Chapter Text
The satchel around his torso is digging into the nape of his neck.
He had told Izuku it was too tight earlier that week, when he was adjusting it—reluctantly asking for help because he was unable to do it himself. He’d given Katsuki the cold shoulder that whole morning, even as he packed his bags with remedies and books of Latin healing spells, made sure that he had enough food to last him a good three months—even though he told him he could just hunt for food—, even as he pretended he wasn’t on the verge of tears as Katsuki mounted Eijirou’s saddle and took control of the reins.
Even as Katsuki had turned to plant kisses on his cheeks in what the villagers called “la bise,” promising to come back before winter could make its way round.
He turned his head then too, tears threatening to fall over freckled cheeks, nose scrunching up and ruining his pretty face.
He fists the rough skin under his palm, pulling some of the scales, cursing softly when Eijirou hisses in pain.
“Sorry.”
Eijirou huffs in acknowledgment, he doesn’t like to talk in his dragon form, saying it takes too much energy to fly and speak at the same time. Eyeing the ground below, he decides they’d flown enough for the day, and Katsuki had had enough of his Izuku instilled pity party.
He pulls at Eijirou’s reins, a “ slow down ” gesture so he could pick a place to land.
They landed as softly as they could, the leaves of the trees around them brustling in the wind as large wings draped over them, a whirlwind of dust and sand swept over the island. They could settle here for the night and be off by the morning, if the weather allowed it.
He glances up at the thought, scanning the sky. It's as blue as the water, but the ragged bottoms of the cumulus clouds above predict rain, dark clouds slowly making their way east.
Eijirou was easy to fly in the rain, so high the drops were practically still ice, but he knew from experience water made it possible for him to slip off the saddle.
His stomach growls loudly as he dismounts Eijirou, the obnoxious dragon huffing in amusement.
“You shut up.” He orders, sitting in the tall grass and opening his satchel.
Silently, he hopes that Izuku had packed something nourishing during his unjust vow of silence.
He digs around for a bit, a grunting a noise of frustration as he comes up empty handed.
Instead of food, potions of various colors and consistencies fill the small bag, all in little round bottles with names and instructions written on tags in Izuku’s messy handwriting.
“Healing; 3 drops onto the wound if small, 7 drops if the wound is bigger than the palm.”
“Night vision; drink if night is too dark to navigate Eijirou. One time use, drink full bottle. Do not let the Eijirou digest while in dragon form.”
He digs through the bag once more. Blue, pink, yellow, neon glowy green, purple—
“Ah.” He’d seen Auntie Inko make it enough times for her own expeditions to know by the color. A murky brown-ish gray liquid with a tag written ‘ Hunger ’ on it.
He reads out the instructions to Eijirou, who seems more interested in attempting to grab a small rock with his talons.
“Drink in fragments, weak stomachs drink only three drops—tch, weak my ass.” He scans through the tag, it’s the longest one in the bag, coming with more instructions than some of the more complex sounding ones. “Fills human stomachs for eight hours, four for dragons.”
The ground shakes behind him as Eijirou takes on his human form, waltzing over and plopping down next to him.
“Eight for humans, four for dragons.” He repeats, snagging the bottle from Katsuki’s hands. He pops the top and takes a swig, gagging immediately at the after taste.
“Dalcop.” Katsuki chuckles. He’d been through enough trial and error to know that Izuku’s elixirs were far from perfect—or as perfect as his mother’s were—but they worked just fine.
He’d improved at most magic related things around that age, despite Katsuki’s protests.
Anybody’s protests, really.
He raked through the bag once more, scoffing as he realized he’d only packed one hunger potion for Eijirou.
He sighs, standing and stretching his arms high above his head, taking in his surroundings.
The island wasn’t much to look at, there were oak trees of various sizes , sugar cane growing on sand near where the waves of the ocean hit the sand, small pebbles lining up to seemingly make a path, although no sign of life other than the animals around.
Sheep munched on the grass freely, paying him and Eijirou no mind.
“Are we setting shelter here for the night?” Eijirou asks, polishing off his own bottle. Katsuki nods, throwing a low “I’ll be back” over his shoulder as he makes his way towards the herd.
If he remembered correctly, Izuku had packed another bag with food, stashing it somewhere in the flaps of one of Eijirou’s wings, but lamb chops didn’t sound half bad.
Branches crack under his boots as he walks, not quite trying to hide his presence as he slides past trees.
He grabs one of the smaller sheep by the wool on its head, unsheathing his sword from its sleeve on his belt. The rest of the flock runs in the other direction, startled by the belting scream of the captured lamb, leaving it to kick feverishly in Katsuki’s hold.
He raises his sword high above his head, angling it slightly and brings it down full force. The head cuts clean, the lamb screams on last time. Its eyes go dark and dead as its body falls limply, splattering blood over Katsuki’s clothes and its own white wool, soaking into the soil under the grass and staining the maroon of his cape.
The smell of blood fills the air as he tosses the head, the lamb’s beady eyes stare at him wide from where it lands.
He eyes his cape, sucking his teeth in annoyance. He’d have to wash his clothes before returning to the village, the villagers would have his head if they believed he was killing anything other than animals.
Behind him, his ears pick up the crack of leaves as small steps run towards him, little huffs of breath accompanying them.
He turns as they approach, a little girl—who can't be more than five feet tall—with a short side pigtail and a large sun hat held to her head by a strap under her chin stops before him.
Her eyes are narrow as she looks between him and his sword, and the headless sheep hull bleeding into the grass.
“Oh.” She says softly as she steps forward, cringing as blood seeps from the ground and onto her sandals. “Well.”
She eyes the blood on his sword wearily, as if he’d dare raise his sword at a child.
Izuku would have his head.
“Do you speak japanese?” As small as she was, she seemed to be more scared of the dead lamb head a few feet away than the six foot man wielding a sword in front of her.
“Yeah.” He grunts out, it comes out hoarse and dry, the shock of seeing other life on the island stealing his tongue. He clears his throat. “Yes.” He says, louder.
The little girl nods, eyeing the lamb’s headless body once more.
“You can’t—” She’s interrupted by the low rumble of Katsuki’s stomach. He looks away, refusing to let himself be embarrassed in front of a small shrimp like her by something as inferior as hunger .
“Are you…hungry?” She asks, holding back her giggle.
Maybe killing children isn't beneath him.
“Well, you can’t go killing our livestock.” She says, pointing back to the direction she came. “Would you like some stew?”
~
The inside of the small cottage reminds him of home back with Auntie Inko and Izuku, warm and the same presence of a home filled with love.
The fire crackles in the corner, the small bowl of rabbit stew in front of Katsuki untouched, while Eijirou blows through his own.
Across the table, the little girl— Lala , her name—smiles at him sheepishly, her brother, Roro , stirs his bowl slowly. He hadn’t looked up from the stew since it had been placed in front of him.
The eldest of the three—Rody—grips the back of Lala’s chair, knuckles turning white. The anxious expression on his face only grew as his eyes flicker from him to the bloody sword in the corner of the cottage near the door.
Roro finally speaks up, clearing his throat as he grumbles softly.
“Heard you killed one of our sheep.” He pouts slightly, sliding a bit farther down his chair. “A baby one.”
Shit .
“Yeah.” The air around him thickens, Katsuki had never been good with children back at the village, he didn't expect that to change outside of it. “Was hungry.”
Rody clears his throat, patting Roro on the shoulder and turning his attention back to Katsuki and Eijirou.
“So what brings you to the island?” He asks cheerfully. His voice comes out poise, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fade as he drums an offbeat rhythm on the wooden table. “I can tell you’re not from here.”
They seemingly lived alone, without parents, and Rody didn't look any older than Katsuki himself.
“We’re gathering!” Eijirou chirps, setting down his empty bowl. Rody refills it without question, a charming host even when his two large, inked men with bloody swords and crossbows strapped to their hips had been ushered into his humble abode by a twelve year old.
“This late into the year?” Lala chimes in, cocking her head. “How strange of you. Even the witches don't come around this late!”
Usually, this time of year Katsuki would tag along with some of the village men to hunt—a task they had let him join when he turned thirteen, when they realized that he had better hearing than the average human and could be of use— killing wild pigs and deer for food and leather, gathering native berries so he could watch Izuku and Auntie make pies in the kitchen after dark, sometimes finding a flower for Izuku—for his potions of course. He always lit up when Katsuki brought them back, flattered that he was thinking of him.
About now he’d be snuggled up with his small family in front of the fireplace, drinking the tea of whatever new leaf Auntie had brought home from her latest expedition, sharing stories about voyages and reminiscing on old memories. Though he’d never admit it, those were moments Katsuki held dear, memories he’d keep with him on trips like these, when cottages like this reminded him of them and his heart ached with want.
“We are from Musutafu village.” He explains, pulling himself from his thoughts. “We’d meant to take this voyage earlier, but the summer storm had delayed our intentions.”
“Musutafu, you say?” Rody asked, slipping off one of his gloves to finally pick up his own spoon. He nodded in the direction of Katsuki’s bowl, urging him to eat before it got cold. “If I’ve heard the rumors correctly, your village houses dragons, no?”
Eijirou looks up from where he was polishing off his bowl, looking at Katsuki before saying anything. He cocks an eyebrow, mouthing ‘ rumors? ’ while wiping the stew from his chin. Katsuki shrugs, before slowly turning back to Rody.
“We are the dragons.” He states matter of factly, as if it should’ve been obvious.
The three stare at them in shock, and for a second, Katsuki believes that they’ll be chased out, until Roro’s eyes light up as if Katsuki had announced that Yule would come early this year, and he’d be allowed to put the apple in the boar’s mouth.
“Really?!” He exclaims, his spoon flicks drops of stew at Rody—who visibly recoils—as he makes his way out of his chair. “Well, where are your scales? Or your tail? May I see your teeth? Goodness, it's just like the books say! Lala—Lala look at his teeth .”
He practically climbs over the table, Rody holding him back by the back of his shirt to keep him from closing the distance, but he squints and squirms in an attempt to get a closer look at Eijirou’s open jaw.
“We don't have scales or tails in our human form.” Eijirou corrects him, open-mouthed and enthusiastic. It’s not everyday they get a positive reaction to being dragonfolk, especially back home.
“Well the books say you do.” Roro says, returning to his chair.
“Well the books lie.” Katsuki jabs.
Roro eyes him, there's no fear—did any of the children of this island fear him?—but the bob of his throat tells of hesitance.
“Forgive him, we don't get many visitors.” Rody laughs nervously. “A wandering trader here and now, but no one…” He trails off, eyeing the sword behind Katsuki once more, the blood surely drying by now over both the oak floor and shiney iron.
“No one is as… exciting .” He says, the tension finally bleeding from his shoulders as his eyes make their way back to Katsuki’s. There’s a spark of wonder in his eyes that matches his younger brother’s, and Lala smiles at Katsuki with all of her teeth.
“Please,” Rody says, reaching for Katsuki’s now cold bowl. He replaces it with a new one and somewhere in the back of his head Katsuki curses himself for being wasteful. He'd repay him with one of the herbs Izuku hopefully packed.
“Tell us about your village.”
~
The rain pitters against the window outside, lightning dancing around the cottage and thunder follows not long after. Eijirou sits cross legged beside the fire, telling Roro and Lala the tails of home. He leaves out the more graphic parts—the parts about shunning anyone who didn't meet the criteria.
Instead, he tells them of the glory battles of Sir. Toshinori, of how he protected the village from clans and evil way back in 1390 CE, and then had been so kind to train Katsuki and Eijirou after his retirement. Speaks of how the townsmen would dress up as women in the spirit of Yule and go door to door singing festive songs and telling jokes in the dead of winter.
If Katsuki hadn’t known better, he would have laughed along, told stories of their “ lovely home ” that would leave the kids eyes shining for days.
But his days in the village were not all spent in the kind arms of life. He had fought for his place in the village, and even so, the townspeople were reluctant to let him in to this day.
Katsuki had spent most of his life with Izuku and his mother.
When they first arrived at the small village, Katsuki couldn’t have been older than a hatchling , the townspeople had attempted to chase them out, afraid of the misfortune and suffering that age old tales had told dragonfolk bring. Inko, a kind and beautiful woman—who Katsuki later found out was a well loved witch who had worked as a nurse in the village for years—had stood in the way of the villagers, reasoned that they should be let in, and—according to his mother—had sacrificed herself, despite having a child due.
Six years later his father had passed, the year after that his mother.
He had moved in with the Midoriya family then, living with them in their small cottage on the outskirts of the village. Inko had her husband build another room next to Izuku’s, the last good thing he did before running off.
Then it was just the three of them.
Izuku always claimed he didn't mind him not being around—didn’t want him around.
He seemed to start wanting lots of things around that time, when his father left. Always wanting Katsuki to show him how to use “ dragon powers ,” never quite understanding that it was something he was never destined to have, wanting his mother to teach him how to cast spells and how to read the foreign languages of her spell books no matter how many villagers told him “ boys can’t be witches” and learnt them regardless , wanting to sleep in the same bed as Katsuki or his mother, because nights alone had began to feel a little more lonely.
“Do you ever miss him?” Katsuki had asked, two years after the question had been due, as they laid in the grassy plains of the meadow behind the cottage. He hadn’t been aware of the relationship between Izuku and his father then, hadn’t known if they were close enough for him to even miss anything about him, but it felt like something a friend should ask.
Izuku hesitated, seemingly choosing his words wisely. “Well, I’d be a liar if I said no, and we’re all aware of what they do to liars in this village.” He sat up, bringing his knees to his chest, hugging himself as somewhere in the distance a man let out an animalistic roar, a chorus of cheers echoing behind him as flames crackled loudly.
Katsuki was well aware of what happened to liars in their village. It was to be his fate nine years ago.
“But it’s not the kind of miss I usually feel.” He looked towards the sky, freckles prominent on sun kissed, mondoré skin. “I miss mother when she goes on long expeditions for remedy ingredients, I miss you when you and little Eijirou head out towards the forest for your ‘mystery training ’ with Sir Toshinori.” He scratches the bottom of Eijirou’s chin, who had been soaking in the sun in his dragon form paying their conversion no mind. “It’s a different ‘miss’ with him. It's missing someone who's guaranteed to never come back.”
Katsuki didn’t know how to respond, he hadn’t expected so much from a simple question. He couldn’t help but feel a flame of hatred for Izuku’s father as he spoke, feeling as if the rocks thrown at him as he ran past the villagers and out of the village wasn't enough. He couldn’t understand how a man could leave such a kind and caring woman such as Inko, who was raising a son just as kind and beautiful.
Izuku was practically the splitting image of perfection.
“How do you know we’ll come back?” He scoffs, remembering the times Auntie Inko had returned with broken limbs, small scrapes against skin, once with a good seven inches of her hair jaggedly chopped off.
She always worried the villager to death.
“Training with Sir Toshinori always feels like near death. Sometimes I think he will kill me.”
Izuku smiled at him, teeth white and perfect, eyes scrunched, the heavy weight of his words lightened by his giggles.
“I trust Mother.” He scooted a little closer, resting his head on Katsuki’s shoulder before he could scootch away from the sudden invasion of space. “I think I may trust you even more.”
Katsuki’s stomach lurches, and for a moment he thinks he might actually throw up from the tooth-rotting sweetness Izuku spews daily. Instead his cheeks buzz, a warmth spreading through him that he feels in the tips of his fingers and nose.
“…trust you more.”
Katsuki had no idea just how much he had loved hearing those words.
“Who’s Izuku?” Roro asked, his spot in front of Ejirou had been taken by Rody.
He sat on his legs beside Katsuki, peering up at him while obviously resisting the urge to nitpick at his every dragon-like feature. “Sorry, you were mumbling.”
Damn you, Izuku.
“Nobody.” He answers gruffly, turning away from Roro.
He seems unconvinced, cocking an eyebrow at Katsuki and shifting into a cross legged position.
“Is he another dragon?”
“No.”
“A hunter?”
“No.”
“Perhaps he keeps sheep, like us.”
“Like hell.”
“What’s wrong with sheep?”
Katsuki turns back towards Roro, the kid’s persistent and Katsuki knew there was a question at the tip of his tongue no matter what answer he gave him.
Truth be told, he had always asked Izuku the same thing, “What is wrong with sheep?”, “Must you practice magic?”, “What if one day they decide that they've had enough of you?”
Izuku never cared—never listened , he had his mind set on magic ever since he’d first watched his mother heal one of the maidens when they were young. Always eager to learn a new spell, or show Katsuki the same spell over and over—and over— until he could probably recite it himself, or plead Katsuki to go out into the forest and gather ingredients for the newest elixir he wanted to perfect.
Always so persistent.
“Magic?” Roro asks, tilting his head.
Fucking dammit, Izuku.
“A witch.” Katsuki confirms, turning away again when Roro opens his mouth.
“But you said he was a boy.”
“He is.”
“He’s a boy witch?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
Roro brings his legs to his chest, hugging himself and resting his head on his knees.
“Does he know magic?” He asks softly.
“Well he’s a witch isn't he? Yeah, lots of it.”
Roro ponders on this, as if choosing through his options.
“So he's a good witch, yes?”
“The fuckin’ best.”
Roro pauses, a wobbly smile on his face as he processes. “I’d like to know magic.” He mumbles it so low, Katsuki barely catches it. “I’d like…to be a witch.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“Boys can’t be witches.”
“But you just said Izuku was—”
Katsuki sighs, low and heavy as he shifts his position to face Roro.
“Izuku’s different.”
“How so?”
“He just is.”
Roro stares at him, nodding slowly. Seeming to understand the message, he rests his head on his knees again, smiling softly at Katsuki.
“I'd like to visit your village some day.” A far away look dawns on his face, as if daydreaming of the far away place Eijirou had described, with meadows that stretched out as far as the eye could see and strong men that fought and protected their homes. “I'd like to see how ‘different’ Izuku and I are.”
Katsuki clicks his teeth, averting his gaze once more to watch Eijirou attack Lala and Rody into a tickle fight.
His village was lovely, that he would never object.
But Izuku…was different .
“He’d like you.” Katsuki grumbles.
Persistent, both of them.
Izuku would love him.
Roro smiles, teeth white and blinding, as he digs his face into his knees. Katsuki rests a hand in his hair, racking it through like he does with Izuku.
“I'll become a witch.”
Damn you, Izuku.
~
Rody pushes the pillow into his arms before he can object, tossing one to Eijirou and cracking them a smile.
He’s changed into his sleepwear, Lala and Roro tucked in for the night.
“I was going to toss you back into the forest,” he chuckles, handing him a soft wool blanket, dyed bright colors that clash terribly with one another. “they wore me down.” He points a thumb in the direction of the children's room.
Katsuki sighs, for all he wants to decline, the thought of sleeping in a warm bed in a nice cottage is far more appealing than sleeping in the rainstorm outside.
“A month.” Rody says, holding up a finger to emphasize his point. “Generous, considering you killed one of my sheep.”
Katsuki frowns, he’d have to give him more than herbs to repay him. “Thank you.” Eijirou says from where he's setting up his nest of blankets. “Genuinely.”
“Don’t worry.” He waves him off, turning on his heels to the little door to what Katsuki assumes is his own bedroom. “It’d be wrong to let folks sleep under the trees.”
“We’ll work for it.” Katsuki confirms, squeezing the eyesore of a blanket in his hands. “Not looking to owe anyone favors.”
Rody chuckles, nodding softly. He opens the creaky door of his bedroom, waving to him and Eijirou as he shuts the door softly.
Eijirou’s snores echo through the small living room, and Katsuki considers smothering him to death. He rolls over, squeezing his eyes shut and counting the dots that appear, trying to clear his mind. The guilt sits in his heart and rolls down his body until it sits in his legs. The memory of the tears threatening to fall plaguing Katsuki’s mind as he feels the world spin beneath him.
“Don’t go.”
“Please. Don’t go.”
Katsuki doesn't sleep.