Chapter Text
King of Shadow
Shouto ran away, again. Only this time he might’ve gone too far.
His usual spot was an abandoned village in the Underworld where he could — with all his burning anger — finish destroying all that had been left behind. The scenery was always the same. Dull black roads, dying grey flora, deep red bricks, and a few blips of silver and gold.
This time, though, he found himself somewhere green. It was colorful and a warm breeze hit his hands. Grass grew tall reaching his knees, and there was an abundance of flowers as he had never seen before. Behind him, a tall, looming willow tree kept him in the shade, out of the sun.
In his mind, he cursed. Shouto had left the Underworld and was now trespassing. If he hadn’t been running away from his father, he would’ve felt bad for potentially causing him trouble. But he didn’t. Instead, he found he breathed easier and his heart slowed and his muscles relaxed. It made him ache to know that his future meant he would rule the Underworld, and he would spend his days overseeing sweltering hot lands, frozen, barren tundra, and the dead. But that was still far away and right now he was above wandering the fern fields and sienna earth.
For a moment, Shouto just stood in place, feeling the breeze on his arms, and wondering how nice it would feel on his face. The temptation alone made his hand twitch, and feeling safe and alone he moved to take off his mask.
He stopped when heard laughter. It was loud and boisterous and he heard the murmur of chatter following it. Shouto pressed his back to the tree and listened. His body was tense, scared that there would be consequences. The chatter continued, and it seemed to be coming from the other side of the tree.
Shouto gained the courage to peek around, and he felt his breath get caught in his throat.
There, a few feet away from the tree, was a young man. He was out in the sun, bunches of flowers in his hands, and he was laughing, talking away with a sheep of all things. He had curly hair and warm, sun-kissed skin. His cheeks were adorned with freckles, and there was pure joy in his eyes.
To Shouto, it seemed as if all time stopped, and in his head a melody of pure love played. Angelic and moving.
The young man wore loose clothing, and the sun hit him so perfectly that he looked more divine than any other god Shouto had seen before. And in that moment, many things became certain to Shouto.
This young man was beautiful. He was kind and heavenly. His laugh was music to Shouto’s ears. He needed to know his name.
Shouto tried to move, but fear kept him stuck behind the tree. He felt his right side heat up, and he turned back around, his back once again against the tree. Shouto practiced the breathing exercises his mother had taught him, and pressed the pressure points he had memorized. His father hated it when Shouto did that. It was disappointing when a god was fearful and anxious.
“Hello?” That melodic voice brought Shouto back from his mind and he realized the young man had made his way to Shouto’s side of the tree. Up close, his eyes were a jewel shade that Shouto knew was envied in the Underworld. Verdant and so kind, just looking at them made Shouto breathe easier. He still couldn’t speak, though.
“Oh! I’m sorry, did I frighten you?” The young man asked, looking guilty and taking a step back from Shouto.
“I just heard some shuffling and came to see if anyone was here. And well… here you are!” He smiled at Shouto, and behind him was the sheep he had been speaking to. It only stared at Shouto.
“Uh—” was all Shouto could get out, and he watched as the young man seemed to inspect him. His curious eyes scanned him from head to toe until his mouth formed a small o-shape.
“I know you!” He said, and Shouto was worried this would turn into a scold. He held his breath for the words he had heard many times. You’re not supposed to be here! You should be in the Underworld. Your father will not be happy to hear where you are.
“You’re the son of the Underworld King,” was how the man began, “Shouto.”
Hearing his name come from such a beautiful person made him weak in the knees. But he also felt guilty; he did not know the young man’s name.
“I’m sorry,” Shouto finally sputtered out, “I don’t know your name.”
The young man smiled and held out his hand, “I’m Izuku. My mother is Inko.”
At the mention of his mother’s name, Shouto connected many dots. The Goddess of Harvest. This was her son.
“Izuku,” Shouto murmured, etching his name to his memory.
“I hope you don’t mind me prying,” Izuku began, “but you are a long way from home. In fact, I don’t think you’re supposed to be here—”
Shouto tensed, but Izuku seemed to notice and quickly added, “Your secret is safe with me! I won’t tell. I’m just… curious. We rarely get visitors.”
“I was running away,” Shouto confessed, confused at his sudden honesty. He continued, “I took a new path… through a cave and I came out here. It was beautiful, so I stayed.”
Izuku nodded along to his words, “Why were you running away?”
Shouto thought of his father. His endless training, his endless disappointment, and pressure.
“I was unhappy,” Shouto said, followed by a deep sigh. “But I will return. I always do.”
Izuku took in his words, and Shouto watched all kinds of emotions flash in Izuku’s eyes. Then Izuku moved to his side, his back also pressed against the tree, and then he slid down. Shouto followed suit, it only felt natural, and now the two of them were sitting at the roots. The sheep, Izuku’s companion it seemed, moved to Izuku’s free side and lay down, snuggling closer to him.
“I’m sorry you felt like you had to run away. It must not be easy when your father is… A god, or King of the Underworld,” Izuku tried to comfort him, and it made Shouto feel lighter.
He smiled, and sighed again, “It is not.”
Silence settled between them for a moment. Shouto noticed how Izuku’s hands twitched to do something and they immediately moved to the bunches of flowers he had collected. And after a few more seconds, Izuku seemed to gather the courage to speak. It was simple chatter. How his morning had been, and how this was one of his favorite spots. Izuku talked briefly about his mother, how she worried about him so much. Then he told Shouto about all the flowers he had and where he had picked them. And Shouto just… listened. He was content to just listen, to sit with this man he had just met, and to feel the wind and smell the earth. It was like nothing he had ever felt or done before.
Hours seemed to pass, and in them, Shouto did end up speaking too. About his father and mother. His siblings. About his pastimes in the Underworld. How he was to rule after his father. How nervous he was. And because the universe seemed intent on forever inconveniencing him, Shouto felt the moment his father found out he had run away again. Shouto felt his anger and fury, and it was a different kind of burning. He sighed and stood up.
“I have to go back,” Shouto told Izuku. Izuku stood up quickly and grabbed his hand.
Izuku’s hands were soft and warm, and he looked at Shouto with hopeful eyes, “Will you visit again?”
Joy burst in his chest at the question, and his face flushed. Part of him was happy he still had his mask on and that Izuku had not made any comment on it. It was easier that way to hide how absolutely enamored Shouto already was.
Shouto nodded first, then quickly spoke, “Yes! Uh— yes. I will come again. As soon as I can.”
And though he could not kiss Izuku’s hand, he still held it and pressed it to his mask, where his forehead was.
“Goodbye,” Shouto said before making his way back.
Izuku smiled, “Goodbye!”
Mother’s Green Field
Shouto kept his word, much to Izuku’s joy, and returned to that emerald field and towering tree. Izuku was already sitting in the shade of the tree and with him was a basket filled with fruits, cheeses, meats, and bread.
“It’s you!” Izuku smiled at the sight of Shouto.
“It’s me,” Shouto replied, his ears burning at how happy Izuku looked.
“I was worried you wouldn’t come back,” Izuku confessed, reaching for Shouto’s hand, holding it so gently in his.
Shouto moved to the tree, tugging Izuku to sit down with him, “I was worried too, but I managed to find the time.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have to run away this time,” Izuku responded, and then sensing their greetings were over moved to a livelier conversation.
Like before they spent the following hours chatting, with the new addition of food. They laughed and teased. And at one point Shouto began to tell stories his mother had told him about the underworld to Izuku. And Izuku listened so intently, so enthralled by every word that came out of Shouto’s mouth.
At one point, they were back to calm silence, and Shouto could hear that melody again. The one that played in his mind when he had seen Izuku. Without thinking, he hummed it, liking how it sounded. He did it again.
“Are you making a song?” Izuku asked from his position, his head in Shouto’s lap.
Shouto paused, “I don’t think I know how to make music, but I can’t get this out of my head.”
“It sounds beautiful. I like it. You could dance to it.”
Shouto raised an eyebrow, “You think so?” Izuku hummed a response, and then feeling that it was not enough he moved to get up.
Izuku stretched and shook the dirt from his legs before extending out his hand to Shouto, “C’mon I’ll show you.”
Shouto took his hand and was pulled up, Izuku showing a great strength he hadn’t known about before. Izuku positioned both of them, one pair of hands touching, and the other outstretched. Then asked Shouto to hum his tune again. Nervously he did as told and watched as Izuku mumbled to himself. Izuku sang it slowly and began to move, showing Shouto the steps. However Shouto was not well-versed in dance and to his horror he seemed great at stepping on Izuku’s toes. This didn’t deter Izuku who only laughed and assured Shouto he was fine.
“See! It’s perfect for a simple dance,” Izuku explained, the melody falling from his lips as he continued to lead Shouto. Shouto beamed, his heart fluttered and he couldn’t help but let a couple of giggles escape him too.
Izuku looked at him and a tint of red spread across his cheeks, “I know this is silly—”
Shouto shook his head, “No, this is wonderful. You create things so easily. It’s admirable, I quite enjoy it.”
“Yeah, well you made the music, even if it’s just one small piece. Who knows it might become a song in the future.”
Izuku then surprised Shouto, pulling away to spin him. It would’ve worked if Izuku weren't a couple of inches shorter than him and if Shouto were a little less clumsy. But a small fall onto the grass couldn’t dampen the giddy mood and endearing looks they shared. Their hands stayed intertwined as they lay in the grass, not worried about getting up anytime soon.
They continued their time together until the sun began to set, and Shouto felt that same feeling in his stomach that he was being searched for. And though it pained him to leave, he once again promised Izuku he would return.
And Shouto kept his word. Again. And again. And again.
They would meet, talk, eat, dance, and rest. Over and over again.
Until, one day, when the two sat in silence, Shouto watched as Izuku meddled with the flowers he had picked, using their stems to tie them together. Izuku made wreaths of all sizes and shapes, and when he had finished he turned to Shouto.
“I made you a crown,” Izuku told him, showing off his detailed work. Bright red poppies and pale blue crocuses intertwined together to form a thick circlet. “It might not go over your mask but it’s still for you!”
Shouto tensed at the mention of his mask. Not that anything Izuku had said was bad, just that his mask was a source of shame for Shouto. They had been seeing each other for months now and he had yet to remove his mask. A part of him was worried about Izuku's reaction, worried it would change things. However, at that moment, something stirred within him. He felt safe and comfortable. And he realized the last thing he wanted to be in front of Izuku was ashamed.
Shouto coughed and cleared his throat, “I – uh – can take it off.”
“Oh! Only if you feel comfortable with it,” Izuku reassured, “I promise this isn’t some ploy to get it off” his hands grabbed Shouto’s and he rubbed them, trying to comfort him. And for a moment Shouto was unsure of what to do.
Izuku spoke up, “Though I’ll admit… I’m curious why you always have it on. I hadn’t heard of anyone wearing a mask in the Underworld.”
Shouto swallowed the lump in his throat, and Izuku looked down to their intertwined hands, “Shouto, you’re trembling.”
“I’m fine,” Shouto tried to calm his nerves, “It’s just… a lot.”
And then he moved to take off his mask.
“Shouto,” Izuku said, stopping his hands mid-air, “You don’t have to. I care more about you than whatever I may want to see.”
Shouto thought about Izuku's words for a moment, and he knew what it was he wanted to do.
“I want to take it off,” Shouto told him. Izuku nodded and sat back, allowing Shouto to have all the control.
Once Shouto’s hands touched the mask, he felt the sudden rush to take it off and destroy it. To never wear it again, never see it again. Shouto paused to take one last deep breath before he untied the ribbon from the back and pulled it away from his face.
The truth of it all, of his mask, was that Shouto’s face was scarred. Over his left eye was the reminder that Shouto’s family was— not perfect. That his face had caused his mother such misery, she had hurt him. And it saddened him just seeing it; he couldn’t bear to show such proof of his failure to anyone else. Especially not the people he would rule. His father hadn’t cared much for his wound. It worried him, scared his heir had been ruined. But when Shouto recovered and he still had his magic and divinity, his father acted as if it had just been a scraped knee. And though others were directed to view it as such, Shouto couldn’t ignore the looks of pity and disappointment.
But Izuku wasn’t everyone else. Izuku didn’t look at him with sadness. He didn’t bow his head and avert his gaze. No, Izuku looked at Shouto intensely. He paid attention to everything he said. Izuku asked questions and always had something to say. He loved the odd difference in temperatures of Shouto’s hands, always wanting to hold them and trace shapes and words into his palms.
Even so, hearing the slight shift in Izuku’s breath as Shouto took off his mask, he was filled with some fear.
Meanwhile Izuku, well… the young man found that he was at a loss for words. He felt his cheeks flush red and felt his heart skip a beat.
Shouto was breathtaking. Izuku was mesmerized by the man, as he took in every detail he could, now scared of the mask and how much it hid.
Shouto had tousled hair, whose tips reached his eyebrows and it was two different colors. Shouto’s left was a deep red, and his right a pristine white. Izuku had never seen such a thing in a person before. Nature proved marvelous whenever a flower came out in two colors, and it only made Shouto all the more beautiful to Izuku. And when their eyes met, Izuku was met with that asymmetry again. His right eye was a stormy grey, his left a bright azure. A stark contrast that made it almost impossible for Izuku to look away. His face was still the slightest bit round, as he was still young, but Izuku could note the parts that were beginning to slim and set. Shouto’s nose had a bump before straightening out and there was a small freckle on his neck, near the hem of his shirt. He was handsome. Izuku thought he was beautiful, his features charming, and suited just for him.
Then Izuku caught Shouto’s scar. Around his left eye, the damaged, textured skin was a soft maroon. It covered the top left of his face, small patches escaping towards his cheeks. Izuku was confused, his brows furrowing. He kept quiet, which was unusual for a man who always had something to say, even if it was just to himself.
Shouto panicked, fearing Izuku was disappointed, perhaps even disgusted and he apologized.
“I’m sorry,” Shouto said in a strained effort and he quickly moved to put the mask back on.
Izuku stopped him, “No! Wait… I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just–”
“I’m unsightly,” Todoroki interrupted, “It is not your fault, my scar–”
“What?!” Izuku interrupted, “No, never– You’re– Shouto, no. You are not unsightly!” Izuku moved closer to Shouto, their knees touching, and Izuku grabbed him by the shoulders.
Izuku searched Shouto’s eyes, but Shouto averted his gaze.
“Oh, Shouto, please look at me…” Izuku begged. Shouto couldn’t help but obey.
“You are like no one I’ve ever seen before. You’re– you took my breath away, and you’re– I can’t even put into words how beautiful you are, how stunning– you took my words Shouto– do you know how you make me feel?”
Shouto took a moment to think, but all he could think of was how Izuku made him feel. He shook his head, nervous.
“Shouto,” Izuku whispered, “You make me feel overjoyed. I only think of seeing you again, of hearing you speak, and being able to respond. When we are not together, I think of everything I could be telling you. Of everything we could be doing. Of going home with you and seeing everything you’ve known all your life and being there with you, because– you feel like home to me, and when I’m with you I feel like a flower in the sun, like the breeze through the leaves, like the sprinkle of water after a thunderstorm… Shouto…” Izuku stopped to breathe and then he looked lost in thought. Shouto feared he may have broken, but then a giggle escaped Izuku. Then came a laugh, and his eyes squinted as he doubled over.
“Wh-whats wrong?” Shouto asked; he felt lightheaded at what was essentially a poem Izuku had recited. He could barely think, his heart pounding so loud he could feel it in every inch of his body.
When Izuku looked at him again, there were tears in his eyes, and Izuku shook his head, his smile somehow bigger than before, “Nothing's wrong, Shouto! I just realized something… I think I love you.”
Shouto inhaled sharply, and seeing how confident and sure Izuku looked and sounded, there was no doubt in his mind that Izuku was being honest. And it dug a seed in Shouto’s heart. A seed of something full, of something safe, and of something new. A new path forward, a new future filled with something Shouto had been missing all his life until now. He had to feed it, water it, care for it, and secure it.
“I love you too, so much. So much it consumes me,” Shouto responded, unable to say anything else without the risk of bursting into tears. Shouto then leaned closer, his arms wrapping around Izuku, pulling him in– and suddenly there was still that little bit of doubt that came in. Izuku had told him he thinks he loves him. It should’ve been nothing, but Shouto couldn’t help but want to squander that doubt, so he asked, “Do you mean it? ”
Izuku nodded, his hair tickling Shouto’s forehead, and Izuku leaned in more until their noses were touching, “With all my heart, Shouto. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Then Izuku kissed him, ridding them of any space between them.
Where The Sun Never Shone
They didn’t mean to worry anyone. It was meant to be a small trip, just three days. Izuku had told his mother he would be gone for that amount of time. But when Shouto was the future king of the Underworld, his reputation was less than glamorous. Even among gods, prejudice was well and alive.
Now, the only thing they were truly at fault for was those few three days turning into… three weeks. Shouto wanted to show Izuku the Underworld. For all its gloom and darkness, there was a lot of beauty to it.
Shouto particularly liked Elysium. Its bright golden hue and the consistent humming were a huge comfort to him. And the rivers, despite their burdens, were pretty to sit by. It was certainly an acquired taste, but Izuku seemed to specialize in that. And every place Shouto showed him brought a special gleam to his eyes. He loved exploring, seeing every inch, and learning everything Shouto knew about. And he especially loved any stories Shouto had about his own experiences in each place.
When they had finished touring every place, Shouto showed him the small cottage he had secretly built, just for them. It sat in the middle of a misty, gray forest, and inside it was an explosion of color. Shouto had been bringing back flora from above to fill in the home.
“I know we don’t have much greenery down here, and I know how much you love it. I wanted it to feel a bit like home for when you visit. I-if you want to come again, that is,” Shouto explained to him.
Izuku was already smiling looking at the place, and his hand squeezed Shouto’s, “It’s perfect.”
And that was all Shouto needed to hear.
Because it was so perfect, they ended up losing track of time. Each day they stayed in the cottage, catching up on time they felt they lost together, with the occasional trip out into the forest just to see the curious underworld flora and fauna, or to catch sight of Elysium in the distance. At night they would climb into bed and talk about their future and what that would entail.
Shouto had his future laid out before him. He had a duty he could not ignore, at risk of the balance of the Gods and the world. Izuku, however, was not as weighed down. His domain was an extension of his mother's, and the more he thought about it the more he hoped it would be all right to leave it behind. Surely his mother had considered he would find someone and leave her nest. At least he hoped really hard that was the case.
It wasn’t until one day when they were outside — sitting and sharing a tray of soft cheeses, strawberries, and pomegranate — that a familiar creature ran up to them.
“Is that a dog?” Izuku asked, holding Shouto's arm. Shouto knew what was happening immediately, but he also couldn’t help but greet Cerberus with a sweet smile.
The three-headed dog shrank in size as he reached the couple, and he bounded up to Shouto jumping on him and licking his face with each of his heads.
“Woah, boy!” Shouto laughed, giving him the pets he desperately desired. Cerberus, ever the attentive guard of the Underworld, was at his core still a dog. Meaning he loved and cared for his family, and since Shouto was young he felt a deep connection to him.
However, he knew Cerberus would not be here if he had not been sent.
“My father is looking for me,” Shouto explained, and he reached out a hand to Izuku pulling him closer to Cerberus.
Cerberus, eager to sniff this new person, immediately began to investigate Izuku. And Izuku, quite fond of animals, happily let him do it, returning the favor with scratches behind his ears and under his chins.
“I can take you back before I go see him,” Shouto said. Izuku sighed, not wanting to leave his lover, but before he could protest, Cerberus whined.
His head bowed and then they all looked at Shouto, communicating with the prince. Shouto frowned, “I think you must come with me, Cerberus tells me your mother is here too.”
Izuku groaned, now aware of the trouble the two were in, “Oh no.”
Not One Flower
The room was quiet and dense. The air was heavy with mumbled words and an occasional loud thump.
Izuku sat next to Shouto, their hands intertwined, their bodies pressed tightly together, and their heartbeats racing fast. They were waiting for their parents to return from the office.
When they arrived, Shouto’s father had not wasted any time yelling at his son. For his disappearance, which they learned had been much longer than three days. For his recklessness, claims had been made that Shouto had kidnapped Izuku. For his carelessness, no matter how they spun it, Izuku was compromised in any way that mattered.
While Enji had let out all his anger on his son, Inko had only wept. Her eyes, already watering from worry, had only flown freely when she finally saw her son again. She had checked every inch of his body, had whispered questions to him, asking if he was alright. Izuku responded that he was. That he was okay, that he was happy, and that there was much to discuss. That he was sorry for not telling her sooner, that it was complicated. Inko kissed her son plenty, and allowed him to sit her down and explain everything.
When both parents were done, they realized their sons were in love.
Enji had a look of disgust.
Inko had a look of worry.
“You must wed,” Enji snapped.
Inko was taken aback, “I do not think that is so easily decided, Enji.”
“You have heard the rumors, Inko. Your own people have told you what they saw.”“My son will not be forced to marry yours just because people are talking.”
“Mom,” Izuku said, “What are they saying?”
Inko looked back, her brows furrowed in worry, “They say the young Prince kidnapped you. Forced you to leave our home. That he was… careless. That you’re here against your will.”
“What?! That is far from the truth!” Izuku exclaimed, stepping forward.
“We met,” Izuku’s voice softened, and then he turned to look at Shouto, “and we fell in love.”
“I love him, and I am here because I want to be here,” Izuku said. Inko looked at her son, and her hand moved to cup his cheeks. Many things were battling inside her, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was all a trick.
Enji was not known for his truthfulness or kindness. And his son… little was known except that he was to be his heir. It just didn’t sit right with her, that Izuku hadn’t said anything before. She had to find out after her son went missing for weeks. But her son's eyes stared at her, begging her to believe him. He was still young. Still unaware of the world outside their fields. Inko decided to be a mother first.
“My sweet boy,” Inko whispered, “I will fix this. I promise.”
And then she looked over to Enji, they spoke in silence and the two withdrew to Enji’s office.
Thirty minutes after they had left, they returned. Enji with a look of annoyance, and Inko with a look of quiet defeat.
“Do you wish to marry Prince Shouto?” Inko asked, though she only looked at Izuku who looked back to Shouto.
Shouto swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to be with Izuku, but he was scared of forcing Izuku to make a decision he might not be ready for. “Whatever you decide will not change how I feel,” was all he could muster, giving Izuku’s hand a squeeze, “Whatever happens I will be with you, even if they will only be visits.”
Izuku stared into Shouto’s eyes, and they were watering. Izuku had known his answer for days now, he had thought about everything, and he had made his decision.
“I do,” Izuku responded to his mother, “more than anything.”
Inko didn’t seem pleased about the answer, but she placed her faith in how happy Izuku looked just saying yes.
“Then you shall be married,” Enji interjected, “Soon. Next week at the latest. Izuku will come live with us.”
Shouto nodded, and Izuku squeezed his hand. They shared another look, it was more hopeful than the last. They couldn’t jump or cry of joy in front of their parents, but this look was enough for them.
“On one condition,” Inko brought them back from their world, “Izuku will return to me for half of the year. ”
“What?!” Izuku and Shouto said in unison.
Enji explained, “That is the agreement Inko and I have settled on. Izuku is still a god. You still have duties and responsibilities above.”
“Without you there the trees have withered, and the plants have died. A great cold, one we have never seen before, has come and it has made lands barren. It has wrought grief and famine. It has changed things. This–” Inko gestured towards the two young lovers, “has changed things. So if you wish to marry him, you must return to bring back the sun and life. If you stay here all year long, civilization will crumble by the thousands. We cannot be so selfish and reckless as to allow that.”
Shouto watched Izuku then. He feared Izuku would change his mind just by hearing how much his disappearance affected the world above. Shouto couldn’t blame him if he did. What did the Underworld have to offer a young god of nature? Death and coldness. What did Shouto have to offer him? An unknown place far away from everything Izuku has ever known. How could a young god whose whole purpose was to breathe life into the world around him allow for it all to disappear because he fell in love? Shouto knew Izuku, and he just couldn’t.
Shouto waited in defeat for Izuku to change his mind, to tell his mother that he would go back home and not marry him. That he had been foolish and selfish. Shouto glanced at his father, who only smiled. He was thinking the same things as Shouto, only he was glad that he could be rid of Izuku, that Shouto would be just as he was before, lonely and malleable.
“If that is the condition you set, I will still marry him,” Izuku said, standing up, his hands balled up in a fist. Izuku could see the disappointment in Inko’s eyes. She had hoped her speech would have convinced Izuku to leave this all behind, but he couldn’t. Not Shouto. Never Shouto. Izuku loved Shouto. That love breathed life into him, and without it Izuku would most certainly die. And if the choices were forever without him or every other six months without him, the decision was easy to make.
They were wed the following week.
Half of Each Year
The first six months with Shouto were pure bliss to Izuku. He had come to love and appreciate the Underworld and how different it was from his previous home. Izuku saw the value in it, and he knew that much of their reputation came from the dreary first impression of the place (and much of Enji’s behavior). Izuku also met the rest of Shouto’s family.
His sister, Fuyumi, his brother, Natsuo, and his mother, Rei, though she was confined to her room after an accident Izuku knew well about. Shouto also told him about Touya, his oldest brother, who had died. Death was not impossible for divinity, yet each time Izuku heard a tale of it, it sent shivers down his spine. Though Shouto could not introduce them, he showed Izuku a picture of Touya. He had been so young.
Izuku enjoyed cooking with Fuyumi, though he observed more than doing any actual cooking. With Natsuo, Izuku learned all about his healing concoctions and skills. Natsuo even taught Izuku some of the recipes and procedures, and, whenever she was feeling well enough, Izuku would also visit Rei. He would read to her or tell her stories about the world above, which she appreciated most, and when she was feeling beyond well, she would tell Izuku stories of Shouto’s youth – the happier ones.
And then there was all the time he spent with Shouto.
Mornings were Izuku’s favorite. Neither of them was an early bird, but Izuku always woke up minutes before Shouto. Minutes that he used just to look at him. Izuku would trace his face, run his hands through his hair, and just memorize all he could about his husband. Husband. That was Izuku’s favorite word. And he never grew tired of just saying it, calling Shouto his husband. Whenever he wanted to see Shouto blush or grow bashful, it only took him one word.
When they weren’t in the confines of their room, they were out exploring, learning. Oftentimes, Cerberus joined them on their adventures. He loved Izuku’s pets and eagerness to run off to see anything and everything. And though Shouto and Izuku didn’t know it, the Dead of the Underworld felt a little bit of hope when they found one of Izuku’s flowers (which popped up occasionally from the paths he walked).
All these good things, however, also came with not-so-good things. As heir, there were many duties and responsibilities Shouto had to complete, and lots of them trickled over to Izuku now that he was his husband. That time tended to be a touch more serious. Shouto focused on the rules of the land and shouldered the weight and burden of the dead. Izuku’s job turned out to be more for appearances than any actual change or power he would have over the Underworld. Still, he tried to help wherever he could.
With time, Izuku realized that Enji didn’t like him. This did not bother him; after all, Izuku did not like Enji either. It did make it harder for Izuku to get a word in or have any advice of his be considered seriously. But the disrespect was nothing compared to what Shouto endured, and so Izuku kept his head held high.
After all, there was still every other moment he had with Shouto. Nights and mornings. Picnics and walks. The rare opportunities when Shouto would take him back above, to that same tree. There, they hummed the same tune and danced. They ate the same snacks and talked with the same enthusiasm. Izuku felt so full and content that it didn’t dawn on him that it would end.
Until he felt it, deep in his chest, one morning. A small warmth, a tug at his heart. It was his mother. She was calling him. His time was up.
The Other Half
The second six months without Izuku were pure agony to Shouto. He got used to having Izuku around, sleeping, and rising with him. Meals with him, walks, and picnics. Meetings were more bearable with him. Now, it was just as it was before. Miserable and lonely. Only this time, he was aware of it. He was so painfully aware that he was alone and missing someone. Shouto was missing Izuku, and that pain tugged at his heart every second of every day.
And his father seemed to revel in Shouto’s pain. Enji made it no secret what he thought of Izuku—a weak minor god of weeds and vermin, a mama’s boy, a distraction, a liability.
With him gone, Shouto felt a deep hollow pain in his chest, and it made breathing hard for the god. He tried to keep onto that tiny sliver of hope, that time would go by fast, and eventually he would see Izuku again.
Shouto was forced to spend more time with his father. Shadowing him in all his duties, watching and learning. The underworld was a busy place, and it needed to have order for it to run smoothly. His father made it his sole goal to prepare Shouto for the job, ignoring how not long ago he had been preparing his firstborn instead. One obstacle and mistake, and it didn’t take long before Shouto was born to replace him. He didn’t like thinking about that. About his purpose.
In those sparse days when Enji wasn’t demanding Shouto’s time and attention, he would visit the cottage. Izuku’s scent lingered, but each time he came, it was fainter. Shouto would spend some time there, Cerberus sleeping in the bed (he missed Izuku, too) while he read some of the books Izuku left and tended to his plants. Afterwards, he would visit Rei. He would update her on what he was learning, leaving out the bad. And because he knew she missed it, he would read to her just like Izuku did. Some days, he would risk an embrace, which was far and few in between without his husband there. When his mother returned it, he would feel young again, childish and small. Those were nice moments that made the loneliness a bit more bearable.
Those blips of happiness, no matter how small, kept Shouto going. And he would be lying if he didn’t acknowledge that there was a sense of pride building inside him for his home. Death was terrifying, and his father was a prime example of how it could be, but it could be kind and gentle, like his mother’s hug, or Fuyumi’s cooking, or Natsuo’s concoctions, or… it could be kind. This was something often forgotten, and as he sat and learned about leading, he hoped that when it was his turn, he could remind everyone of that tenderness.
Nearing the end of those six months, Enji approached Shouto, who stared out of a window, watching the arrivals from the river.
“Shouto,” Enji called, though Shouto did not attempt to face him, just kept staring ahead.
“A simple nod of the head would be enough, son,” Enji continued, now standing beside him. His arms are behind his back, and waiting for Shouto to finally acknowledge him.
“Izuku wanted to be down there,” Shouto started, and he felt his father sag with annoyance, “Said it might be easier for souls to have a friendly face.”
“And Charon is not friendly enough? Seems unwise to critique the ferryman of the Underworld.”
“That’s not what he meant,” Shouto defends him, “He lives up there. He knows them when they are flesh and feeling. Izuku loves them; he wants them to be comfortable and at peace. We should listen to him.”
“My job isn’t to keep the souls of the dead comfortable, Shouto. It is to oversee where they end up and make sure they don’t leave.”
“Well, maybe that should be our job. Just because you were told to do it one way doesn’t mean it’s the correct way.”
“This is why I told Inko the marriage was unwise–”
“What?”
“All these ideas in your head. Wanting to change the Underworld when it works as it is, it’s all those foolish boys' ideas. I was hoping you’d be stronger, stand your ground, but you’re letting him get into your head.”
“He’s not in my head. I’ve been thinking this for a while now. They are afraid of us–”
“As they should be–”
“No, father. They shouldn’t be. Not those who were simple men and women above. We are the last place they will be in. Who wants to spend the rest of their time roaming aimlessly in foggy meadows, enduring the blazing heat or cold?”
“That’s enough of that, Shouto. We were dealt this hand, and so we will continue to take care of it as we have been doing for the past thousands of years. One young, weak god of plants is not going to change anything. The gods know he will leave sooner or later,” Enji spoke, his voice angry and annoyed. Shouto felt a pang of hurt at the last statement.
“H-he wouldn’t,” Shouto stuttered, “He wouldn’t leave.”
“Well, he does already, does he not?” Enji threw out, “The gods above do not understand this place. You’ve seen him, Shouto; he is pure life and energy. He will tire of this place and what it offers. They all do. Whatever affection he has for you, it will not survive the harsh weather down here. This is not where he is meant to be. You are not enough to keep him down here.”
Shouto felt a panic rise inside him, the words striking the worries he had long buried. He wanted to argue because Izuku had chosen to stay. He would rather be with Shouto for only six months instead of never. But Shouto had also seen the devastation that came from the winter when Izuku was down here. Saw the harsh snowfalls, the fallen leaves, and the trees. The influx of souls… not able to withstand the season. He knew how much that hurt Izuku, how it made him worry over his mother and their world. With time, that could weigh on him, as could other things. Shouto thought of his mother and her own fate as an overworld nymph married to the king of the underworld. In the end, Shouto wouldn't say it aloud, but he felt his mind agree with his father.
He was not enough to keep Izuku down here. How could he be?
Enji watched his son, noticed his silence, and the trembling in his hands. He had struck a nerve. The correct one. He smiled and turned to leave.
“He will come back!” Shouto raised his voice just as his father opened the door.
“As he promised,” Enji agreed. He dared one more look at Shouto to see the blow, “but soon it will be like pulling teeth.”
He closed the door, and Shouto was alone once more.
The Cycle
Izuku came back, as he had promised. He showed up by the river, heralded by Charon, and when he saw Shouto, he ran into his arms, showering him with kisses and burying his face in the curve of his neck.
"Shouto," Izuku exhaled, "I missed you." Around them, from the cold, dark ground, small dandelions sprang each time Izuku squeezed his husband.
Shouto hugged him back tightly, whispering, "I missed you too, more than anything."
Izuku pulled back, starry-eyed as he took in Shouto, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny, and touching him, almost as if he couldn't believe he was real.
"I love you," was all Izuku could say before burying himself again into their embrace, exhaling deeply,wanting to carry his scent with him forever.
This simple, passionate reunion soothed away the loneliness and sadness that the past six months had festered in him, and Shouto couldn't even remember what he had been so pressed about. Not when his one love was right there in his arms again.
"I love you too," he finally responded, having taken his time to also admire his husband. He tugged slightly, prompting Izuku to start walking with him, "Fuyumi made you your favorites, and Mom is feeling well enough to join us. You'll have to tell us everything that you did up there."
Izuku brightened with joy, and intertwined their arms together, pulling them closer as they walked. Shouto felt his heart lighten, felt his worries dissipate, and bliss began to overtake him again. All was well again.
But this arrangement was a cycle, and like before, six months passed, and Izuku had to leave again.
And another six months without Izuku were as before: long, filled with ardent yearning, and a brutal father.
Then light again. Warmth, a cool breeze, and green thumbs.
Only for the dark to take over one more. Anger, resignation, and poisonous words.
This cycle was maddening despite the good months, and Shouto really held onto the good months. For years, they were an anchor, and they helped that other half be more bearable.
And then things began to change. Fuyumi and Natsuo left. Found their own paths, their own families not bound to the underworld. And his dear mother's strength finally seeped out and, as nymphs are wont to do, she returned to her brisk rivers and frosty mountains.
"I hate to leave you like this," Izuku murmured in their embrace, his eyes already spilling with tears, his lips trembling. Shouto knew he didn't look much better, his eyelids heavy and red, his body slim, and a constant sniffle that he couldn't quite be rid of. It made him feel childish, but he supposed that was natural when losing a parent.
"I don't want you to go," Shouto spoke honestly, his arms tightened, "It's just him now."
Izuku pulled away and looked up at him. He seemed to think for a moment, "Maybe I can stay for a bit longer? Just to let things settle. My mom can… handle it for a bit more without me." He smiled warily, not quite believing his own words but wanting nothing more than to stay with his husband.
Shouto prayed to have the strength to say no. To let him leave without worrying about him, just as the agreement dictated. But oh, how he loved him. He loved him so much, and right now— Shouto needed him. So he decided to be selfish, despite the twinge of guilt that he felt when he said— no begged, "Please, please stay with me."
And Izuku did. He stayed. His wonderful, kind, beautiful lover stayed and it helped him. And Izuku's departure would've been easier if not for Inko coming down to the underworld herself, angry and devastated.
"You can't just change the timeline, Izuku," she explained, "winter has been harsh, and we were expecting the sun to come back as usual, but you— you were meant to bring it back into tune, Izuku— without you there was devastation we weren't prepared for. You had to have seen it, didn't you?"
And they had seen it. A new gathering of souls at the river, their deaths caused by the weather and starvation, untouched by Izuku's spring. They both had ignored it, though Shouto knew it had to weigh heavily on Izuku's heart. Even more so now that his mother had reminded him of it.
"Mother, I know," Izuku said, unable to look her in the eyes, "but I also had to stay here. Rei is gone."
"I know," she cut him off, "I know. It is painful, and it is tragic, but we are gods. We cannot afford to hurt our people even more just because we are grieving. Imagine their loss with this change—"
"They are inferior to us," Shouto suddenly cuts her off, angry at the dismissal of his loss, "We cannot forget that. And I will not treat them like their pain is more important than ours. I know they have lost, but I have too, and right now I do not think of them just as they do not think of my mother, of my grief"
"Shouto!" Izuku responded, shocked. Beside him, Inko only glared, "This is the problem with you, your father, and frankly, many other gods."
"Mom!"
It wasn't rare for many of the gods to be so careless and unforgiving towards humans. The difference between them in strength, cunning, and beauty was vast, except for the one in a million that appears every hundred years or so. Those gods who extended their protection and care were often those who dealt with them directly. Shouto knows that's the case for Inko and Izuku, but hearing it thrown back into his face, like it was such a detestable thing— like it was wrong of him to want his husband with him—
"You only care about yourself and what you gain from your father's power—"
"I do not—"
"Mom—"
"I care about my mother, my sister, and my brothers, most of all, I care about Izuku— I love him. I married him. I did not marry thousands of insignificant pieces of flesh," Shouto ignored how Izuku tugged at his arm and said his name, as if scared, almost distraught with what he was saying, and instead continued spouting what he knew is his heart was true.
"They are not where my priorities land— Izuku is. He is what is most dear to me, what I love most, and he made a promise to me —"
"You are not the only one he made promises to, Shouto. Six months a year, he returns because, unlike you, he cares for those pieces of flesh as you call them. And he will keep that promise because that's who he is, even if his husband has his misguided ideas. Now, I will not continue to argue with you. Let's go, Izuku." Inko turned and took a couple steps before she dissipated, and a cold air was left in her wake.
Shouto's fist clenched at his side, and he looked at Izuku, who seemed achingly confused and worried at what had just occurred. Izuku's eyes met Shouto's, and he knew that he had crossed some kind of line in arguing with his mother.
"Izuku—" but Izuku raised his hand and shook his head, not wanting Shouto to continue.
"I will be back," Izuku softly said, "We will have to talk about what just happened."
"I know," Shouto exhaled, now more aware that he had been rude and perhaps bratty.
Izuku sighed and moved to follow his mother. Shouto felt his heart drumming fast in his heart. Izuku was leaving, just like that. He watched as Izuku stopped and just stood there, as if thinking. But it wasn't for long. Shouto wanted to reach out to him, call his name, maybe apologize, but just like his mother, Izuku was gone in seconds. No goodbye. No kiss. No hug. Not even one last look at him.
For the first time, the cold that settled bothered him.