Chapter Text
In this land of magic and legend, every village has its tale, every mountain its fable, and every river its song.
Yet, for every glimmer of magic that danced through the world, there were shadows pushing back—dark legends that clawed at the edges of light.
And for All Might, this darkness was no mere story; it was the cruel reality he faced.
Every few thousand years, as the Dark Forces stirred, a new successor was chosen—a bearer of the golden light. Passed down from generation to generation, this power was more than a legend; it was the key to imprisoning the darkness in an endless struggle between light and shadow. All Might, the greatest hero of his age, knew this truth better than any. Though his power could seal the darkness in a realm of nightmares, he lacked the strength to truly destroy it.
Determined to break the cycle, All Might turned to ancient magic, ensuring his essence would live on, bound to the next hero of light. He would guide them as a guardian spirit, lending his strength and wisdom so long as they held hope in their heart. This time, he vowed, the darkness would be truly defeated.
“My successor will vanquish you, All For One,” All Might declared as his magic surged, locking the dark forces away. “They will finally end what we started—they will end this cycle.”
“We shall see,” All For One’s voice echoed, cold and unyielding, as he was sealed away once more.
With All For One’s imprisonment, peace gradually returned to the world. The tales of darkness and evil became little more than bedtime stories, whispered at night to scare the youth into dreaming of a better world.
But deep within, All Might knew—the battle was far from over.
After the war, he sacrificed his lifespan, binding his spirit to the next successor. Their combined magic would be the key to ending the darkness for good. With his legacy intertwined with the chosen hero, he placed his hopes in a future where light would finally triumph.
For as long as shadows lurked and legends whispered, the golden light would endure—waiting for the one destined to shatter the darkness...
Once and for all.
____
All Izuku had ever known were the rolling meadows and the gentle winds of his childhood.
He sprinted through the tall grass, arms spread wide, the soft waves of green brushing against his cheeks. “I’m a knight! You can’t catch me!” he called over his shoulder, laughter bubbling up with each step.
His mother’s laughter chased after him, light and full of warmth. “Oh, I bet I can, birthday boy!” she teased, her strides closing in fast.
Izuku barely heard her over the pounding of his own heart. A flash of white caught his eye—a rabbit, ears perked, staring toward the tree line beyond their home. Without thinking, he mirrored its movements, hopping back and forth before darting after it.
The rabbit disappeared behind a familiar stone, the same one where he and his mother had pressed their painted hands just last spring, their imprints forever etched into its smooth surface. Izuku crouched low, peering around the edge, determined to find the little creature. He’d bring it home, take care of it—
“Got you!”
His mother’s arms wrapped around him, lifting him effortlessly. Izuku squealed, caught between a giggle and a protest as she spun him into a tight embrace, his curls pressed against her chest.
Their laughter mixed together, tangled in the golden light of the setting sun.
“How about we head inside for your birthday dinner?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
Izuku scrunched up his nose. “I have to help the rabbit.”
“The rabbit?” Inko glanced around, stepping fully past the stone. “What rabbit?”
“The white one! It was just here!” Izuku pointed toward the swaying grass, where the little creature had vanished.
Inko sighed, watching the wind carry the last hints of movement toward the forest. “What if the rabbit didn’t want to be helped?”
“I have to! Heroes help everybody!” Izuku declared, puffing out his chest.
His mother chuckled, adjusting her grip as he wiggled in her arms. “Well, even heroes need to take breaks. Come on, dinner’s almost ready. And it’s your favorite—katsudon.”
At that, Izuku’s eyes lit up. “Katsudon!” He clapped his hands, excitement quickly overshadowing his disappointment.
But later that night, on the eve of his fifth birthday, Izuku received the news.
“You’re old enough now, Izuku,” his mother said gently. “It’s time for you to start learning the family trade. We’ve all been shepherds for generations. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to herd the sheep.”
Izuku’s young heart sank as he nodded, though a heavy feeling settled in his chest. Shepherd? He thought, a pang of disappointment sharp in his throat. But that’s not what I wanted to do.
I wanted to be a hero.
After cake, when his mother was busy with the dishes, Izuku’s resolve hardened. He didn’t understand exactly why or how, only that he needed to leave—to prove to his mother that he was meant for something different, something more than just this.
Izuku knew he had the heart of a hero. He knew it in his soul.
He ran and ran and ran until the edge of the woods began to form in his vision. He knew the woods were dangerous, his mother had told him so plenty of times before. But at that moment, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything, except to explain to her the feelings deep within.
Izuku's feet carried him, faster and faster into the encroaching darkness. He could prove himself, here, and now. If he could just find that rabbit—
In his frantic flight, Izuku tripped over a hidden tree root, and the world spun as he fell—down, down, down—through the tangled underbrush.
He landed in a rough heap among the shrubs, breathless and disoriented.
A sharp sting laced through his palms where they had scraped against the rough earth, dirt clinging to his skin. Izuku sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as he tried to steady himself. The world tilted, shadows stretching long and unfamiliar beneath the dense canopy above.
The forest was different here than it was closer to home. Colder. Quieter.
A shiver traced down his spine as he pushed himself upright, his fingers curling into the damp soil. The rustling in the leaves had stopped. Not even the wind whispered through the branches.
Fear curled in his chest, tight and suffocating.
But just as his vision blurred with the threat of tears, a small, blonde head poked into view, slipping out of the shadows like he’d been sent by the sun.
The boy tilted his head, eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his voice brimming with innocent confusion.
Izuku blinked, shaking his head to clear the daze. As he slowly sat up, he realized he had landed in a small clearing. His hands brushed against the smooth grass beneath him, and he took a deep breath, wiping a stray leaf from his cheek.
“I fell,” Izuku replied simply, getting to his feet without any help from the other boy. The blonde was dressed funny, with markings on his shirt and sleeves, with necklaces of all colors wrapped around his small neck. He was watching Izuku silently, his gaze intense under the pale light of the moon.
“Oh,” the boy said, turning away and starting to walk off.
“Wait!” Izuku called out, scrambling to catch up.
The other boy spun around, his face twisted into a scowl. “What?” he snapped, clearly irritated.
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, his voice trembling slightly. “Do you… do you know how to get out of here?” His tears began to spill again, the thought of being so far from home, and what his mother was thinking, staying all alone and—
“What… Ugh! Fine! I’ll show you, but quit crying!” the blonde boy grumbled, turning back toward the underbrush and stomping away.
Izuku quickly wiped his cheeks, following closely behind.
They moved through the forest in silence, navigating the tangled underbrush and slipping past low-hanging branches. After a few minutes, Izuku hesitated before breaking the quiet. “What’s your name?”
The blonde boy paused momentarily, then continued along the path, his voice a bit gruff. “Katsuki.”
“Oh, I’m Izuku!” Izuku said, trying to sound cheerful despite his lingering distress. The night sounds seemed to surround them, a quiet chorus in the dark. “Nice to meet you, Kats… Kats…” He stumbled over the unfamiliar name, struggling to pronounce it correctly. “Hmm, I’ll call you Kacchan!”
Katsuki stopped dead in his tracks, whipping back around to stomp toward Izuku. “Hah?! What did you just call me—”
Before Katsuki could finish his outburst, he tripped over an unseen root and splashed into a small pond to their side. Izuku’s eyes went wide with alarm. He hurried over, extending a hand toward Katsuki, who was now floundering in the shallow water.
“Kacchan, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Izuku’s voice was filled with concern as he reached out, desperate to help.
Katsuki stared up at him, momentarily stunned, his expression a mix of shock and irritation. Izuku tried to help him out, but Katsuki swatted his hand away and pushed himself up from the water with a scowl.
“I’m fine, you stupid Deku,” Katsuki snapped, brushing the water off his clothes with a huff. “Let’s go.”
Izuku watched as Katsuki shook himself dry and started walking again, seemingly unaffected by his fall. Relieved that his new companion was unharmed, Izuku quickly fell into step beside him. As they continued through the dark forest, the presence of Kacchan made the shadows a bit less foreboding.
“Why did you offer to help me?” Katsuki’s voice was almost lost in the rustling of leaves, barely audible.
Izuku just ran a little faster to catch up with him. “Why wouldn’t I?"
"Because you don't know me."
"Yes, I do! You're Kacchan!"
"Stop calling me that!"
"Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan!"
"Gah! Just answer my question!"
"Well," Izuku tapped a finger to his chin. "I guess I helped you because we're friends."
"We are not friends," Katsuki replied, stomping further across the forest floor.
"Well, we weren't before. But, we’re friends now, so—”
“We’re not!” Katsuki snapped, abruptly shoving Izuku forward. Izuku stumbled and broke through the tall grasses—
To find himself at the edge of the woods, right where he had first entered. The familiar landscape of his home lay just beyond the tree line.
Izuku turned around, hoping to find Katsuki and say goodbye, but the forest was empty. “Wait, Kacch—!”
“Izuku?!”
Before he could call out again, his mother appeared, rushing towards him with a look of sheer relief. She enveloped Izuku in a tight, tearful embrace.
“Izuku! I was so worried!” she cried, her voice choked with emotion. “Where did you disappear to? You know you can’t run off into the woods like that…”
Izuku clung to his mother, his own tears spilling over. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he mumbled, his young voice muffled against her shoulder. “I just wanted to...to...” he trailed off, unable to finish.
His mother held him tighter, her grip reassuring. “It’s okay, baby. You’re safe now. Let’s get you home.”
As they walked back toward their house, Izuku glanced back to the forest, finding a pair of red eyes watching him from the treetops.
____
After that night, Izuku would go play with Katsuki.
Each morning, he slipped between the trees, calling out for his friend. And every day, without fail, they would meet in their little corner of the forest, where their laughter and banter echoed among the leaves. They climbed trees, raced over mossy logs, and played all sorts of games, although Katsuki often had a lot to say on the matter.
It felt like nothing could come between them—until one day, everything changed.
Izuku bounded into their usual clearing, excitement bubbling in his chest. “Kacchan!” he yelled, weaving through the trees and tripping over gnarled roots.
“Kacchan!” he called again, joyfully stomping through the crunchy leaves and splashing through muddy streams.
Suddenly, as if the forest had decided to answer him, he heard Kacchan’s voice.
“Would you just shut it already?” Katsuki’s voice came from seemingly nowhere.
“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, thrilled. “Where are you?”
“Up here,” Katsuki replied. Izuku looked up and saw Katsuki perched on a branch, munching on an apple and surveying the forest below.
Izuku waved excitedly. “What are you doing up there?”
Katsuki took another bite of his apple. “Escaping.”
Izuku tilted his head, puzzled. “From what?”
“Training,” Katsuki said, and Izuku nodded as if he understood.
“I’m gonna become the best there is, Deku. Just you wait!” Katsuki declared with pride, and Izuku nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Of course you are, Kacchan!”
“And don’t you forget it!”
“I won’t!”
“Hmph.” Katsuki took another bite of his apple, then hopped down from the tree branch, using orange swirls of magic to steady his descent.
“Whoa!” Izuku yelled, rushing over to meet him. “Your magic is so cool!”
“Yeah, I know,” Katsuki replied. “Listen, you can’t come looking for me anymore.”
Izuku’s excitement faltered. “Why not?”
Katsuki hesitated, chewing on the words he didn’t want to say. “My guardians are… strict. I’m not supposed to have frie—people I know outside the tribe. And I’m definitely not allowed to help anyone.”
Izuku’s face fell, his eyes clouded with disappointment. “Oh… I get it.”
Katsuki sighed, stepping closer and ruffling Izuku’s messy curls. “But listen,” he whispered, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “I’m still gonna help people. Just keep it between us, yeah?”
Izuku’s eyes sparkled as he nodded eagerly, a grin spreading wide across his face. “You’re gonna be a hero, Kacchan!”
Katsuki’s smirk faltered, and for a brief moment, he swallowed hard, wrestling with his thoughts. Without a word, he glanced at the apple in his hand and offered it to Izuku. “Here. Take it.”
Izuku accepted the fruit, biting into it with enthusiasm. “Thanks, Kacchan!” he said, his voice muffled by the sweet crunch.
But when he looked up, Katsuki was gone, vanished into the trees, leaving only the rustling leaves and the faint echo of his presence behind.
____
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into years, yet to his dismay, Izuku never saw Kacchan again
But as time marched on, Izuku’s days became consumed by a new, singular purpose: to follow in his family’s footsteps and become a shepherd.
Every day followed a familiar routine: tending to the sheep, guiding them to fresh pastures, and ensuring they were safe from any potential threats. The work was simple but fulfilling. He learned to navigate the rolling meadows with ease, his hands becoming skilled at the tasks of shepherding. From dawn until dusk, his days were filled with the rhythms of his new life—feeding the flock, mending fences, and ensuring every sheep was accounted for.
Friends and neighbors often visited, sharing tales of distant lands and grand adventures with Izuku. They spoke of wonders he could only dream of, but he never had the chance to experience them firsthand. His longing for something greater was gradually buried under the weight of duty, and the spark of heroism he once felt had long since dimmed into a quiet, unfulfilled ache.
One afternoon, a family friend arrived at their home, carrying a basket of fresh bread and some medicine. She had news that brought a chill to Izuku’s heart. “I heard on the road,” she said, her voice low and serious, “that there’s a dragon in these parts now. You’d better be careful. They say it might be hunting sheep.”
Izuku’s mother frowned, brushing off the warning with a wave of her hand. “That’s just a rumor,” she said, her tone dismissive. “There hasn’t been a dragon sighting in centuries!”
Izuku nodded in agreement. Dragons were little more than legends now, having vanished from the world centuries ago, along with their masters, the Barbarians. Though they didn't get much news out here, he knew well enough that either no longer roamed the earth.
“They’re probably just trying to stir up trouble and lay claim to our beautiful land,” Inko added with a scoff. The lush, fertile grounds they tended were too valuable to give up easily. The Midoriyas were fiercely protective of their ancestral home.
“Just be careful, dearies,” their friend said before taking her leave.
And with that, the Midoriyas returned to their routines, the talk of dragons fading away from their minds into nothing at all.