as soon as Katsuki's hands are busy, Sparky turns to Izuku. "Really. It's just my first time seeing you so close. It's weird— ah—" He backtracks when Katsuki's nostrils flare angrily in his direction. "It's nice seeing that you're more than a… a, um—"

"Let's leave them be, Kaminari."

Two hands tug Kaminari from Izuku's personal space, and when Izuku glances up it's to a kind smile full of sharp teeth. Izuku recognizes him only because he's often seen with Katsuki whenever he glanced out the windows of the temple and happened to see them training. Kirishima, he thinks.

Katsuki pours Izuku a bowl of stew, before layering it on a thick wooden plate that already has a leg of still-warm pork. Izuku had opted to let the soldiers devour the meatier aspects of the meal earlier that evening, but that doesn't mean his mouth doesn't salivate when he spots it.

The plate is set onto his lap, and the seam from it officially makes the obi overbearing around his head. It was already starting to slip off, meant for a waist rather than an objectively small skull in comparison.

Izuku only hesitates for a moment, before he carefully lifts the edge closest to his mouth and brings a piece of meat bare-fingered up to his lips. He pauses to blow on it, so that he doesn't burn his tongue, but he can't resist for long.

Soon, the spices are bursting across his tongue and his eyes are rolling back from the pleasure of the flavor hitting him all at once. The most flavorful meal he'd had was the very last night he'd spent at the temple before this trip, and most of those dishes had been ceremonial. Pretty, but too rich to be enjoyed to the fullest.

This… The last time Izuku remembers a meal as delicious and hearty as this is when his mother had snuck to meet him at the back of the temple and sat with him for just ten minutes so that he could eat a home-cooked meal.

He's so drawn by his after-dinner meal that he doesn't notice when Katsuki stands to kick the other two guards back towards their side of camp. He only realizes it's just the two of them left when Katsuki passes a bowl of warm rice in front of his vision.

"C'mon. You look ridiculous."

Izuku swallows his mouthful of pork, almost pulling his head into his obi like a frightened turtle. Katsuki bends down and grabs Izuku's hand, his touch warmed by the campfire.

"I'll stay with you until you're done," Katsuki grants. "Just come back to your tent with me."

"Okay, Kacchan."

Izuku has to balance the plate against his belly as he stands so that all the hard work doesn't go to waste, and it warms up his belly both inside and out. The entire time, Katsuki lets him use his hand. Even when he's pulled himself to a stand, Katsuki doesn't let go. Instead, he uses that touch to lead him back to the middle of the clearing.

He ushers Izuku inside first and, as soon as he's crossed the threshold, tugs at the back of Izuku's obi. It falls in a thick ribbon at his feet, and Izuku hurriedly sets his meal on the bedroll before he crawls over to pick it up and dust it off.

Katsuki already has it in his hands when Izuku turns to retrieve it.

"Don't let those fucks get to you. They don't know shit about what they're talking about."

The crass language makes Izuku smile in spite of himself. Somehow, it's those words that comfort him more than what Katsuki actually says.

"It's alright. I shouldn't have gone without my veil. I'm sure it's shocking for most of them."

Katsuki clicks his tongue in rebuttal.

Izuku slowly settles on his bedroll again, lifting his plate to let it warm his thighs again. Beneath him he's laid out his haori, spread out across the bedroll as a second blanket. The other layers of his outfit are neatly folded after being aired out for a few hours, so that they'll be just as ornate by the time they reach their destination. Still, he doesn't feel as shy now that it's only him and Katsuki.

He pats the other half of his bed, gesturing for Katsuki to join him.

Katsuki hesitates. The obi hangs loosely from his grasp, so long that even with his height it nearly brushes the cold, grassy ground.

"Join me?" Izuku asks, hopefully. "I can share, if you like."

"No," Katsuki declines immediately. "Eat up as much as you want, nerd. It's all for you."

Finally, Katsuki steps forward to join him. As he does, he carefully folds the obi. Each motion is purposeful, as if there's a ceremony in it. Izuku, truthfully, is a bit touched that Katsuki decides to treat it as something special instead of as the piece of cloth that it is.

Once he reaches Izuku's bedding, he leans over to lay it across Izuku's pillow. Izuku just so happens to be between him and his goal.

Izuku leans back with a gasp as soon as he feels the influx of Katsuki's heat, so much hotter than that of his meal. Because he'd been sitting much more relaxed than he had at the fire, Izuku's legs splay out between them. He brushes against the tops of Katsuki's thighs with a startled hand, eyes darting to the subtle shift of muscles beneath Katsuki's neck, shoulders, arms, chest.

When Katsuki sits up straight again, Izuku shoves another bit of food in his mouth so that he can blame the color on his cheeks on the heat of the spices.

"Kacchan's so unfair."

"Hah?"

Izuku gives him an overexaggerated pout, at which Katsuki turns his nose up. When Izuku sticks his tongue out at him, though, Katsuki reaches for him and proceeds to tangle his fingers in Izuku's hair.

It's a playful gesture, similar to how Katsuki always treated him when they were younger. It immediately makes Izuku dissolve into a fit of laughter, struggling not to spill his hot food all over them both. "Kacchan!"

They wrestle for a moment. Izuku isn't sure he's seen Katsuki grin this wide since the day he told him he was a tribute for the gods.

It's that sobering thought that has him conceding, allowing Katsuki to claim victory in the form of pinning Izuku's hands down flat.

"I win, as always." Katsuki smirks at him, lips parting just a bit. It shows off the glint of his teeth as the tent billows with an influx of a breeze, outlining him in moonlight.

"You win," Izuku says softly. Fondly, even. He can't help the shy way his lips turn up in response to Katsuki's victory. It was always so awe-inspiring to see Katsuki like that, even if the only thing he won was a friendly wrestling match between childhood friends.

Izuku's heart soars when Katsuki doesn't immediately let him go. Thumbs pass across the veins in his wrist, feeling how the tendons go tight when Izuku reflexively balls his hands into fists. It's now that Izuku notices their positions: Katsuki straddling his legs, Izuku half compressed by the weight of him.

"Relax," Katsuki murmurs. His touch trails lower, until he's rubbing his palms across Izuku's forearms. "You cold?"

"Mm-mm," Izuku denies. "Um… just hungry?"

"Hm."

Katsuki backs off, careful in the way he sits Izuku up. He cups his hand across Izuku's back to lift him, seemingly unaware of when that just makes their gazes level. They're so close that Izuku can see the individual, blond hairs of his eyelashes.

He wants to kiss him.

The plate is luckily unscathed when Katsuki pulls it from between their bodies. The rice had been smushed a bit, but is still yummy when Izuku takes a bite.

"Kacchan?"

"What, Deku?"

Izuku hesitates for half a beat. Then, "I have something important I need to ask you to do for me."

Katsuki lifts a curious brow, but has to wait for Izuku to continue once he takes another hurried bite of his food. Still, Izuku doesn't let himself delay for too long— Katsuki only has so much patience after all.

Izuku nervously swallows a mouthful of stew before he turns to face Katsuki fully, to give him his full attention.

"I want you to be the one to do the ceremony, Kacchan."

It isn't often that Izuku has seen Katsuki surprised, especially not by anything Izuku has done. Even after this long, they know each other best in this world.

Still, the way Katsuki's eyes widen as the meaning of the request hits him… that he wants Katsuki to be the one to drive the knife into Izuku's chest… it makes Izuku ache from his heart down to his very soul.

"I know it— I…" Izuku stumbles over himself in his hurry to explain. "If it's you, then… Then everything will go right. I know it will."

"No."

"Kacchan—"

"No."

Izuku turns his head away, just for a moment to hurriedly blink away the tears that spring up in them at the total denial. It's a terrible request, but he doesn't want a stranger to be the one to do it. And he can't do it himself, not with the way he'll be strapped to the stone slab and offered up.

And selfishly, he doesn't want it to be anyone else at all. He wants the last thing he sees to be Katsuki.

They sit in a tense silence, though the undercurrent of it is punctuated by the quiet sniffles that Izuku tries to hold in between bites of his meal. Ever the crybaby even now. The tears start to dry on his chin, the salt itching at his skin, but it's when he reaches up to hurriedly rub the streaks away that Katsuki finally responds with a heavy sigh.

When Izuku turns to him, Katsuki has a hand over the back of his neck, as if the stress of it caused him to ache deep in his spine. His shoulders have turned in towards himself, but he glances up when Izuku turns to him again.

"You've thought about this for a while, haven't you?"

"Yes," Izuku whispers. "Ever since I was younger."

"And you're thinking of asking now? When you're already heading up to… to—"

"Yes."

Katsuki sighs again. He hasn't exploded yet, and Izuku attributes that to the measured way he inhales and exhales. Izuku turns away again, like a coward.

Because Izuku now knows that his answer is yes.

The silence builds between them like a wall, and Izuku hugs his knees to himself if only as a mode of self-comfort. It doesn't feel as nice as Katsuki's weight atop him had felt before. Still, he doesn't allow himself the luxury of looking at Katsuki just yet. He's lucky that Katsuki hasn't left just yet.

Outside of the tent, the noise of the soldiers bustles down to just the noise of bodies rustling in their bedrolls. Most, if not all of them, are asleep except for the night watch.

Izuku lets one of his hands drop to the grass just beside his bed, catching a few of the cold blades between his fingers. They feel sharp due to the temperature, but they give to the weight of his palm when he passes it flat across the earth.

Beside him, Katsuki has finally gathered all his thoughts.

The look on his face is resolute, coming to a conclusion that Izuku isn't privy to. When he turns his whole body to fully face Izuku, Izuku glances down to the ground between them instead. He isn't sure if he should grovel or not, isn't sure if he should feel more ashamed or grateful in the moment.

Katsuki, though, grants him mercy. When he reaches forward, it's to gently curve a piece of hair behind Izuku's ear. His face is gentle when Izuku glances at him.

"You're tired, aren't you?"

Izuku nods. His head feels a bit heavy now that his belly is full again. Surely it's after midnight, which means they'll be traveling once more in a few more hours. Though it's a long distance to the mountain, the days will surely blend into one another until they finally reach the peak.

Until Izuku finally has to say goodbye. He hopes Katsuki will be able to forgive him, one day.

"Well, c'mon then."

Katsuki smooths the bedroll out as he stands, hovering over Izuku's slumping body. Izuku's eyelids feel so heavy that he can't stop his eyes from drifting shut. Still, he's acutely aware of Katsuki's body as he ushers him beneath the sheets and carefully moves the obi to act as a comforting weight against his waist, as if to replace the plate.

The rush of fear, anxiety, heartache is soon replaced by comfort as Katsuki tucks him in. It leaves him feeling hollowed out inside, down to his very marrow.

Katsuki mumbles something too low for Izuku's slowly darkening brain to comprehend, but Izuku breathes a soft noise in response, in the bleary hopes that Katsuki will stay longer, will forgive him for asking him to do something so terrible, if he just keeps himself awake.

There's a huff of breath, an amused sigh.

Then, there's that warm hand against his skin again. It cups across his forehead, before loosely carding through the hair that acts as Izuku's bangs. Despite the heat of it, Izuku's body shivers at the unexpected contact.

With how comfortable he is all of a sudden, he feels drunk. As if he can feel the way the entire world spins in a lazy circle. One of his hands slips out from where Katsuki has just begun tucking him in, and clings to the skin of Katsuki's wrist.

"Please stay," he mumbles, though he isn't sure if it's entirely intelligible. All he knows is that the touch pauses, a thumb softly grazing between his eyebrows.

There's a beat of silence. Izuku floats in it.

Then, there's the shift of a body sliding beside him.

If Katsuki's hand had been warm, then his body is sweltering. How he's retaining so much heat while in the throes of winter, Izuku isn't sure. Still, it catapults his psyche towards a sound sleep before he entirely registers Katsuki's soft, humming voice. All of it combines into a comfort that Izuku hadn't been allowed thus far into his life, not in a long long time.

Under Katsuki's watchful, gentle guard, Izuku sleeps. Soundly, safely, loved.

---

The days pass with little consequence. Yet, every night, Katsuki sneaks into Izuku's tent and stays with him until he sleeps, the same as he did on that very first night.

Somehow it escalates to Katsuki slipping beneath the haori with him, though he insists on keeping one layer of bedding between them. Wouldn't be proper to sweat all over such fine sheets, after all.

But that doesn't mean that neither of them can't feel the way their bodies move together while they rest. Every touch feels as if Izuku is asking forgiveness, of which he doesn't need. Katsuki doesn't know how to say so out loud.

More often than not, Izuku's fingers find purchase against Katsuki's chest. They gently brush across the skin there, until Katsuki shifts and brings an arm to rest across Izuku's waist. It subsequently means their bodies roll closer together, the bumps and curves of them naturally fitting together in a way that they try to pretend isn't perfect.

On the third night, Katsuki tries to pretend he's asleep when Izuku finally closes what miniscule distance is left between them. Tries to pretend that Izuku can't hear the way his heart throbs in his chest at the proximity, as if his blood isn't singing inside of his veins when he feels the squish of Izuku's lips against the bare skin there.

Yet, despite the pretending, Katsuki never pulls away. Never lets himself roll in a more comfortable position even when his arm starts to tingle and grow numb with the weight of Izuku slumbering atop it. He can't bring himself to, no matter the discomfort.

Katsuki never wants to let him go again.

---

"Kacchan?"

Katsuki's fingers stop where they were tracing gentle circles across Izuku's bare stomach. He's unwrapped like a gift, his many many layers forming a nest beneath the both of them. It's too dark for either of them to see each other's faces, but Katsuki leans in close anyway.

"What, Deku?"

"I'm really happy you're here with me."

Katsuki breathes in slow and deep, almost the beginnings of a sigh. Instead, he lets his head fall into the space against Izuku's sternum.

He can hear the way Izuku hesitates, how his voice catches in his chest a bit before he continues, "I know I asked a lot of you with… with this. And I'm sorry. But you're the person I trust most to do it right. I…"

"I'm happy I'm with you too," Katsuki interrupts, softly. "But you need rest. I'll wake you up in the morning."

Katsuki twists them so that Izuku is atop him instead, listening to how his heart beats for him now. He catches his arm around Izuku's back to keep him close, and doesn't even pretend that the way his lips brush across Izuku's forehead isn't a kiss.

Izuku smiles against Katsuki's skin, cuddling closer.

"Okay, Kacchan."

---

The days pass quickly. Too quickly.

---

Snow dances around them. Despite their late start, they had gotten to the mountain a few days later than planned: seven days after they began instead of five.

They'd lost a horse or two from a harrowing pitfall of soft snow that hadn't settled completely in a chasm. No soldiers had been seriously injured, but they'd lost provisions. It had left them shaky, but they had a duty to not turn back until their job was complete.

Izuku had grown quieter as soon as they crossed from solid ground to icy slopes, as if he was reserving his strength for the end. That was about a day ago. The most he spoke was when they were alone, and he was gathered in Katsuki's arms.

Now, he is sitting atop Katsuki's horse and looking at the final path that will lead them to the sacrificial temple garden. It'll surely be covered in snow, but they're lucky that it had no roof. Meant no animals would have adopted it as their home in the years it's been untouched by human hands.

Katsuki grips the reins in his fist tightly, tearing his eyes away from the snow that begins to cling to the edges of Izuku's veil.

Then, he turns to give the address to his men.

"Set up camp, get warmed up. Stay here until I return."

By his side, his horse stamps impatiently. They've found a rare area where the snow isn't too deep for the animals, but it still goes up to her knees. He gives her a good pat on the shoulder, as if to thank her for sticking it out this long.

The wind picks up as Katsuki leads Izuku down the final stretch of their journey. Izuku's squeezing tightly to the saddle's horn, as if it's the only thing grounding him in the moment. So, Katsuki decides to cut out the useless small talk, and just lets Izuku think.

It takes fifteen minutes for them to make it there, regardless of the weather. They are greeted by weathered stone and mounds of snow, as Katsuki expected. But, above their heads, the canopy of trees parts perfectly for them to see how the sky has darkened with night and left behind a frigid sky. There weren't many clouds despite the snow, as if the gods truly were reaching down to usher Izuku into their waiting palms.

Katsuki drops the reins so that he'll stop tugging on his mare so tightly. Instead, he reaches up to help Izuku down.

He'd fully prepared himself last night, his eyes painted with oil-like makeup that only accents the beautiful green of his eyes. He's wearing the same ornamental robes that he'd left in, but they still look so stunning on him. In any other moment, Katsuki would let himself drink in the sight now that it's just the two of them.

But he has one last job to do.

Katsuki straightens Izuku's veil idly as Izuku himself straightens the satins and silks that he's swathed in.

"Thank you," Izuku whispers. He's shaking, though he's finally appropriately layered for the weather. Katsuki places his palms flat on Izuku's shoulders to steady him.

Before Katsuki can fully comfort him though, Izuku pulls away with a tight-lipped smile.

He lifts the edges of his hakama so that he can step through the snow, nearly losing balance once or twice until he finally finds purchase at the slab in the center of it all. It's been years, but Katsuki can just imagine the remnants of blood that Izuku is swimming in. How much pain and hope he's resting himself above as he lifts his legs so that his entire body rests in the memories of the other sacrifices.

From beneath his sleeves, he produces the ceremonial knife. The blade itself is plain, but the pommel had been decorated by hand in the same manner that Izuku's clothes had been. Each one is meant as a gift; the knife, the clothes, Izuku himself.

Katsuki lets him get settled before he, too, steps forward. He follows the path that Izuku had made, stepping in the footholds that are already beginning to freeze over. His horse obediently stays behind, sheltered from the snowfall by the evergreen tree he'd left her beneath.

Katsuki finds himself standing over Izuku as he situates himself, careful in the way he arranges each piece of his outfit. Surely the methods had been beaten into him from the moment he'd been chosen as the sacrifice. Beneath his breath, he's mumbling soft nonsense to himself. Katsuki has never seen his eyes so crazed, with how close Izuku is coming to his death now.

Finally, Izuku lays flat across the cold stone, shivering so badly that Katsuki has to hold the knife for him lest he drop it prematurely. Izuku shoots him a grateful, nigh manic look.

It's now that Izuku speaks to him.

"Thank you, Kacchan. For coming all this way for me— for making that promise."

Izuku hesitates for a moment. Then, he reaches up and lets his cold hands circle Katsuki's jaw with the gentlest touch. As if, even in the position they're in, he's scared of hurting Katsuki with just the tips of his fingers.

"I'm so blessed to have known you," he murmurs.

With his eyes shut, Izuku doesn't see the way Katsuki squares himself resolutely and lets his cape come to circle them both, to share some of his warmth with Izuku's freezing body.

He does notice when Katsuki takes half a step back, pulling from his touch. He makes a wounded noise, of which he cuts off with a shaky nod.

Katsuki is proud of him for being so brave. Still…

"I'm going with you."

Izuku, confused, fumbles when the knife doesn't immediately plunge into him as expected. If anything, it just brushes across him like a painter's brush across as canvas. Katsuki is careful with the way he angles it, until Izuku's grip slackens.

"What?"

Finally, it clicks in Izuku's brain.

The way Katsuki points the knife to himself, the fact that Katsuki has yet to strap him down as he was meant to. Katsuki had accepted Izuku's request to kill him so easily, in his moment of relief he'd surely forgotten how stubborn Katsuki could be.

Katsuki allows himself half a beat of looking into Izuku's eyes, his rigid stance softening at the fright he sees there. Self-sacrificing dummy is more scared that Katsuki has threatened his own life rather than Izuku's own.

"Kacchan—"

With a sudden resolve, Izuku tries to yank the knife back.

They wrestle for it. With a frantic movement, Izuku is able to jerk his upper body up and allow the knife to make contact. It makes the fewest inches of leeway through his thick clothes, but it's enough to make him bleed.

He gasps in pain as the shock of the cold blade severing his veins registers, but they both know that's enough to give Katsuki the upper hand.

"Kacchan, no—"

Izuku gasps as the blade is wrenched from his hold, though drops of his blood are already soaking into the thin fibers that make his kimono. Right above the heart, a steady, red circle is just beginning to spill its way outwards.

"If you die, I die too."

It's then that Izuku seems to realize what Katsuki truly means. What he means to Katsuki.

He seems stricken with his influx of understanding, reaching upwards one more time to try to snatch the weapon back with a pleading sound. He misses, as Katsuki takes a measured step away from him.

Katsuki holds the knife to his cheek, pressing tight enough that the sharp edge easily splits the first layer of his skin. Warm blood spills out across it and leaves streaks of red across his cold face.

"No— Kacchan," Izuku weeps, screams in fear. The tears rush from him quicker than the blood had. "Please— you promised!"

"I promised I would bring you here. Nothing more."

Izuku slips from the stone, falling to his knees as he tries to take back that space Katsuki has put between them.

As he scrambles up, he looks so frightened. His body collides noisily with Katsuki, with enough force that he stumbles back a few steps. It makes the knife cut into him more, but he's more focused on the choked wail that Izuku produces.

"Don't, Kacchan— p-please! You promised, you did!"

Izuku shakes him, as if he can force him to choose the path that'll mean Izuku's soul leaves this world. As if Katsuki would, in any universe.

Slowly, Katsuki lowers the knife. Izuku's fingers go slack around his wrist, and Katsuki lets it clatter messily between them, mixed with their blood at the very tip.

He doesn't mean to smear blood across Izuku's neck as he gathers his face in either of his palms and pulls him up higher, making him look him in the eye. "I would never make a promise to kill you. Never."

Even when he's dolorous and frightened, Katsuki has never seen anyone more beautiful. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut, until the tears that drip off his lashes are small like drizzling raindrops instead of overwhelming like the swell of a thunderstorm.

When he opens his eyes again, red-rimmed and beginning to swell, his green eyes wobble as he looks back and forth between either of Katsuki's.

"But…"

The hand around his wrist tightens, and Izuku tilts his chin down, just a bit.

"But what if you don't know me anymore— like you used to? I'm not worth it— I'm different now, Kacchan. After everything. I was… I am ready to die here."

"And so am I. Where you go, I'll follow."

"Kacchan…" Izuku exhales his name shakily, as if the concept of it is heavier than anything he's thought of before. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want… to go, either. But you can't."

Izuku closes his eyes again, nearly losing his balance until he tips forward to let his head rest against the curve of Katsuki's shoulder.

His fingers slip from Katsuki's wrist, only to curve around his waist on either side and pull him in, until they're as close as they can get. Izuku is colder than Katsuki is and, as such, he steals warmth from Katsuki's very core. When Katsuki wraps his arms around him, crossing at the small of his back to keep him there, Izuku sniffles wetly.

"You can't…" He repeats, quieter. "I want to stay alive with… with you. I don't want to die here. But, the village… our parents… what if the only reason I was born was to do this? I don't know who I am if I don't do this— ever since I was younger my meaning was to be a sacrifice. P-please, Kacchan. It's what I'm meant to do."

"You're meant to be happy, Izuku."

Katsuki wants to kiss him so badly. So so badly, he just wants to tilt down and let his lips pass across Izuku's, chapped as they are from the winter cold. To tell him every hidden thing in his heart— the heart that belonged to Izuku ever since he promised to use his life to protect Izuku's.

Instead, he lets his thumb pass across the tender skin of his mouth, his touch light and careful.

"Marry me."

Izuku's gasp of surprise seems to catch in his throat. He shakes his head minutely, disbelieving, but Katsuki smiles at him. He lets their foreheads come to rest against one another, so close that he can feel the way Izuku's eyelashes flutter across his skin.

"I want to make you happy," he admits.

"You do make me happy," Izuku says helplessly.

"And," Katsuki interrupts, letting his thumbs drag across the wet lines of tears that Izuku cries. "I want to join my life with yours however I can. Whether you die here today, or die another day fifty years from now… I want to be with you until those final moments. I want to be yours, same as I want you to be mine."

Katsuki gathers one of Izuku's hands and wraps his own around it, palm to the back of Izuku's. He squeezes, and Izuku squeezes back almost reflexively.

"Marry me."

With one last resolute motion, he kisses the curve of Izuku's knuckle. Then, he's pulling away with two slow, measured steps. Katsuki bends to pick up the knife, and Izuku's hands tremble when he slips it into his hands again.

"Just know that whatever you choose, I will be with you."

---

Night falls.

---

It takes an hour for the rest of the troop to go looking for Izuku and Katsuki. Another five minutes for the rest of them to be on alert when there's not a dead body on the stone, only Izuku's bloody haori. The sleeves lazily billow in the wind, but the knife atop it is heavy enough that it doesn't flee from its final resting place. It has been embedded in the stone, just the very tip, leaving a permanent etch in the sacrificial site.

The snow has picked up between that hour of silence enough that there are no footprints to be followed.

Just rows and rows of trees in all cardinal directions, each of them leading to different paths down the mountain that would be foolish to follow, even if they had a horse. The trek up had been dangerous enough, and that path had been well worn over the last few centuries.

The guard waits a few more hours. Just in case.

It matters little.

When the guard returns to the village, days later, they keep the details to themselves. The captain's disappearance is a mystery, but the sacrifice's disappearance can still be considered a blessing. There were matching blood trails at the sacred sight, after all. Injured in a near-blizzard on a dangerous mountaintop? It'd take a beast to survive.

And so, the village rejoices. It's with high hopes that they'll soon be blessed, and not have another starving spring. Two households merge into one, the Midoriyas and Bakugous, and Inko gives an even split of her subsidies to her old friends. They'd both lost plenty from the journey, after all.

All they can do is hope that, somewhere up above under the gods' blessings, their sons have found everlasting joy.

---

Spring buds bloom into vibrant flowers.

---

Laughter cuts across the distant sound of ocean waves crashing together. Izuku shrieks as Katsuki lifts him and twirls him around, before the weight of them both leaves them sprawled out across the soft, sandy ground.

Katsuki laughs as the cloud of sand dusts up around them, and reaches over to pinch Izuku's cheeks. "Dummy. That's what you get for running."

"Maybe I wanted you to catch me," Izuku teases back. His smile is bright and free as he rolls onto his stomach so that he can drag himself atop Katsuki. His hands slide across the raised scar on Katsuki's face, tracing the jagged, serrated line. He places a kiss atop it.

Katsuki plants his hands flat on Izuku's hips as Izuku sits up again, raising an eyebrow when Izuku wriggles his fingers threateningly, as if he's going to tickle him.

"You better not— oi!"

Katsuki yelps as Izuku's cold fingers brush across his neck, and then attack his underarm when he isn't expecting it. Before he can swipe back in retaliation, Izuku hops up and skitters away with another laugh.

It's the most free he's been since they were children, and Katsuki stops for a moment just to watch him toss his head back and laugh up at the sky. Sun rays trace the contours of his body, easily visible through his thin, comfortable clothes. His hair has grown a bit longer, just an inch, and Katsuki looks forward to the mornings when he's able to run his fingers through the locks and just feel Izuku beside him.

Katsuki catches him before he gets far enough away and squeezes him tight to prevent a second escape. His hands pass across Izuku's bare skin, catching at the belt of his pants before Katsuki uses the hem to tug him even closer. Izuku stumbles forward into his chest, laughing so hard that the red on his cheeks nearly overshadows the pretty brown of his freckles.

When Katsuki dips down to leave a kiss on both sides of his face, Izuku's giggling slowly peters off into something soft and enamored.

"You caught me again."

"Damn right I did." Katsuki drops his touch to Izuku's shoulders, fixing the thin cape he wears. It flows like silk, billowing around him like a shimmer of magic. Katsuki clasps it so that it's equal on both sides of his wingspan, and then lets his fingers tangle with Izuku's so that he can bring their combined hands up to his mouth.

"Mm. I think that means you have to kiss me. Like in the fairytales."

"You're such a damn nerd," Katsuki snorts. Still, he cups his hand against Izuku's cheek and tilts his face up. In anticipation, Izuku's eyes have gone half lidded, gaze trained on Katsuki's lips while his own part.

When they kiss, it's a simple, gentle brush of lip across lip. Izuku's are soft and smooth, and part again for another, another, another until he's gone breathless. Katsuki slowly traces the outlines of Izuku's body with his palms, until Izuku lets out a blissful sigh and pulls away to look him in the eyes again.

"Marry me," he whispers.

"Dummy. I asked you first."

Izuku laughs again, and the sound is something that Katsuki wants to live in forever.

After a brief moment of basking in each other's presence, the two of them gather themselves; one picking up the other before they begin a slow trek to the small altar set up on the furthest edge of the beach, where forest meets sand. It has been set up nicely for them, and Katsuki had already paid off the officiant. They are already legally bound to one another, never to be parted. All that's left is the ceremony.

Katsuki uses his cape, which is hooked on one shoulder, to circle it across Izuku's back as he leads him up the two modest, wooden steps towards the altar. A goblet is already waiting for them there, and as soon as Izuku spots it his eyes begin to sparkle.

Their exchanged vows are quiet, soft; a private moment for the both of them. Katsuki leans to whisper his in Izuku's ear, loving in the way he tucks locks of hair behind it before he whispers sweet promises to him. Izuku, when it's his turn, has to stand on his toes to do the same. He laughs when he falls back on his heel, Katsuki grasping on his palm to keep him steady.

And, once they're ready, they both grab the goblet at the same time. From one cup they'll drink, to form their union.

Firelit posts on either side add a faint crackle to the ambience around them. In the distance, Katsuki can hear the birds crooning one last time before they start to retire for the night as the sun leaves them.

Katsuki takes the first sip, aided by Izuku tipping his head back. Then Izuku does the same, Katsuki's fingers toying with the fine hair at the nape of Izuku's neck. And, once the rich liquid has flowed down their throats, they repeat the action until the drink is fully gone.

With his lips still wet from it, Katsuki kisses Izuku again. He swallows down the startled noise Izuku makes, along with the taste of the enamored laugh that spills from him after. Their hands are still joined, and Katsuki squeezes tighter as he deepens the kiss.

It feels as though he'll never have enough of Izuku. Kissing him, drinking from the same cup, feeling his warmth pressed against him… there won't be enough time in the universe until he's satisfied.

But now he has the chance to. He lets his forehead drop against Izuku's, and smiles.

"I love you," Katsuki says.

Izuku squeezes his hand back. "I love you, too."

The sun soon sets as they take a long moment to look in one another's eyes. Once it begins to get cold, and the chill nips at their skin to shoo them back into the little cottage that they now call home, Katsuki holds Izuku closer. Just to share the warmth of his heart with the man who it now beats for.

Then, together, they head towards their future.