Chapter Text
A disheveled blonde-haired teen stomped through the old, forgotten worship grounds of several gods once revered by the people of Japan. Gods like Toshinori Yagi, Nana Shimura, En, Hikage Shinomori, Daigoro Banjo, and Yoichi Shigaraki were still prayed to at the newly built chapel not far from here. But there was one god whose name had faded from memory, whose statue had been left to gather dust and crumble: Izuku Midoriya, the "forgotten" god.
No one could recall his face, his deeds, or even the sound of his name. His marble statue stood at the far corner of the ruins, neglected for over a century. Not a single hand had brushed against the stone, no offering had graced his altar for as long as anyone could remember. That is, until today.
Katsuki Bakugo stormed through the worn path, his boots scraping against the broken stones. His brow furrowed as he glanced around at the statues of gods he didn’t care about. He was never one for worship, didn’t believe in the grandeur of it all. He had better things to do than bow to deities who never showed their faces. But there was something different about this one. As he approached Izuku’s forgotten altar, something in the air shifted, though Katsuki couldn’t place it. The statue was covered in a thick layer of dust, cracks running along its weathered surface like veins.
Katsuki grunted, annoyed, as he wiped the dust from the offering space with the back of his hand. His fingers traced the lines of the statue's face, not with reverence, but more out of curiosity. He knelt down, pulling out a small caramel candy from his pocket and placing it on the altar. “I’m not good at this ‘god’ shit,” Katsuki muttered, his voice gruff and unsure. “But you’re the coolest one here, so… yeah.”
He stood, staring skeptically at the nameplate. "Izuku Midoriya – God of peace and bravery. Those who leave a gift will receive the Heiwa Kami’s blessing of protection and peace." Katsuki scoffed, his disbelief evident. "Yeah, right. Peace and bravery, huh?"
Up above, from a realm unseen, Izuku watched with wide eyes. He hadn’t felt the touch of a mortal in so long, hadn’t heard his name spoken aloud in what seemed like eons. He sighed deeply, knowing what he had to do. Reluctantly, he extended his divine presence toward the boy, his voice echoing softly through the air.
“Katsuki Bakugo,” Izuku’s voice boomed, though only Katsuki could hear it. “You have earned the protection and peaceful influence of I, the Heiwa Kami, Izuku Midoriya. You will be guarded and watched over until you no longer require the gods' service.”
Katsuki whipped around, his eyes wide, fists clenched. “What the hell?! No way—who the fuck—?!” His heart raced as he searched for the source of the voice.
Izuku’s tone was bored, almost dismissive. “The first part of your protection contract is trust. You must believe in me, Katsuki, for this to work.”
Katsuki blinked, bewildered. “This is some kind of joke, right? You expect me to believe a ‘forgotten god’ is gonna protect me?”
After several days of incessant questions, disbelief, and begrudging conversation, Katsuki finally came to terms with the fact that Izuku really was a god. But that only made him more curious.
“So, what? You’ve been asleep this whole time? How does that even work?”
“I watch over my altar when summoned, or on a schedule,” Izuku explained calmly.
“Do you have powers?” Katsuki asked, his arms crossed.
Izuku sighed. “I’m a god, Katsuki. Yes, I have powers.”
“And you’re gonna protect me? Like I need it—I’m the strongest there is!”
Izuku’s voice softened, a hint of amusement lacing his words. “I can alter fate. I'm pretty damn good protection.”
Katsuki continued his barrage of questions, though there was an underlying fascination in his tone. “What do you look like?”
“Like my statue,” Izuku answered curtly.
“Will I ever see you in person?” Katsuki persisted.
Izuku let out a tired sigh. “Can we stop with the twenty questions?”
Katsuki grinned, the excitement in his eyes undeniable. “I bet you’re really cool-looking in person!”
Izuku, despite himself, couldn’t help but chuckle. Katsuki Bakugo was the last person he’d ever expected to be enamored with a forgotten god like him, but there was something oddly endearing about it. “Of course I am,” Izuku responded, a smirk audible in his voice. Though beneath the humor, Izuku knew there was more complexity to his existence than Katsuki could ever imagine. Gods, after all, carried scars mortals could never understand.
Weeks passed, and what began as an obligatory connection slowly evolved into something like friendship. Katsuki and Izuku spent hours together, often in conversation, sometimes in silence. Izuku watched over him, offering guidance, protection, and even comfort. The boy who seemed too strong to cry would often break down in front of him, tears streaming down his face, his anger and sorrow bubbling to the surface in ways Katsuki could never show anyone else.
Izuku watched him laugh too—the light in his crimson eyes, the rare smile that transformed his face. Every time Katsuki laughed, Izuku found himself wishing he could experience it as a mortal, to feel the warmth of that moment more deeply. Katsuki’s laughter was like sunlight to him, a reminder of the life he once lived.
But Katsuki’s temper hadn’t faded. He still had his angry outbursts, yelling at his mother, insulting his friends. Yet, in Izuku’s presence, that fiery demeanor softened. The bomb was disarmed, it seemed. Maybe it was because he treated Izuku like an external monologue, or the connection they could both feel pull at them. The god watched, fascinated, as Katsuki became more and more attached to him, rarely leaving his house unless absolutely necessary.
One day, while studying, Katsuki glanced up from his notes. “Hey, Zuku?” It was a nickname Katsuki had given him, and though it was informal, it felt oddly fitting. And Izuku happened to blush almost every time it was used.
“What is it, Katsuki?” Izuku replied.
“If I died, or gave up my soul or something… would I get to see you? Like, really see you?” Katsuki’s voice was deadly serious, his gaze unwavering. “I’d give anything to see you in person.”
Izuku froze. “…What?”