Chapter Text
“Just a bit farther,” Izuku murmurs as he treks over a fallen log, traveling deeper into the forest. It’s hot, beads of sweat dripping down his neck and pooling between his shoulderblades, but at least the temperature isn’t sweltering thanks to the thick canopy of trees. He adjusts the pack slung over his shoulder, making sure it’s secure. Considering he’s a cartographer, he’d be in rather sad shape if he misplaced his tools required for exploring and mapmaking – the purpose of this journey.
The western area – Izuku glances down to examine the compass in his hand before stuffing it into his pocket – approximately a kilometer or so ahead marks the farthest this region has been mapped. According to his research, it’s rumored to be relatively unexplored and supposedly hazardous, full of pitfalls, rough terrain, and possibly an active volcano. Few have been brave enough to tackle the land, even fewer having recorded anything viable within the last fifty years. Any others who reportedly embarked on this endeavor were never seen again.
But he isn’t afraid. After all, he’s prepared for this for years. It’s been his dream to explore and record this mysterious region since childhood, the tales spun by his late grandfather – also a cartographer – igniting his imagination. Izuku studied map after map, determined gaze pouring over every detail. There isn’t much he cannot make an edible meal out of and he can hold his own with a sword.
Nothing’s going to stand in his way.
Smiling, he approaches the new territory with observant eyes, his feet only centimeters from leaving the shelter of the trees. Up ahead, green grass gives way to dark clay, jagged rocks rising toward the heavens on either side in various formations. Steam plumes and swirls from cracks in the earth, the temperature spiking. Sunlight beams onto freckled skin, not a single cloud to be found in the sky. Izuku retrieves a spyglass from his pack to peer into the distance, giddy that beyond the wide expanse of sediment is what appears to be a mountain range. How exciting!
Boom.
Izuku’s neck rapidly twists, searching for the source of the noise.
Boom. Boom.
Collapsing the spyglass, he gazes overhead, identifying nothing unusual. A swift turn reveals the pathway behind him is also deserted. What could be-
His train of thought is taken by the throat upon witnessing one of the most interesting things he’s ever seen. Out of nowhere, a figure appears on his left, traveling fast. All he’s able to decipher is a head of blond hair and a crimson cape billowing in the wind.
Did…did a man with fire hands just fly into the forest?!
Interest piqued, Izuku blinks once, twice, and then pivots on his heel in immediate search of whatever that was, no matter the fact he should be traveling forward.
One palm grips the handle of his sheathed sword, cautious, while his other is prepared to react to danger at a moment’s notice. Quietly maneuvering through the dense wood, Izuku follows explosive sounds until tranquility returns, only the occasional rustle of leaves or whistle of birdsong finding his ears. Did the man already travel out of range?
A sigh hunches his shoulders. He’s preparing to head back when the sharp snap of a twig fractures silence. Freezing, emerald irises survey his surroundings, widening when finally pinpointing the man who must’ve been airborne.
He’s pretty – incredibly beautiful, if Izuku’s being honest. It’d be nothing to stare at him all day.
Perhaps a native to this region, the blond man’s attire is tribal. His bold cloak is lined with white fur. Armored gauntlets stained orange cover his forearms. Multiple necklaces fashioned from vibrant beads and painted teeth hang around his neck.
Izuku considers announcing his presence, calling out to see if they share a language…yet the chance of the stranger fleeing skyrockets and he decides to keep his big mouth shut. Silently, carefully, he shrugs off his pack, crouching down into the bushes to avoid detection. Nimble fingers work until everything he needs is withdrawn without a peep, and in the next breath, Izuku begins sketching.
He watches, rapt, as the man drinks river water from cupped hands, washes his face, and remains crouched to eat some type of dried meat. Whoever this shirtless stranger is, he’s muscular, flaunting a physique chiseled from stone. Wild, blond hair sticks up in various directions, defying gravity. For a brief moment, Izuku begins to wonder if he’s hallucinating because how can someone be this perfect?
All the while, ink-stained fingers sketch and blend, attempting to breathe life into parchment that does the subject matter justice. Teeth dig into his bottom lip in concentration. Should the shoulders be broader? When Izuku shifts to steal another glance…
He’s met with nothing.
The man’s nowhere to be seen.
It causes Izuku’s heart to drop. If only he’d had time to work in more detail. Maybe he can add on from memory as he’s sure there was a tattoo on the left-
Parchment is unceremoniously snatched from his grasp.
Rapidly standing, Izuku turns, shocked to find himself face to face with the subject of not only his sketch but of his wildest fantasies. How is the man even more handsome up close? Fiery eyes, full lips, hints of stubble lining a jaw that’s sharp enough to cut glass.
“You make a habit out of stalking people without their permission? This is supposed to be me, yea? Was gonna set you on fire, but this isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” The stranger’s eyebrow quirks upward before he begins examining the rest of the bound parchment, eyes narrowing at what he finds. “The hell is all this? You an artist or something?” His voice is deep and gruff, hard around the edges.
Izuku’s mouth falls open in awe. Japanese! The man’s speaking Japanese! They’ll be able to communicate with something other than gestures. Izuku’s gaze travels to the giant sword slung across his back and is thankful it hasn’t already been drawn. “Actually, I’m a-”
The explanation is cut short by a dagger aimed at his throat. It appears that he dismissed a sudden death threat too soon. Moving on instinct, he dodges and activates his Quirk – Blackwhip. Dark tendrils block the assault, wrapping around the man’s forearm to keep the blade at bay.
It requires less than a handful of seconds to understand his defense isn’t well received. With a snarl, a ball of fire materializes in the blond’s free palm which is then aimed directly at Izuku’s face. Once again utilizing Blackwhip, he extends tendrils, reaching behind to wrap around a few tree trunks. It allows Izuku to propel backward, effectively placing distance between himself and the opponent.
“I’m not a threat,” Izuku attempts to mollify, empty palms raised in surrender. To prove he means well, he deactivates his Quirk.
Without a retort, his opponent charges. Both hands are poised for propulsion, what must be explosions increasing his speed. That must’ve been how he was moving through the air when Izuku spotted him!
Activating his own Quirk in response, Blackwhip stretches upward to pull Izuku into the thick canopy of trees. Swinging from branch to branch, Izuku eludes a barrage of attacks, the beautiful blond man’s threats increasing in volume and detail as the chase progresses. This noticeably magnifies when he can no longer take to the air in pursuit, likely attempting to avoid setting the plants aflame.
“I don’t want to fight you!” Izuku reminds.
“I wouldn’t wanna fight me either!” the blond snarks back in a rage, teeth bared. “Because I’m gonna kill you, you outsider bastard! Get down here and fight me like a man!”
Ok, then. Izuku’s nostrils flare. Maybe this will give him an opportunity to explain himself.
Plummeting toward the ground, Izuku lands with his knee and fist pressed against the earth. He rises slowly, allowing the man to approach without ever breaking eye contact. Dodging another fiery blow aimed for his face, this time without Blackwhip, his fingers wrap around the aggressor’s wrist like a vice, tugging until they’re nose to nose. “You wanna fight like a man? Fine by me. Hand-to-hand combat only. No Quirks. If I win, you have to hear me out.”
“The fuck’s a Quirk?”
Izuku grip tightens. “This.” Writhing black tendrils emerge from his body, elongating and twisting to loom over them like a bad omen, positioned to strike at any given moment.
Sparks flash, dancing in the stranger’s irises. “You mean magic? Like I need magic to kick your ass.”
The forest falls even more silent when they part, the air heavy with tension. Both men circle, openly sizing one another up. Izuku might have a disadvantage in height but it isn’t by much and he’s put on plenty of bulk thanks to his travels, more than enough strength coiled inside his muscles. He’s no stranger to being underestimated. His freckled face and gentle demeanor often result in him being labeled a pushover.
Many have learned the hard way it’s not true.
Izuku can hold his own, even if it is against some half-clothed, sun-kissed barbarian man that seemingly descended from the heavens to drive a sword through his sternum. There are things he wants to do and nothing’s going to get in his way.
As expected, the hothead rushes first, throwing a punch Izuku could spot a kilometer away. He ducks, answering with a right hook to the man’s side. Little more than a grunt finds his ears before thick biceps wrap around Izuku’s midsection from above, squeezing his ribs and forcing him onto one knee. Izuku uses this to his advantage, leaning heavily to the left in order to diminish balance, displacing his opponent’s footing enough to kick an ankle out from underneath him. The maneuver has both of them toppling into a dense patch of grass.
It leads to the blonde claiming dominant position, legs at rest on either side of Izuku’s torso. But he isn’t home free, for Izuku’s palm is wrapped around his throat, white knuckled from the force of his grip.
In a turn of events Izuku didn’t anticipate, his opponent is suddenly on his feet, brushing dirt from his hands and knees nonchalantly as though he wasn’t just firing off death threats. He watches Izuku with an expression that’s difficult to place.
“You’re stronger than you look.”
Still guarded, Izuku sits halfway up, weight braced on his arms. “I get that a lot.”
“You impressed me, Freckles, so I’ve decided not to kill you today,” the man announces, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I rarely get a decent fight anymore, let alone from someone as short as you.”
Freckles Izuku understands to an extent, but short? The guy might be half a head taller than him. Before he forms a rebuttal, Blondie keeps talking, barking orders like it comes naturally.
“Grab your shit and don’t come back. If you do that, I won’t hurt you.”
Izuku bristles, his brow furrowing. “I’m not leaving.”
“Yes, you damn well are.” Clearly growing exasperated, his neck tilts toward the heavens. “Outsiders aren’t welcome here. This land belongs to the Bakugou Tribe.”
“My name’s Midoriya Izuku. I’m a cartographer – a mapmaker. I’m not here to cause any harm to you or the Bakugou Tribe you speak of. I’m simply here to chart this region.”
“Get your ass up and go back the way you came, Freckles.”
“You won’t even know I’m here-”
“I said no!”
“Why?”
Red irises flash dangerously, every word barely escaping the cage of his teeth. “If another member of the tribe finds out you’re here, you’re dead.”
Izuku throws caution to the wind with a shrug. He came this far and he isn’t turning tail now. Returning to his feet, he begins searching out his scattered belongings. “They won’t find out. I’ll be careful.”
The man stares incredulously as though Izuku has spontaneously grown a second head. “Did you not hear what I just said, idiot?”
“Oh, I heard you,” Izuku assures, carefully examining his items to ensure they aren’t damaged. Thankfully, everything’s intact. Slight creases on his pages are an easy fix. “I won’t get caught.”
“I already caught you!”
“You gonna kill me, then?” he challenges, staring at the blond head-on, emerald boring into ruby. “You already promised not to and you seem like a man of your word. Plus, I’d never let anyone kill me, anyway, let alone you.”
Several seconds go by before a feral grin etches itself into the stranger’s features, a laugh bellowing out of his chest. It catches Izuku off guard and releases every butterfly in his stomach. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. What are you called again, Freckles? Deku?”
“Izuku,” he corrects, a little breathless. “Midoriya Izuku.”
“Izuku,” the man repeats, mulling over his name as though he’s tasting a fine wine. And Izuku’d be a damn liar if he wasn’t practically melting at the way it sounds rolling off his tongue. “You see that mountain range? Never cross it. If you do, I’ll explode you.”
An uncontrollable smile stretches the length of Izuku’s face. Did he actually manage to negotiate with this hothead? Will he…get to see him again? “Sure thing.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose like he cannot fathom this turn of events, Blondie soon covers his face and shifts to walk away, preparing to blast into the setting sun.
“Wait,” Izuku calls, halting the man’s trajectory. “What should I call you?”
He slightly peers at him over his shoulder. “...Katsuki.”
Boom!
Then the gorgeous, feral, Katsuki explodes into the distance, touching down somewhere beyond a rock formation and disappearing out of sight.
And Izuku clutches parchment tightly to his chest, unable to stop himself from watching.
__________________________
Katsuki’s face is red.
He can feel it.
Wind rushes past him, billowing through his fur-lined cape, yet it does nothing to calm the fire burning in his cheeks.
That nerd of a man, Izuku, smiles with his entire body. His stupid, freckled face was practically sparkling after being given permission to explore some of the land and draw it on his shitty parchment.
Tch.
That’s a lie. His drawing isn’t shitty and the craftsmanship is good. For someone who claims not to be an artist, he sure as hell could’ve fooled Katsuki. It looks just as impressive as the scrolls housed in the tribe’s archives. The weight of a single page feels heavy in his pocket, a hand running over the outline.
A lot of things had fooled him.
Izuku is deceptively strong, a decent fighter, and possesses magic of all things – magic that reminds Katsuki of the ink trapped in those neatly created pages. Few are blessed in that regard. Most cannot stand their ground against him either, that’s for sure. Katsuki might have yet to come of age, but he’s the strongest amongst the Bakugou’s ranks, only Eijiro ever providing a decent spar. That hardening magic taught Katsuki much about weak points and has pushed him to train intensely. To be stronger. If he cannot crack his friend’s armored skin with knuckles or explosions, how is he to protect the tribe from invaders?
He barely represses the urge to dig his fingers into his eye sockets. Protect the tribe from invaders, his ass. Katsuki just did the exact opposite, leaving an outsider to wander a portion of the territory unsupervised…to what? Draw it? Why? Because Izuku isn’t a weakling? Because he refused to back down? Because he’s pretty? Because Katsuki’s heart raced when the nerd’s hand wrapped around his throat-
Katsuki takes those thoughts captive and desperately attempts to wring the life out of them.
He’ll return tomorrow and make the mapmaker leave, even if it's by force. Sometimes being a member of the Bakugou Tribe means he has to make uncomfortable decisions. Decisions that he doesn’t want to make. Decisions that are the opposite of what he desires.
When Katsuki’s boots touch down on the outskirts of their village, each step toward his friend’s bulky build is more difficult than the last, a pull directing him toward the east – toward the man with hair and eyes a deeper shade of evergreen than foliage nestled in the heart of the forest.
He unsuccessfully ignores it.
“Oi, Ei!” he calls, bumping fists with the man whittling what appears to be the beginnings of a knife. “I need to trade duties with you tomorrow. Think you can handle training the younglings?”
Ei’s expression shines, Katsuki knowing damn well that’s his favorite task. “Sure, why?”
It’s a miracle his voice doesn’t waver. “Just need to take care of something.”
That “something” refuses to get out of his skull.
During his evening meal, washing up, even laying in the darkness when all’s gone quiet…
When Katsuki closes his eyes, Izuku’s what he sees. Fingers drift over the edges of parchment that remains safe beneath his pillow.
Is the freckled nerd asleep right now? For some irrational reason, Katsuki finds he hates the idea of the man sleeping alone in the forest. Logic suggests that if he’s truly a mapmaker who’s traveled all the way here, he must be well-versed in survival…but still. It’s that time of year when sunset is followed by a chill. Predators stalk and attack their prey in the dead of night. What if-
Katsuki forces himself to take a deep breath. None of that matters. If he survives the night, tomorrow Katsuki will drive him from these lands. After tomorrow he’ll never see the nerd again.
Outsiders aren’t welcome.
Outsiders aren’t trusted.
That’s the way it’s always been.
__________________________
Morning couldn’t arrive fast enough. All damn night Katsuki tossed and turned, unable to sleep more than a few moments at a time. As soon as the sun begins to rise, he’s up and quietly making his way east, careful not to be seen.
Once he’s put a little distance between himself and the village, he won’t have much to worry about. Nobody’ll come looking for him since he switched duties with Ei and he’s expected to be out from dawn to sunset. So when Katsuki finally activates his magic, explosions manifest in his palms without delay, propelling him to the place he wants to be – the place he hopes Izuku is still staying, alive and well. Katsuki has to kick the mapmaker out but he doesn’t want him dead.
Blasting through the treeline, his boots find ground and immediately pace to where he remembers fighting the nerd yesterday. He expects to see Izuku camping or perhaps still asleep, however, there’s no sign of him. No remnants of a fire, no bedding, no tools scattered about.
Did he leave, after all?
Katsuki’s stomach sinks at the thought. Why, he isn’t sure. He’d come all this way to chase the mapmaker off anyway, right? He should be pleased that he isn’t expending any extra energy and can return to life as he knows it.
But he needs to make sure Izuku is actually gone – for the safety of the tribe, of course.
Listening ears search for unusual sounds while he studies the earth for footprints or other evidence of recent travel. After an hour passes without any sign that someone’s here or has been here, Katsuki decides to call it quits. If the nerd was still in this area, he would’ve been located by now. There would’ve been at least a trace. Something. An odd feeling washes over him.
Shoving through bushes and stray branches like they personally offend him, Katsuki stalks to the edge of the treeline and cracks his knuckles, ready to get the hell out of this forest that now does nothing but remind him of Izuku. It’s dumb as fuck. He was here for one day. Who gives a shit if he never sees the man again?
“Hey, Katsuki!”
Katsuki does. He gives a shit if he never sees him again.
Spinning on his heel, Katsuki searches yet isn’t rewarded with the sight of freckled cheeks.
Laughter rings through the air. “Up here!”
Tilting his chin upward activates a grin. Izuku’s smiling at him and waving, perched comfortably between the branches of a lofty tree. A weight is lifted off his chest. Something possesses Katsuki to wave back, his betraying arm moving of its own accord.
“I’ll come down to you!”
Katsuki’s brain processes the descent in slow motion. Wind whips through green curls, Izuku’s evergreen eyes wide and radiant like he’s happy to see him. Why…why does that make his heart thud?
“I’m so happy to see you!” Izuku exclaims, releasing a sensation so warm and molten that Katsuki’s glancing at his torso to ensure nothing’s oozing out. What the hell? “I was worried you wouldn’t come back,” the nerd admits with a nervous laugh, shrugging his shoulders.
The fact Katsuki’s supposed to banish him gets lost in translation, almost as if he never actually came to do that in the first place. “Yea?”
“Yea.”
“Why’s that?”
Izuku snorts like it’s the dumbest question he could’ve asked. “I’m an outsider. Yesterday you attacked me, threatened to kill me, and told me to leave. I wouldn’t exactly label you as friendly.”
That’s…fair. “I can be friendly,” he defends, crossing his arms when Izuku’s eyebrow raises skeptically. “What are you doing up there, anyway? Hiding?” The man’s eyeroll is forceful enough that Katsuki barely smothers his own snort.
“See for yourself.” Rolled parchment is offered, crimson irises narrowing in suspicion. “Go on,” the nerd urges, shaking it. “Take a look. It’s important that you believe me. I might be a lot of things but I’m certainly not a liar.”
Katsuki accepts and unrolls it with faux nonchalance. Various lines and dots are scrawled along the page, clearly denoting the beginnings of a map. “You already started?”
“I told you I was a cartographer. This is what I came here to do. Besides, I don’t have all the time in the world,” Izuku jokes, taking the page back. “I’m trying to finish as soon as possible. I meant what I said, you know. I’m not here to cause issues or bother your tribe.”
Finish as soon as possible replays in Katsuki’s mind without permission, an unpleasant echo that spurs him to action. “You’ll need my help, then.”
If the nerd’s not planning to stay long, everything should be fine. Katsuki will simply show him the sights – to speed up the process – and make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble or get hurt.
“What?” Izuku’s parchment slips from his fingers, the mapmaker snapping back to reality when he realizes it’s fallen onto the grass. He scurries to pick it up, his half-open pack tipping forward, leading to several more of his belongings spilling onto the ground in a clatter. His countenance burns while his hands work to gather everything together, constantly mumbling incoherently under his breath. “OhmygodsohmygodsIcannotbelieveIjustdidthathowembarrassinghe’ssohandsomeandwantstohelpmeIthinkI’mgonnadieohmy-”
Katsuki only catches a few words here and there, though what he does decipher, he thoroughly enjoys. Smirking, Katsuki bends at the knees, resting his elbows on his thighs. He reaches to capture Izuku’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it to meet his gaze. “Yea, I said I’d help you, I-zu-ku,” he accentuates, reveling when the man almost turns purple. Never breaking eye contact, he picks up a rogue brush, shivers trailing down his spine when their fingers touch. “That ok with you?”
“Yes,” Izuku says instantly, sounding winded.
“We’ve got a lot of places to visit. Better get started.”
__________________________
Katsuki doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but at the same time…he does.
Should he be showing the nerd around? Watching as he furiously takes notes and draws miniature scenes from the nature before him? No, no he shouldn’t.
Yet the fact of the matter is that Katsuki enjoys it – way too much if he’s being honest. The starry eyes. Exaggerated smiles. The ridiculous muttering. Izuku’s use of magic.
Katsuki appreciates that Izuku initiates activating his “Quirk” to give him a bird’s eye view of the terrain or lift him to sit atop a sizable boulder. That he’s kept him close. That he’s tried to include him.
The mapmaker continues to surprise Katsuki. Being with him is exciting in a way that’s different from his tribe, though there’s an odd form of comfort and peace Katsuki struggles to put a name to. Nothing’s made him feel like this before. No person has ever made him feel like this. Katsuki wasn’t sure anyone ever would.
Never has Katsuki found himself thinking another human being was adorable. Never has he witnessed someone so excited to draw a squiggly line, explain rock formations, or attempt to mathematically analyze distance with silly-looking tools and more scribbling. Katsuki hasn’t ever enjoyed someone’s company this much, let alone an outsider’s.
He could listen to Izuku talk his ear off all damn day. Could watch the way his expression brightens at the smallest things. Katsuki thrives off of watching the nerd get flustered when he teases him. When nightfall draws near, the sun moving farther and farther west, Katsuki finds himself disappointed.
Careful not to fuck up his shit, Katsuki waits to speak until the mapmaker finishes placing a tiny, precise dot onto the parchment. “Gotta leave soon. Don’t die tonight,” he advises with a nudge.
Izuku peers up at him through thick eyelashes, confused. “Why would I die? You’ve seen firsthand that I’m not helpless.”
“I’m not saying you’re helpless, you’re far from that. But…but you’re alone here and shit. In the forest. At night. It’s not only full of birds, you know.”
A steady stream of air is blown onto the drying ink. “Are you talking about animals? Like the bears and the boars?”
“You’ve seen ‘em?”
“Well, yea, I killed a boar my first night here. Lived off it for a few days. As for the bears, I just avoid them. They don’t like being around humans, anyway.”
Katsuki’s interest is piqued. “How’d you kill the boar?” he inquires with genuine curiosity. He hasn’t noticed Izuku prancing around with a bow and arrow, only the blade strapped to his side.
“With my sword.”
The fuck? “Eh?”
Izuku graces him with a nonchalant shrug, tapping the parchment to make sure it’s dry enough to be rolled. “I provoked it to charge me,” he explains while packing up his supplies and slipping the pack over his shoulders. “I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”
Why Katsuki never pinned him for a skilled swordsman, he’ll never know. “You should fight me again,” he blurts, “but with a sword this time.”
The nerd bursts into laughter, his entire body shaking with the force of it. “Yea, yea, ok. Next time. How about a meal before you go?”
“A meal?”
“I can cook for you! Unless you need to leave right away. If so, I understand.”
The idea of sharing a real meal with Izuku is too good to pass up, even if it's a bit risky. He’s been preparing food since he was a youngling, meaning throwing something together should be easy enough. “I’ll cook.”
“No, let me,” Izuku insists, carefully balancing on the branch when he stands upright. “I already have it all planned out.”
Katsuki’s neck retracts at the statement, staring as a blush suffuses his skin. How long has the nerd been thinking about this? Izuku wants to cook for him?
Realizing his slip-up, Izuku begins nervously mumbling, overly explaining the situation. “I-I mean…I already have an idea of what to prepare and I think you'll like it! Or at least I hope you do. I’ve got some great ideas for flavoring and I’ve learned a lot in my travels. I can makeamealoutofalmostanything…” he trails off, scratching the nape of his neck.
There’s no adequate way to hide how satisfied Katsuki feels right now. Izuku’s been thinking about him. “Show me what you’ve got,” he challenges. In an effort to reclaim his composure, Katsuki suddenly leaps out of the tree, unsurprised when a black tendril wraps around his waist, gently guiding him downward (no matter the fact he could absolutely handle it himself). This does nothing to aid with the deep shade of pink staining his ears.
Once they’ve both descended safely, Izuku’s elbow bumps into his. “Let me guess, you’re an excellent cook and you’ll be critiquing me pretty harshly?”
“Of course, I’m the best at everything,” he jokes as though it’s obvious, “Can’t you tell?”
Mirth floods the space between them. “I should’ve known you’d say that. I hate to break it to you, Katsuki, but you won’t be the best at everything if you keep hanging around me.”
“Tch, what are you better than me at? Being a nerd? You can have that accolade without any pushback from me.”
“There’s more to me than my maps, Katsuki.”
And doesn’t he fucking know it.
Later, when he’s eating fish Izuku caught with his bare fucking hands from the river and grilled over a small fire, Katsuki’s impressed again. The nerd seasoned the meat with sansho peppercorns, chopped ginger, and some damn mushroom he found, and it’s somehow incredible? Katsuki stares at it so often that Izuku finishes eating first and begins cleaning up, ridding the area of signs he was ever present.
“Will you join me again tomorrow?” Izuku asks while stomping out a few remaining embers.
Katsuki’s heart races. He wants to see the mapmaker again and the sentiment appears mutual. Nothing could keep him from returning, even a damn monsoon. Tomorrow’s his scheduled day of rest and he now has every intention of spending it here.
“I may show up to kick your ass out,” Katsuki grunts, “or,” he continues, approaching until they’re only centimeters apart, staring at Izuku with enough focus to count every freckle splashed across his nose, “I can show you my sword skill when you take a break from nerd shit and I’ll cook for you afterward. Whaddya say?”
Air escapes from his lungs in droves while he awaits Izuku’s response, and there’s no way in hell he just imagines Izuku’s eyes flicking toward his lips. It ignites something deep within the pit of Katsuki’s stomach.
To his delight, Izuku doesn't shy away. Instead, he reaches to brush a stray leaf from the fur of Katsuki’s cape, allowing his hand to linger a few seconds longer than necessary. “Sure, as long as you don’t expect me to take it easy on you.”
He swoons. “Wouldn't dream of it.”
__________________________
For someone who initially threatened to kill him, Katsuki’s come to visit often. It hasn’t been every day for hours on end – as he has responsibilities and doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to Izuku’s presence – but he shows up when he can.
Izuku’s not complaining.
To be completely honest, Izuku wishes that Katsuki’d never leave. That he could stay and talk, spar, teach him more about tribal customs and his way of life. Katsuki’s fascinating, drawing him in with qualities that extend far beyond his otherworldly good looks. Beneath his tough-guy exterior, ego, and gruff word choices, he’s smart, easily picking up how to utilize mapping tools and the mathematics behind it all. Katsuki’s also quite thoughtful, always checking in on him and going out of his way to do something kind such as deliver a meal.
Izuku almost fainted the day the blond brought him a thick blanket from his village because he was worried Izuku was getting cold now that autumn is in full-swing. He extra almost fainted upon the discovery that it smelled like Katsuki. The days have been cooler, and Izuku had been considering crafting outerwear out of animal hide, but Katsuki had beaten him to that too, a coat and gloves seemingly appearing at his camp overnight.
Yet as much as it hurts, Izuku understands that Katsuki lives in a world he can never truly be a part of. It's a harsh reality he’ll have to live with, well, forever. Though it goes against his personal wishes, Izuku cannot stay here much longer. He’s explored all areas of the region he was allowed access to and created the most detailed maps possible. Every excuse to stay longer materialized in his brain. Double-checking distances, correcting the smallest mistakes, taking days of rest…
But he’s been here almost two months and he’s run out of excuses.
Izuku must tell Katsuki the truth – that they might not have known one another for long, but a part of him feels like he’s always known the man. Perhaps in another lifetime. And that…
He loves him.
Izuku understands that he has to leave. He does. Despite that, he wants to come clean, because at the end of it all, Izuku believes that Katsuki loves him too.
He’d never ask the man to leave his people – the Bakugou Tribe – to follow him east. That would be incredibly selfish. At the end of the day, he wants what’s best for Katsuki.
Yet Izuku’s regret would eat him alive if he left without telling Katsuki how he feels.
For generations, members of the Bakugou Tribe have confessed by presenting their necklaces, proof of their strength and resolve. Each bead is hand-carved from teeth and other bones of their prey or enemies. These are offered in exchange for partnership. Marriage. A lifetime of love and dedication.
Izuku’s painfully aware that he isn’t a part of the tribe. He has no necklaces to bestow. Hell, he’s not even supposed to be here. There’s no way he can measure up to that level of confession though he’ll certainly try. It’s why he’s sitting here now, weaving a crown from wild osmanthus in shades of gold and orange, the petals a brilliant contrast to the vibrant green leaves. It’s impossible not to admire how beautiful the colors look…how complimentary they are.
Footsteps Izuku’s come to know and love approach from behind, the gentle fingers displacing his curls making it easy to identify who’s arrived.
“Welcome back,” Izuku greets, barely louder than the running water to his side. He remains hyperfocused, determined to make the crown absolutely perfect. It’s funny. He hadn’t done this since he was a kid, and here he is, about to reveal his love to another man with a skill his mother taught him – one he’d always considered silly. Over the last few days, Izuku’s practiced this several times over, once again growing accustomed to the repetitive motions and eager to ensure everything looks aesthetically pleasing. Yesterday he made one mistake. Today, so far, none. This is the one he’s finally going to present to Katsuki.
“Thanks.”
“How was your morning?” Izuku inquires, still refusing to look away from the project resting in his lap, hands busy.
“Good, I guess. I gathered some herbs for our healers and then spent some time in the archives. Wasn’t too bad.” The longer Izuku’s been with Katsuki, the softer his voice has grown. It no longer carries the sharp edge it used to, the one that sliced and burned and was hesitant to trust. “What’re you working on?”
As if destined by the cosmos, in that very moment, Izuku ties the last knot, holding up the headwear to admire his handiwork. “This. What do you think?”
Katsuki stares for a moment, thoughtful as he always is when examining Izuku’s creations. “I can tell you worked hard on this. It’s pretty. Those colors are my favorite.”
For some reason, his response makes Izuku want to cry. When Katsuki’s eyes widen and he’s suddenly down on one knee, wiping tears away from Izuku’s cheeks, he realizes that he is crying.
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Was it something I said?”
Katsuki’s reaction and the careful movement of his thumbs causes Izuku to cry harder. His chin bobs up and down, heart practically pounding out of his chest. “I’m-I’m glad that you like it,” he squeezes out, presenting the crown with shaking arms. “They’re my favorite too. I made this for you.”
The blond freezes, line of sight flitting back and forth between Izuku’s tear-streaked face and the flowers. They’re placed on top of Katsuki’s windswept hair with utmost care, and not for the first time, Izuku’s reminded that his love looks like some kind of god to be worshipped.
One of Katsuki’s palms elevates slowly, barely caressing the crown now adorning his head. “It’s beautiful, thank you. Now, tell me what’s going on. Are you hurt? Sick? Have I upset you?” One hand still cradles Izuku’s jaw, his gaze searching for any clues as to what’s happening.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Izuku rests his hand over Katsuki’s. “I’m out of excuses.”
Both brows twist deep lines into tanned skin. “Excuses?”
“To…to stay,” Izuku explains with a heavy heart. “I should’ve left weeks ago, but I did anything I could to stay longer. To be with you as long as I could,” he reveals with a wet laugh. “I’ve charted everything within the designated range. Perfected it. I should’ve already been traveling hours away for more data, continuing on the path I’d intended, but…I was afraid I’d miss your visits.”
Katsuki’s still silently kneeling, body stiff.
“The time I’ve spent here has been wonderful,” Izuku promises, leaning into Katsuki’s touch even more, “but I have to go. Today will be my last day in this forest. You’ve done so much for me. Made me so happy. I…I wanted you to have something to remember me by.” He gestures toward the woven flowers. “To hopefully return even a fraction of that happiness.”
Izuku isn’t sure if Katsuki’s breathing. He doesn’t speak, so Izuku continues, figuring now is as good a time as any. “I love you. I…I want you to know that.”
He’s not prepared for the expression that overtakes Katsuki’s face.
And he’s certainly not prepared for when Katsuki’s lips touch his, warmth blooming from the contact. The kiss is soft, reverent, his cheeks once again cradled in safety. For a few seconds, Izuku’s afraid that he’s dreaming. That he’s going to wake up and discover none of this is real.
Katsuki breaks away to murmur a few words. His ruby irises are heated, holding immeasurable depth while they gaze into Izuku’s. “Then stay.”
__________________________
Warmth encompasses every fiber of Katsuki’s being, like he’s plunged into shallow water in the midst of summer. It’s sappy as fuck, but he’s never been this happy in his whole damn life. Izuku has turned him into a lovesick mess and you know what? He doesn’t give a shit. When that crown was held out with trembling fingers, he wanted to cry. He definitely wants to cry now, Izuku’s visage swimming.
It didn’t take long for Katsuki to realize that Izuku’s it for him. It’s why he never forced the nerd to leave. Why he could never stop returning to these woods. Izuku’s on his mind all hours of the day, the thought of being permanently separated akin to his chest being impaled by the sharpest blade. Katsuki’s been searching and searching for answers and workarounds regarding their situation in the archives.
Izuku belongs with him. A part of Katsuki knew that the very first day they met.
Before now, he’d never fully grasped the depth of romantic love. Sure, his Ma and Pops love one another unconditionally and Ei is head over heels for the healer’s dark-eyed daughter, but no amount of third-wheeling or relationship talks could’ve prepared him for this feeling.
It's intense. All consuming.
So Katsuki is dead serious. If he loses Izuku, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. There have been several instances in which he’s legitimately considered parting from the tribe himself.
“Stay with me,” Katsuki pleads, staring straight into Izuku’s watery green eyes, their lips barely separated. It would be nothing to close the distance, something Katsuki wants to do again and again, something he’s certain he’ll never tire of.
The words fracture Izuku’s heart further, Katsuki convinced it’s shattering into tiny pieces from how the man crumples into his arms. He holds him with care, the softest kiss pressing into his messy curls. “Stay.”
A muffled sob racks Izuku’s shoulders. “I-I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m an outsider,” the mapmaker grieves, “and outsiders aren’t welcome. That’s the first rule you ever taught me.”
Katsuki’s steady grip guides Izuku to lean back. Slowly, intentionally, he takes off his necklaces and places them over Izuku’s head. “I’ll change the rules.”
Izuku's mouth is agape, the man staring at him in shock and wonder. Trembling fingers ghost over the beads and teeth Katsuki’s lacquered with blood and ash and flowers – beads he’s earned and created since childhood.
“You are mine,” Katsuki declares. “I’m not letting you go, Izuku. Not today, not ever.”
This time, Izuku slams their lips together, their dance of tongue and teeth better than Katsuki could’ve dreamed. He can taste mint from Izuku’s afternoon tea and salt from his tears. Breathless, he retreats for air first, torso heaving and smile genuine. “Does that mean you’re staying?”
“I’d love to,” Izuku gasps, also in need of a deep breath. “But-but what do you mean you’ll change the rules? How’s that possible?”
Katsuki reveals a truth he should’ve told Izuku long ago. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki, only child of Bakugou Chieftains Masaru and Mitsuki and heir to the throne. If they wish for me to remain in these lands, they’ll bend to my will.”
Izuku’s brain briefly ceases function, his countenance reminiscent of a fish stranded on dry land. “You…you’re a prince?!”