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“Don’t worry—I’ll save you!”
Ten year old Hanta swings his imaginary sword in the air, slashing through goblins and ogres and big, scary dragons and all the other bad guys from his mama's stories.
He jumps and ducks and rolls through the woods, braving the dirt and tree branches and bugs like the courageous hero he is.
Hero is his favorite game to play. There aren’t too many heroes around anymore, but Hanta knows everything about them. His parents tell him of heroes’ journeys and quests while they put him to bed, of the dangerous beasts they fought and the people they saved.
When Hanta grows up, he wants to be a hero and save people!
Sometimes, his papa will play hero with him, but he’s at work and none of his friends can play, so Hanta’s by himself today.
It’s still fun, even if he’s by himself.
He’s halfway through a battle with a giant (and he’s winning, by the way), when a loud, frightened chirping makes him pause. He cocks his head to the side, scratches his ear, and listens.
There it is again: really high-pitched and closer to a trill than a chirp. Like some kind of bird.
Like the sound of someone in trouble!
He breaks out into a run, ducking and weaving through the trees, listening for the chirping sound, until he finds himself in a clearing.
Hanta doesn’t know what he expected to find, but this definitely isn’t it.
Four large dogs surround a dragon; scratching and biting and snarling.
A dragon.
A real dragon.
Mama told him they were gone, said that if there were any still alive, they’re probably sleeping at the bottom of the sea.
In all the stories he’s read, the dragons are always evil and mean. They kidnap royalty and destroy villages and hoard all the gold. But this one is so small, so defenseless and scared that Hanta forgets everything he’s ever learned about dragons.
Righteous fury fills his heart. He doesn’t even think—he bends down, picks up a stick, and throws it at the dogs. “Hey!” he yells, striking a pose similar to the great hero, All Might. “Stop it!”
The growling and whimpering stops. The dogs slowly turn to face him, mouths pulled back in a snarl that shows off their massive sharp teeth.
“Oops.”
He hikes his bag further up his shoulder and makes a run for the nearest tree. He’s a real good climber, Papa has to climb trees for work sometimes, so Hanta’s been climbing for as long as he can remember.
He scales the tree in under a minute, hands all scratchy and scraped. The dogs growl at the base of the tree, claws digging into the bark.
From up high, he sees the dragon run into the bushes. Hanta doesn’t know how far it ran, but he hopes it’s far enough away that the dogs can’t find it.
One dog steps away from the tree, then runs and jumps onto it, snarling.
He should probably be scared, but he’s not. Maybe it’s adrenaline or stupidity, but deep down, Hanta knows he’ll be fine. He just needs to be smart. Papa always says that strength isn’t the only thing that defines a hero: a hero needs to be smart and kind, too.
Another dog howls, digging its claws into the trunk.
Well, he’s too far from home to call for help, and there are some branches he could break and throw, but he’s using them for balance. The only thing he has with him is—
His backpack.
With a resigned sigh, he digs around the inside of his satchel until he finds his lunch: a sandwich, a couple oranges, and a bowl of rice. Hanta really likes his mama’s sandwiches, but he also really likes not being dog chow. He holds the sandwich in his hand, the container of rice under his arm, and the oranges in his pocket.
He digs his fingers into the tree bark, even though it makes his fingers sting, and gets to his feet. With his free hand, he dangles the sandwich out, shaking it to get the dogs’ attention. The growling stops as their eyes narrow in on the food.
Using all the strength he can muster, Hanta chucks the sandwich as far away as he can. Next goes the rice, then the oranges.
The dogs take off after the food, knocking into each other as they scramble to get there first.
They were mean to the dragon and probably would’ve killed him if they managed to get up the tree, but Hanta can’t help but feel sorry for them.
They were just hungry.
Hanta waits until the barking fades away, then scurries down the tree, jumping when he gets low enough. “It’s okay!” he whisper-shouts. “You can come out now! The mean dogs are gone!”
Silence greets him.
Hanta is about to turn around when the leaves behind him rustle. He spins around just in time to see two crimson eyes blinking at him from the bush.
“Hi!” Hanta says softly, like he’s talking to the stray kittens in the village. “I’m Sero Hanta. I won’t hurt you—I chased the baddies away!”
The dragon trills quietly but doesn’t move.
Hm, maybe he’s too close. The cats like it when he gives them space—oh, and when he crouches down! Maybe dragons are like big cats?
Hanta slowly backs up then lowers himself until he’s sitting with his legs crossed beneath him. He mourns the loss of his lunch; maybe he should’ve saved some for his new friend.
The dragon blinks again, and if Hanta squints, he can see the reddish horns peeking out from the plants like thorns. Still, it stays hidden.
Sometimes, when Hanta meets new cats, they’re scared because people were mean to them before. Like that one tabby that has long scratches down her back. It took weeks of coaxing and milk and waiting for her to come to him. Just like Shouto, too. Mama said that it would take awhile for Shouto to open up because his papa was mean to him, so he doesn’t trust people easily.
So Hanta lays down on his back and watches the clouds drift by. They’re big and fluffy today and make lots of fun shapes! He absentmindedly picks at a scab on his elbow and breathes.
He really likes the woods. It’s really relaxing and quiet.
After awhile, the bushes rustle, and a small head pops out between the leaves.
Hanta slowly sits up, heart hammering in his chest. Please come out, he thinks. Please, please, please…
It’s a slow process, but eventually, the dragon emerges from its hiding place. The dragon is small compared to Hanta. It’s head reaches just below his waist, and it looks even smaller all hunched in on itself with its wings tucked behind its back.
“It’s okay,” Hanta repeats, sitting very still. “I won’t hurt you. I’m a hero, and heroes save people.”
The dragon tilts its head to the side, then lets out a happy trill. It bounces closer to Hanta and bonks its head against his arm, rubbing him like a cat.
Unlike a cat, it doesn’t have fur. Its scales are a bright, happy red like the apples Tokoyami’s family sells in town (they have the best apples). They’re rubbery to the touch, kind of like the leather boots his mama has.
Now that it’s not surrounded by dogs or leaves, Hanta sees that it’s horns are that same red but fade into a sleek black.
“Pretty…” he breathes, his hand hovering above its head. The dragon bumps his hand, smiling, so Hanta begins to stroke it.
“Your scales are really strong,” he says, scratching the dragon behind its ears (that’s what the cats like, and the dragon must like it, too, because it preens). “I’m glad the dogs couldn’t hurt you.”
The dragon chirps again then licks his hand.
“Ah, gross,” Hanta giggles, but he doesn’t mind that much. How can he when he’s petting an actual dragon?
Hanta spends the rest of the day playing with his new friend. They run around, splash each other in a creek, and climb trees. The dragon is a pretty fast climber, and it propels itself faster with its wings. Hanta wonders why it doesn’t fly, but it might be a sensitive subject, so he doesn’t say anything.
And they play heroes together—plowing through mud, rolling down hills… the dragon even lets him carry it! It nestles on top of his head, claws taking root in his hair.
It’s the most fun he’s ever had!
Hanta doesn’t have too many friends. He spends a lot of time helping his parents and his smile is weird and his elbows are unnaturally large. Shouto is his friend, and he has a few friends in the next town over, but he doesn’t get to see them too much.
The dragon, though, keeps up with him; it smiles, and Hanta thinks it laughs along with him!
They’re lying down in a field, the dragon curled up on his chest, when his mama calls for him. He’s reluctant to leave his new friend, but he can’t just ignore his mama.
He sighs and begrudgingly sits up. “I gotta go,” he says. The dragon whines. “Stay safe! If you see the dogs, run away, okay?”
The dragon head butts him, its claws digging into his shirt as Hanta pulls it away. Hanta scratches its head, and then leaves.
A few days after his adventures in the woods, Hanta is back. Well, he’s back to work, not to adventure. Sometimes, Mama asks him to pick plants for her herbal shop when she’s running low. Hanta doesn’t mind—he’s smart and knows lots of plants, and he likes helping his mama.
He also kinda hopes he runs into the dragon again, but it’s probably long gone by now.
As he treks through the woods, basket in hand, he can’t help but feel like something’s off. He’s not sure what, but the woods seem more… scary than normal. But he isn’t scared! Because he’s a brave hero like All Might, and All Might doesn’t get scared!
But… there might be something close to fear building in his chest.
Something rustles to his left, but when he whips around, nothing’s there. Hanta swallows, trepidation burning in his stomach.
Another few minutes go by without any creepy sounds, and, for a moment, Hanta thinks that maybe he was imagining the rustling.
A low growling is his only warning before something runs and knocks him to the ground. The basket falls, all the plants he gathered spilling onto the forest floor. They’re still salvageable so Hanta reaches for them, but they’re crushed under the weight of a large paw. And then a second. And then a third.
And then a fourth one steps on Hanta’s chest, pushing him onto his back. A dog snarls down at him, drool dripping onto Hanta’s face. It must be one of the wild dogs from earlier in the week.
Fear grips Hanta, holding him still in its grasp. All he can do is stare into the dog’s hungry eyes.
The dog leans closer, placing another paw on Hanta’s stomach.
He should’ve told his parents about the dogs, but thoughts of the dragon consumed him and he forgot all about them. He doesn’t have food to distract the dog this time, nor does he have a tree to climb.
The dog’s hot, foul breath clogs his nose. It bares its teeth, almost like its smirking.
Another paw lands on his arm, claws digging into his flesh. It hurts a lot, and Hanta can’t help the whimper that escapes him as blood begins trickling down his arm.
It’s weird, knowing he’s going to die. Death by wild dog isn’t what he anticipated, though. He wishes he could see his parents one last time or at least get the plants to his mama.
Hanta closes his eyes and braces himself for the impending pain, but nothing happens.
No, the rustling from earlier is back, and when he cautiously opens his eyes, he sees a red blur ram into the dog, knocking it off Hanta and tackling it.
Hanta scrambles to his feet, eyes widening. In front of him, a dragon wrestles with the dog, biting and growling, digging its claws into the dog’s flesh. But it isn’t just a dragon, it’s his friend.
For a moment, Hanta just stares, amazed. But the dog is bigger and stronger and bound to overcome the dragon. He looks around the area and sees a big stick. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.
With a shout, Hanta raises it above his head and hurls himself at the dog, bringing the stick down on its back once, twice, and a third time.
The dog howls in pain and turns toward him, eyes wild. Hanta gulps, but doesn’t back down—he can do this.
When it lunges for him again, he strikes it across the face, and it collapses, blood leaking out of a long scratch on its cheek.
Aside from the dog’s laboured breathing, it’s silent for a moment. Once Hanta is sure it’s out, he steps around it and reaches for the dragon. “We gotta run,” he pants. “If I carry you, I can get us outta here fast!”
The dragon tilts its head, looks between Hanta and the dog, then hops on his arm and crawls up to his neck. Its claws tickle a bit, but Hanta can giggle later. For now, he runs as far away as he can get.
When he’s back near the edge of the forest, he stops, breathing heavily. The dragon perches atop his head now, talons digging into his scalp.
“I think we’re good,” Hanta says, a hand over his heart. He plops down beneath a large tree, resting against the trunk.
The dragon chirps in agreement and scampers down his arm and onto the ground.
“You were following me, right?” Hanta asks.
The dragon nods, jumping up and down.
“You saved my life…” Hanta gasps as the reality of the situation dawns on him. “You’re my hero!”
For a second, some kind of recognition seems to cross its face, then the dragon smiles, showing off its pointy teeth. It nudges its head against Hanta’s knee.
Hanta laughs, petting it between its horns. “What do you say, wanna be friends?”
The dragon practically screams, bumping its head into Hanta’s arms, wings flapping, trilling. It glomps Hanta, knocking him onto his back while it licks his face.
“Haha, I’ll take that as a yes, then!”
From that moment on, the dragon follows Hanta around, and they become best friends. He names the dragon “Red Riot” (or, “Red” for short).
Red sleeps in a little nest under Hanta’s own bed. He gives Red his favorite blanket and one of the stuffed animals his classmate, Yaomomo, made him once. He slips food into his pockets at dinner for Red, but sometimes Red goes hunting. Hanta likes watching him fly. It’s really cool!
They do pretty much everything together, from adventuring in the woods to going to the market for his parents. Hanta even tells him the same bedtime stories his parents told him!
He feels so alive and happy when he’s with Red. Even though they don’t speak the same language, they have a connection that goes beyond words.
When Hanta is thirteen, he’s playing hero with Red in the forest after a rain storm kept them in the day before.
He laughs maniacally, yapping on and on about stealing all of Red’s treasure while Red, who has grown more over the years, chases him. Even though Hanta prefers playing the hero (especially when both he and Red are the heroes), he does like getting to do the villain monologues. Besides, Red huffed and huffed until Hanta agreed to be the villain this time.
As he runs and monologues, Hanta turns around to stick his tongue out at Red, and that turns out to be a huge mistake.
They’re deeper in the forest than they usually go, way past the river, even. Hanta isn’t as familiar with this part of the forest, so he doesn’t know he’s been running towards a cliff.
A cliff he just ran off.
He realizes his mistake a second too late and yelps as he falls. He scrambles to grab a hold of something—of anything.
Somehow, he manages to catch a bit of rock jutting out. It scrapes his palms and Hanta feels blood trickle down his wrist and into his sleeves. He tries to push himself back up, but it hurts—it hurts so much.
Red yelps above him, jumping between his feet. He’s still too small to save him, but hopefully he’ll be able to lead his parents to his body.
Hanta grips the edge of the rock with everything he has, but it’s fruitless. The rock is still wet from the rain, and he’s slipping and—
And he falls.
Except he doesn’t, somehow.
A rough, calloused hand catches his at the last second and hauls him up.
Hanta is yanked back onto solid ground with a grunt, and both he and his savior fall backwards, away from the edge.
He closes his eyes, chest heaving as his mind runs wild. He almost died. He almost died in front of his best friend, without getting to say goodbye to his friends or family.
Tears begin to form in his eyes, but he sniffs and refuses to let them fall. They sting as they well up, as they sit there. He doesn’t want to cry. Everything’s fine now. There’s no reason to be scared anymore.
(but the near death experience did scare him—it scares him so much his chest hurts)
“Are you okay?”
In the heat of the moment, Hanta forgot about his savior. He doesn’t know how someone could’ve saved him. He didn’t pass anyone as he played with Red, and he’s too far away from the village. It’s so convenient and lucky that Hanta almost can’t believe it.
“Yeah,” he replies. “I just need to catch my breath.”
Eventually, once he feels calm enough, Hanta cracks open his eyes.
In front of him is a boy about Hanta’s age. He has spiky red hair and red crimson eyes. Sharp teeth poke out from his nervous smile.
Hanta has never seen this boy before—he’d remember someone like this—yet somehow, he feels like he has.
Then his gaze lowers to the boy’s hands, and he nearly rolls right back off the cliff in shock. There are scales on his hands—familiar apple red scales. And that’s when it hits him.
“Red?” he cries, voice cracking.
The boy—Red, it has to be Red—scratches the back of his neck and nods sheepishly. “Uh, yeah? I—that’s me.”
Hanta blinks a few times. Then he laughs. “Am I dead?”
Red’s head cocks to the side like a confused puppy. “No—I saved you, remember?”
“You’re a dragon.”
“Yup!” Red says proudly, chest puffing out.
“But you’re also a human,” Hanta says carefully. This cannot be happening. “So, my dragon friend, the one that sleeps under my bed, has been a human this whole time?”
Now, Red cringes. “Technically I’m a shifter,” he mutters. “I was gonna tell you, but my mama told me not to tell anyone I was a shifter and to avoid humans. Most of ‘em think we’re extinct, and Mama says it’s better that way.”
“I guess that makes sense…” Hanta nods slowly. Until he met Red, he was under the impression that dragons were extinct. The people who believe in dragons the most are usually shady people like poachers or hunters who look at slaying and selling dragons as the biggest conquest possible. Sometimes, people like that roll into town and set up a stand in the market, claiming to have real dragon scales and horns. Hanta stayed clear of them from a young age, but the first time he saw one of them after befriending Red, he ran home crying.
Yes, he understands why Red’s mom told him to avoid humans.
Red frowns at Hanta’s prolonged silence. “I’m sorry I took advantage of your trust like that and that it’s all coming out like this. Are you upset?”
“No—sorry, this is just a lot to process,” Hanta laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. The blood from the cuts on his palm continues trickling down his arm at the movement. It’s gross and feels weird. He rolls up his sleeves, wets licks his thumb, and tries rubbing it off. It doesn’t work—if anything, he just kinda smears it around. “I’m sorry if you felt forced to shift.”
“No!” Red cries. “I wanted to save you! I just couldn’t let you get hurt, you’re important to me!”
His dragon best friend is a human—or shifter, Red said. He’s been living with a dragon for three years. It’s just like something out of the bedtime stories his papa used to tell him. And Hanta is important to his dragon shifter best friend. It’s surreal and confusing and his head hurts and—
A question pops into Hanta’s mind, one that bothers him more than, well, everything that’s happened in the last five minutes. Maybe that’s because the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet and it’ll all suddenly hit him tonight. Or maybe he’s still young enough to shrug this kind of thing off. Or maybe his connection with Red is so strong it transcends language and species.
“Why’d you stay?” Hanta asks softly, digging his heel into the dirt.
“Huh?”
Hanta breathes in. “It’s been a few years, but you stayed with me. You could’ve flown off while I was gone or shifted into your human form and left. But you stayed.”
Red pauses to think for a moment, his head tilted so similarly to the way he would in his dragon form when he was confused. “Do you remember the day I saved you from the dogs?” he finally asks.
“How could I forget?”
Red laughs lightly. “Well, you called me your hero that day, and it made me realize that the only reason I could even be your hero is because you were mine. You saved me from those dogs even though you didn’t have to.” Eijirou sighs, a small smile on his face. “You were young and small and fragile—”
“Hey!”
“What? You don’t have scales or anything to protect you!” Red teases. “You didn’t have any weapons or anything, and you risked your life for an animal that people used to hunt for sport.”
Hanta shrugs. “It was the right thing to do,” he says weakly.
Red shakes his head, his hair flopping about in an aggressively adorable way. “But not everyone would’ve done it! That’s what makes you my hero! That’s why I stayed.”
Hero…
Hanta thinks back to that day, to that moment. He never felt like a hero, he acted before thinking. It’s what any reasonable person would do, he thought.
All this time, he’s wanted to be a hero, and as he’s gotten older, he’s accepted that the profession has died out and he’ll end up working for his parents until he ends up running the herb shop himself. He never even considered that he already was someone’s hero.
A warmth spreads across his face and he ducks his head, pretending to mess with the blood on his arm.
“Why didn’t you do this earlier?” Hanta changes the topic before he can think too hard about the hero thing.
“Well, my mama told me not to trust humans,” Red begins slowly. “She died a little a few days before we met, actually. I think that’s one reason I got attached to you. Anyway, I know I sound like a coward, but I was scared. You’re really friendly and fun to be around and I didn’t want you to hate me for lying to you…”
A small, dejected, cloud of smoke puffs out of Red’s nostrils.
“Hey, I could never hate you,” Hanta says, nudging Red’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend!”
Eijirou snorts. “You still consider me your best friend after I spent years lying to you?”
“Well, yeah,” Hanta nods. “You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. You listened to me talk when you easily could’ve flown away, you played hero with me in the woods… plus, you know, like, all my secrets.”
And Hanta means all his secrets. He told Red everything. Thinking back on it, now, knowing that Red is a shifter… it’s actually kind of embarrassing.
Red seems to find Hanta’s internal suffering amusing and attempts to stifle his giggles, but he does a pretty poor job of it.
“Wait—what is your name?”? Hanta asks suddenly.
“Oh, yeah, my name,” Red says. “I forgot about that. I’m Kirishima Eijirou, but we’re close enough that you can just call me Eijirou! And your name—it’s pronounced Hanta, right?”
When Hanta nods, Red—no, Eijirou—says his name a couple of times. “It’s nice to finally say your name! Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you, Hanta! You’re so cool, so manly!”
“You wanna talk about manliness? How about that save?” Hanta laughs and then he stops because he’s just had another ground breaking, world changing, mind blowing revelation: “Eijirou, you saved me.”
“Yeah?”
Hanta shakes his head. He darts forward and grabs Eijirou’s shoulders. “You’ve saved me twice now and I haven’t thanked you!” He takes a deep breath then looks into Eijirou’s eyes. “Thank you. You’re my hero.”
“Aw, dude! That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me! What if we were both heroes one day? Together! Heroic Hanta and his noble steed!”
Hanta snorts. “You mean his Mighty Dragon? You’re more than a noble steed!”
Tears well up in Eijirou’s eyes, but they’re still so bright they must be happy tears. “Hanta, can I hug you?”
In lieu of answering, Hanta lets go of Eijirou’s shoulders and opens his arms.
Eijirou all but jumps into them, squeezing the hell out of him, but he’s so warm and comforting and after the biggest scareof his life, he feels so safe.
And then Eijirou starts nuzzling him and Hanta’s heart skips a beat. The stinging returns to his eyes, but he doesn’t want to have this breakdown now.
Because even though Eijirou lied (for valid reasons) and even though he almost died, he’s happy.
Now that Eijirou is older and bigger, he can’t keep living beneath Hanta’s bed. He sheepishly admits that he can’t really fit comfortably anymore, and he needs more meat than Hanta can get him during meals. He tells his parents a lie about running into a boy from another village in the forest whose parents died and has no where to go. They direct him to a man everyone calls Fat Gum who runs a tavern.
Eijirou and Fat Gum hit it off, and before Hanta knows it, Eijirou has scooped all his belongings out from under Hanta’s bed and is moved out.
The first few nights are lonely. Sometimes, on cold evenings, Eijirou would curl up beside Hanta and they’d share their warmth. It was a risk, but as long as Eijirou was under the covers, they wouldn’t get caught.
Despite the separation, they’re still best friends and hang out all the time. Hanta runs to meet Eijirou at the tavern every day before they run off to play, and once Eijirou is more acclimated to his new life, he starts waiting for Hanta outside of the school house.
Hanta is there when Eijirou needs a shoulder to cry on because he’s struggling to read. He’s there to cover for Eijirou when he needs to shift back into his dragon form to fly around for a bit and stays by his side the whole time. He’s there when Eijirou works up the courage to tell Fat Gum that’s a dragon shifter, holding his hand the entire time. It was a difficult decision for him, and Eijirou stressed out about it for at least a month before he decided to do it. And just like Hanta told Eijirou, Fat Gum didn’t care. In fact, he laughed heartily and said that he knew.
Even though Eijirou mostly stays in his human form now, it’s like nothing’s changed between them.
The bad thing, though, is now that their conversations aren’t one-sided, Hanta can’t help developing feelings for Eijirou. Like, romantic feelings.
They’ve probably been brewing for awhile, but he only really noticed when Eijirou, in human form, huffed when Hanta stole a piece of his meat at dinner, and smoke came out of his nostrils. It’s a pretty normal thing for him, but this time, when it happened, he was pouting, and all Hanta could think was, “cute”.
The thought confused and startled him so much that he stopped paying attention to his surroundings and Eijirou managed to steal a piece of his meat in retaliation, and Hanta just sat there and took it like a chump.
And then, like, a week later, Eijioru was recounting a story Fat Gum told him so animatedly that he ended up poking his lip with his extra pointy dragon teeth, and his confusion was so funny that Hanta nearly fell over laughing. And he thought, “Eijirou makes life better” before reigning in his laughter, only to see Eijirou’s deadpanned expression directed his way which made him laugh all over again.
And another time, Hanta snuck up behind Eijirou and scared him, and he was so startled that scales instinctively popped up to cover his neck.
And—and the more Hanta remembers these moments, more moments come to mind.
Every moment he spends with Eijirou is memorable because he’s with Eijirou. They could sit and do nothing but stare at a wall, and it’d be important because they’re together.
Eijirou brings light and laughter into his life. He did the same even when Hanta thought he was just a dragon. Eijirou is everything to Hanta, the most important person in his life. His rock, his stability, his biggest cheerleader.
Hanta considers saying something, but he just can’t tell how it would go down. Sure, Eijirou is super affectionate with him, but he’s affectionate with everyone! And he doesn’t want Eijirou to misinterpret what he’s saying because dragon customs are different or make him feel like he has to reciprocate his feelings…
Yeah, Hanta’s heart is a mess.
When they hang out, they spend their time hanging out in the woods or at Hanta’s house. Sometimes they hang around the tavern. But Eijirou gets weird whenever his place is mentioned and ends up changing the subject. And since it makes him uncomfortable, Hanta tries not to bring it up.
At first, he worries that he did something wrong, but Eijirou doesn’t act like he did, so it must just be in his head. Maybe dragons are super territorial over their space and since they don’t live in the same place anymore, Hanta isn’t allowed?
But one day, when they’re sixteen years old, Eijirou approaches him, body tense and muscles clenched, and asks, “Would you like to come over?”
Hanta blinks. “Are you sure?”
That must not be the right answer because Eijirou seems to shrink in response, shoulders hunching,
“Nonono!” Hanta cries, waving his hands. “I just meant, like, you seem to like having your own private space and I don’t want you to feel forced into letting me come over!”
Eijirou relaxes a bit. “But what if I want you there?”
He’s so earnest and eager and yet also a little shy that Hanta’s heart stutters and he needs a minute to recover. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have that time because Eijirou’s lips have faded into the most adorable pout.
“In that case, when are we going?”
Eijirou brightens up, releasing a happy chirp. He grabs Hanta’s hand and begins running with his inhumane speed towards the tavern.
Eijirou and Fat Gum live in the space above the tavern, so they weave in and out of customers on their way to the staircase. Fat Gum greets them with a wave and hearty, “Hello, boys!”, and nearly every customer they pass says hi to Eijirou.
“Okay,” Eijirou begins, taking a deep breath when they’re standing outside the door to his room, “the reason I was weird about my room is because my hoard is in there.”
Of course—that makes so much sense. He should’ve expected this! There are many different iterations of dragons in stories—the scary ones, the evil ones, the nice ones, the vengeful ones, greedy ones… most of them are wildly inaccurate and demonizing. The one common thread throughout all the stories is that a dragon’s hoard is everything to them.
They usually keep their hoard hidden or in some place they consider safe. Most rarely share their hoards with others. Well, unless they’re partners or mates or whatever, but maybe that part isn’t true because Hanta is just a friend.
Unfortunately.
Nope—no negativity right now, not when Eijirou is offering a part of his soul to Hanta. It’s time to be supportive, not time to pine.
Eijirou opens the door, nods for Hanta to follow.
His room is about what Hanta expected—full of life and color. There’s a nest by his bed, some clothes on the floor, and even a few books strewn about.
“It’s in here.” Eijirou gestures to a wooden cabinet with several drawers. It’s beautiful, crafted with the utmost care—probably made by Nishiya since he’s good friends with Fat Gum.
The perfect place for a hoard.
Eijirou releases a small stream of air, as if readying himself, then opens the bottom drawer.
The first thing he sees is an old, slightly tattered, small orange blanket. The one Hanta gave him.
Next, he sees the bear plushie Yamomo made him all those years ago, the very plushie Hanta gave Eijirou so he had a friend with him while Hanta was at school.
There’s a rock Hanta gave him as a joke—it’s spikey and reddish with hints of black. It reminded him of Eijirou.
One of Hanta’s childhood books to help Eijirou when Fat Gum taught him how to read.
The small necklace with a gemstone that Hanta spent two years saving for all because he thought Eijirou would like it.
Of course, a few things from Fat Gum and the guy who helps around the tavern—Tamaki, he thinks—were among the carefully constructed pile, as well as an unfamiliar piece of iron that Hanta can only assume is from Tetsutetsu, a friend Eijirou made. But the rest of it is all from Hanta.
“You kept all of that?” Hanta whispers.
Eijrou wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes. “Of course! A good hoard is composed of things you love and cherish. And since I can’t put you in it, everything you’ve ever given me is a good substitute.”
Both Hanta and Eijirou’s faces go red. That’s a pretty intimate thing to say. Like, super intimate. The romantic implications swirl around Hanta’s mind, drowning out the voice that tells him that there’s no way Eijirou would ever mean that. But he’s so earnest it’s hard not to believe that he might and his feelings may be reciprocated.
“Careful now,” Hanta laughs awkwardly, “or I may think you’re courting me.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, granted a joke forged by yearning, and it slips out without warning. But Eijirou’s face gets even redder and he even starts sprouting scales.
“Would you be upset if it was?” he asks, hastily releasing Hanta’s shoulders.
Oh.
He means it.
He means it.
Hanta’s palms start to sweat and his stomach starts to churn. He feels vaguely ill, like the anticipation and hope and excitement is too much to contain.
“I mean,” he coughs into his fist, “I wouldn’t mind, and maybe I’d ask if you’d be upset if I courted you.” Hanta bites the inside of his lip.
The embarrassment vanishes from Eijirou in a matter of seconds. “Really?” he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “So, if I started courting you, you would accept it and wouldn’t hate me or laugh at me or want to stop being my friend?”
Hanta laughs. “Ei, dude, I could never hate you. You’re, like, the most amazing guy in the world! I’d maybe ask if you’re sure you want me of all people but—”
He’s cut off as big arms wrap around him and squeeze so hard he’s briefly lifted off the floor. “You’re the amazing one!” Eijirou argues. “And I really really like you, and I have for awhile and I’d really like to date you!”
“Woah, Ei, can’t breathe!” Hanta wheezes, slapping Eijirou’s back until his grip loosens. Just loosens, though. Eijirou keeps his arms around him, like he doesn’t want to let go. “Well good news for you, because I also really really like you and have for awhile.”
A slew of happy chirps fills the air as Eijirou nuzzles his neck.
It’s so cute and so unbelievable, but Hanta supposes it’s not much more unbelievable than befriending a dragon, finding out that dragon is a shifter, and becoming best friends with him.
He’ll for sure overthink it later, but for now, he’s content to stay wrapped in Eijirou’s embrace, flush against his chest like he’s something important.
Years later, he’s all grown up, arms wrapped around Eijirou’s neck as he flies. Hanta loses his laugh in a rush of air, hair falling out of their loose bun and gently whipping his face.
In all his years of dragon riding, it never ceases to amaze him—the rush, the view, the sound of wind and Eijirou’s wings drowning out the world around him.
He tightens his knees around Eijirou, accustomed to the rough, leathery texture. Moments like these are when he’s happiest.
They’re on their way to meet their friends—a Barbarian prince, a Barbarian warrior, and a bard. Katsuki, the prince, got a letter about some smugglers and bandits in town and asked if they wanted to help deal with it—especially since they have their hands on some dragon scales.
Or maybe Katsuki just wanted to see Eijirou cause mass destruction, as he always does when even the smallest bit of poaching may be involved.
Never in his life did Hanta think the tiny dragon he saved from wild dogs would bring him here—a dragon rider who spends most of his time travelling and adventuring with his friends and boyfriend.
Out there on the road with Eijirou is where Hanta is happiest.