Chapter Text
“Eyes are the windows of the soul,” Katsuki reads from that beat up book he used to love so much almost 300 years ago, the same one his goddess had gifted him the day he became the head-priest of her Temple.
He feels his heart squeeze inside his chest. It’s been a long time since he last set his eyes on its cover; a book woven with goddess power, shining gold details in the form of embedded vines. It is a beautiful book, even as beat up as it is. But it brings very painful memories.
Katsuki sits passively in front of the tall fountain he had constructed himself, the book resting on his thighs as he reads quietly.
That sentence has always stuck with him. Haunted him, really.
It is something he heard often, everyone said so. His mother, especially, liked the saying. Whenever the topic of love came to conversation, she would throw the saying to the air for the winds to carry into Katsuki’s heart. And he believed it. His goddess believed it too.
All of them said eyes could tell the truths of the soul, show you how pure someone’s heart is, but it seems like it never worked with him. It didn’t matter how many tears gathered and fell from his eyes back then when he looked up at his goddess, his robes turn to pisses and still clinging loosely to his body; it didn’t matter how hard he tried to show her his soul through his eyes, she looked at him in disgust.
“Don’t ever dare to show your eyes to me again.” She had hissed at him with so much hate (her love for him completely erased from her eyes), ripping her dress from his pleading hands as he cried for her forgiveness. Though he had absolutely no fault as to what had happened to him.
He had babbled then, taking his eyes away from her, following her demand. He begged for her to not throw him away. He was her loyal servant after all, he had dedicated his life to serving her deed.
She did not care for him. Not anymore.
“I curse you, Bakugou Katsuki. You will become a monster of lively hair and fearsome eyes. Anybody who ever looks at your eyes will turn to stone and you’ll be miserable. Until the day of your death and beyond, people will know of your transgression against me.” There was so much anger and hatred in her voice, it pierced clean through Katsuki’s heart.
His goddess was taking away her blessing, cursing him even. Everything hurt then, as if his soul was being ripped out of his body. She was no longer a part of him. She was leaving him alone.
Katsuki sobbed in agony, his screams of pain echoing, bouncing off against the walls of her Temple. His fellow priestesses looked away, unable to do anything to stop his pain or their goddess’ anger. They were powerless, just as him.
He felt how his hair came to something akin to alive and his eyes burned as if being branded with boiling iron.
It hurt so much. So much that he passed out.
When he woke up, his eyes were hidden behind a thick cloth and there was no more pain. There were new robes folded around him. Though, they were clearly made of poor quality fabric, contrary to the smooth silky robes he once dressed in. The same type of fabric they used to dust around her altar.
It was a clear indicative: ‘You don’t belong here anymore.’
“You’re awake.”
Katsuki startled towards the sound of her voice, only seeing darkness. The Great Athena. He couldn’t see her, but he could have recognized the thrum of her power anywhere. He had been part of that power once. Now that it was not there in him anymore, he felt empty.
“Get out of my Temple and don’t ever come back.”
Her voice sent chills down his body, freezing him in place until warm hands took a hold of his arms.
With sorrow, he let his fellow servants guide him to what he assumed was the back door of the Temple, the door facing the vast forest that no one ever dared enter. Once alone, he took away the blindfold and ran. He ran through the darkness, past trees, among branches and leaves. He stumbled and fell and scraped his arms and legs, gashed his face somewhere along the way. And he cried until he couldn’t anymore, until the nymphs took pity on him and helped him get a new place to live; somewhere far away from gods and people. A place controlled by them, somewhere he would be safe from those who hurt him.
It was not fair. He had done nothing but exist and still, he had somehow disgraced his goddess' name. It wasn't his fault. He never called for the attention of that disgusting Poseidon. It wasn't something Katsuki had desired.
Athena had cursed his eyes, made sure he couldn’t show his soul to anybody else. She made sure that if he showed his eyes to anyone, they would cease to exist.
She had cursed him to an existence in solitude. Away from those who shared his blood and his flesh. From Humans.
He was alone.
A twig snapping behind him brings him back to the present and, through the reflection of the falling water in his fountain, he sees the silhouette of a boy.
Katsuki puts his book down and frowns, making sure to mark the page before closing it. He waits for a few seconds, sitting straighter in his seat, but nothing happens.
The boy keeps behind him, sword tightly held in front of him. He looks frozen.
He stands from his chair and turns towards the boy, keeping his eyes forward and over the boy. If he meets the boy’s eyes for even a second, he’ll end up like all the others.
The dumb boy looks him in the face, his mouth hanging wide open.
“Don’t look me in the face, idiot,” Katsuki hisses, giving the stupid boy time to frantically lower his eyes to his feet, his sword shaking tenfold at being adressed directly. He sighs, shaking his head in exasperation.
This is just a kid, maybe ten years old at most.
He turns around, looking at the top of his head, where a stupid red hat rests above black locks of hair. The power that emanates from him is ancient, very familiar to Katsuki.
A sneer forms on his lips, his skin prickling with disgust.
A son of Poseidon.
Rage fills him and his hands shake. He still follows him, even now after so many years. Katsuki feels weak all over again, vulnerable in front of a ten year old that can barely hold his sword. All because he is the spitting image of the one who he hates most in this cursed, backwards world.
“What are you doing here, son of Poseidon?”
The kid trembles, his small hands gripping the hilt of his sword harder and Katsuki sees from up top how his eyes widden in obvious surprise. He doesn’t state his purpose, but Katsuki knows. No one has ever come to simply commute with him, the multitude of statues proves his point.
“You’ve come to take my head? Like the so many others in this garden?” The hiss that comes from his mouth is hateful, resentful and hurt. His eyes rake around him, pointedly looking at the mossy statues.
He has never maliciously harmed anyone. Not before and not even after being cursed. Every single one of the statues scattered around his garden are people who have come to his home with the intention of taking his life. Most of them dumb, young demigods in search of grandiosity for being the ones to behead the Medusa. He had never done anything worthy of the atrocious stories that carried the dumb children to his garden. But yet, somehow, the reputation of being a horrible monster follows steadily behind him. Not even him secluding himself in his garden was enough to keep them away.
Ironic, really. He is the one wronged in this whole ordeal.
The kid looks around and suddenly drops his sword, but doesn’t move from his spot. So, Katsuki moves to his work table and grabs the cloth he uses to dry his hands. With fast hands, he ties it around the dumb kid’s head securely, making sure he wouldn’t be able to see through it.
There’s an audible gasp that traps in the middle of the child’s throat and he stiffens, but lets Katsuki do as he pleases.
When he is done, Katsuki steps away, letting the boy inspect the cloth carefully with his hands, probably confused. He does lift his head, though.
“What’s your name, brat?”
“I- My name’s Kouta…” He whispers, his voice slightly high pitched and innocent. The voice of a kid after all.
He feels how his anger melts away. This kid has no fault for being the son of a terrible god. He shouldn’t resent him for not having a say in who his father would be.
“Kouta, huh?” Katsuki sighs, grabbing a chair from his work station and placing it loudly behind Kouta, causing the boy to jump startled. “Sit.” He instructs and Kota immediately follows his command.
“Who sent you here? How did you even find me?” For Katsuki, it’s an important question. This is the first kid that has survived an encounter with him, so he never really had the opportunity to ask how they even managed to get to him in the first place.
“The- The oracle said we would meet; talked about following the trail of blooming roses that guides towards your garden during the full moon.” The kid talks, a bit more securely than before. His hands reveal his nervousness; rubbing against each other in an obvious attempt at soothing himself.
Katsuki hums and wonders if there really is a trail of flowers leading to his garden. He has never seen it himself, for he never wanders far from his garden. He moved to the middle of the darkest and most dangerous forest known to mankind with the permission of the forest nymphs for a reason. The forest of the lost souls, people call it, but the nymphs made his space bright and fruitful.
They had pitied him, he knew it and he hated it. But at the time, their pity seemed better than staying around the humans and the gods that cursed him. Anything would be better than staying around all of them, vulnerable at all times.
He makes a mental note to ask the nymphs about it. They are the owners of the forest after all, they know everything there is to know about it. Ochako will surely bring him up to date.
Huh. This kid is fairly brave, then. He didn’t only make his way through the forest alone, but he also managed to bypass the nymphs in one piece. Maybe if he was a little older, Katsuki would have actually lost his head today.
Well, lucky him, he guesses.
The kid ends up leaving an hour later, properly berated by Katsuki, a warm piece of bread resting inside his stomach and the cloth still tightly wrapped around his eyes. There are two empty tea cups resting on his work bench. And even though Katsuki is relieved to still have his head attached to his body, he feels nostalgic, melancholic.
It's been literal centuries since he last spoke to another human.
Damn. He feels lonely.
When the kid left that day -not even trying to glance backwards- the last thing that crossed through Katsuki’s mind was to see him again, but Katsuki is surprised to meet him once again not even a week later.
Katsuki is grinding away at some dried leaves he harvested earlier that week, humming the old memory of a song low under his breath. It is no longer resembling of its original, Katsuki knows that much, but it’s been so long since he last heard it. It has just escaped him almost completely. But he still enjoys himself, being alone for so long has a way to make you appreciate even the most mundane of tasks, the most mind numbing of jobs. Everything becomes a great distraction and for someone who has no limit to his life, like Katsuki, living in misery is not a pleasing way of spending his time.
So, he sings to his heart's content, watching how the leaves turn into dust under the polished rock when there’s a thud somewhere behind him and an immediate cry of pain.
“Shit-”
It’s obvious, by the way it is shouted in the form of a whisper, that the person tried their best to keep quiet and failed miserably. Already incredibly sloppy work.
Katsuki lets the rock fall from his hand, turning around and assuming a defensive pose. “Who 's there!” He calls into the garden, hearing the immediate ruffle of leaves. “Come the fuck out!” The only thing to defend himself other than his eyes is the small blade he grips between his fingers. He never would have thought he would have to fight for his life twice in a week. This is a new record.
He waits, breath held tight in his chest until he sees a small figure coming out from behind the statue of one of the sons of Zeus -like with many others in his garden, Katsuki has no name which to attach to his face-. He sighs the held breath and glares at Kota, even when he knows the kid cannot see it, for he wears the cloth from last time around his eyes.
“I want you to know I’m glaring angrily at you right now,” hands on his hips.
The little demon has the audacity to giggle behind his hand, but it quickly turns into a sheepish, shy smile when he hears Katsuki click his tongue.
“What are you doing here again? I thought it was clear our last encounter would be exactly that: the last.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he tries to ignore the bubbly feeling of happiness that tickles at the center of his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had wished the boy would come back.
The mere taste of a few minutes of harmless contact with another of his own had been detrimental to his mood. It was like tasting water after weeks of wandering a hot desert, addicting. But he had felt the emotional withdrawal once the kid was gone and suddenly he was back in his teenage years, missing the life he once had.
He feels sad suddenly, his shoulders losing some of their edge.
"I left my sword last time. I'll be in trouble if I don't bring it back." Kota says, adjusting the blindfold once again. He stops, his hands coming together, pressed to his body and Katsuki sees something else coming. "The bread from last time was also really good…"
Katsuki scoffs, “Unbelievable, first you come to kill me and fail and now expect me to feed you, again ?” It’s all talk really, because he’s already grabbing the child’s hand gently and guiding him through the rest of the garden. The squeak of surprise from Kouta is ignored in favor of giving directions to make sure he doesn’t stumble with any roots or pots.
Behind him, the kid seems to have lost all of the fear he had the first time they meet. He chatters animatedly and confidently, as if Katsuki would be able to actually relate to the things he talks about.
His hand opens the door to his tiny house and with delicate fingers he maneuvers Kota in front of him and towards the kitchen. Katsuki sits him at the table and grabs his wrists to guide his hands towards a ceramic plate in front of him.
“Keep your hands on the plate,” He instructs the momentarily blind boy as he turns to look for the fresh loaf of bread. Katsuki slices a few pieces and places them on the plate. “You’re lucky, brat. I just finished baking a new loaf this morning.”
Katsuki watches in amusement as Kota feels around the edges of the plate until his fingers come in contact with the slice of bread. He beams and quickly brings the piece to his lips to munch happily, humming.
“This is the best bread I’ve ever tasted!” The brat says between bites and Katsuki tries his hardest to squash the feeling the praise brings to his heart. It still buzzes inside him.
He grunts noncommittally, pouring already hot water into a pot to make some ginger tea. It is quiet, besides the munching sounds coming from the little demon, so Katsuki concentrates into the slightly bubbling water. When it is done, he starts pouring the tea into two ceramic cups. Of course, that’s when Kota decides to drop a firebomb on him.
“Would you show me how to make it?” It is quiet and rushed, but Katsuki hears it all the same.
The admission shocks him so much he moves too suddenly and ends up spilling hot tea all over his hand. “Fuck!” He shakes it desperately, letting the teapot fall over the counter.
“W-what happened? Are you okay?” Kota stands nervously, but refrains from moving too much, for him being blindfolded would surely be of more harm than help.
Katsuki sticks his hand on the charmed bucket of forever cool water close by, and turns to Kota with a bated breath. “What did you say?”
The kid shifts on his feet, looking much more less confident than a few minutes ago. “Um, are you okay?”
“No, before that.”
Shit, his hand hurts.
“Oh…” The kid visibly deflates, somehow turning tinier in himself. “I asked if you could show me how to make bread like you.”
Katsuki stays quiet, staring at the unknowing boy. The admission in itself is not surprising, what sends a wave of emotion through Katsuki is what it entails.
“You know you can’t learn how to make a bread like mine in just a few hours, right?” He’s careful when he asks. There’s something hidden in the kid’s question, one much more deep and heavy, but Katsuki doesn’t dare let his heart get its hope up.
“Yeah, I know.” The kid is back to facing the ground and clasping his hands together like the first time they met.
“Are you asking me if you could come again?” He feels his hands tremble slightly, a confusing mix of feelings tangling inside his mind, lacing around each other like hungry snakes.
Kota sucks his lower lip into his mouth and bites on it and, as if knowing Katsuki is staring him down, he nods silently.
A breath leaves his lungs, one he didn’t even realize he was holding. He stays silent, his mind flying around.
The kid wants to come back? And learn from him?
Why?
“Why?” It escapes him before he can stop it and it comes out with way too much emotion. He sounds weak and immediately cringes at himself. He can’t really feel the stinging from his burned hand that much anymore.
Kota perks up at this. There is a tiny smile on his lips, “I think you’re really cool.”
Katsuki cannot believe it. He feels like he’s in a dream. There’s no way this kid just barged into his garden, tried to kill him once, convinced him to feed him twice and now thinks he’s cool.
After going so many years without contact with other humans, he’s forgotten how complicated kids usually are. This one is crazy, though.
“And I want more bread,” he offers over the plate in the general direction of Katsuki.
“Ugh, are you serious?”
Kota laughs, already back to his confident kid mannerisms.
Katsuki slices a few more pieces of bread and sits him back at the table. This time, he sits with him, the two forgotten tea cups now filled with ginger tea.
It is quiet between them, but not awkwardly so. It is more contemplating than anything. But when they finish eating and there is no more tea to drink, he decides to give his response.
“I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to teaching you.” It is quiet and rather hopeful, because he can no longer deny that the kid’s company sounds ten times better than being alone with just his plants and the occasional visit from Ochako and Mina.
“Really?” Kota sounds way too excited, as if him teaching the brat something would be the best thing in the world.
“Yeah, but you have to be perfect, I don’t accept half-assed shit. Got it?”
The smile the little demon gives him makes his heart flutter and happiness sits at the bottom of his belly. He can't hold back the smile on his lips.
“Sir, yes Sir!” Kota moves too wide and too fast, hitting Katsuki’s burned hand along the way. It starts pounding immediately.
“Ugh, fuck! Kota!”
“I’m sorry! I don’t know where anything is! I can’t see!”
He can’t believe this is really happening. It feels like a dream.
Katsuki is not alone anymore.