Archive of Our Own

March, 1798, Surrey

Bakugou Mitsuki believes that she is just like every other mother in the ton. Any woman of her age and stature only wants one two things out of life: to uphold her position for her lineage and to make sure her daughter uphold it as well. Marry well within her class and become a figurehead for other advantageous, well-respectable ladies that would see her as something to strive for. 

As a countess, there is not much more she could do as far as social standing went. She had married well, that Mitsuki is proud of. It was a match only few in her generation could hope for: a love match. She knows she is lucky. Masaru, just like herself, had a temperament that should have collided with hers in the most disagreeable way. Somehow, thankfully, Mitsuki's pursuits of the shy and reserved son of a well-respected kuge that had fled their shared country when he was a child. With Mitsuki being a distant relative of a former shogun, both families had found their union most agreeable. It also did not hurt that the two of them had been amiable before their engagement, so married life was more or less the same as it was when they had been friendly. 

Mistuki feels the dull ache of the years since her time spent in the sharp and observant eyes of the ton, always watching, waiting for a slip that would mean ruin for her family. The two of them had worked hard to be granted their titles of Earl and Countess. They had both fought hard for the Queen's favor for their land, their homes, and now, their daughter, Katsuki. 

Mitsuki's sharp eyes watch her now, as she rolls around in their garden of their country estate. She rubs her temples as she feels another one of her pains surface. 

She must have sighed aloud, for the next thing she knows, she is responded by a, "Oh, Mistuki, have the girls abandoned their governess again?" 

Mistuki turns from where she had been looking out her large window that oversees the lavish garden. Her drawing room, the room she found the most comfort in outside of her library, is bathed in the bright, afternoon sunlight that had refused to grace their presence for dark, cold clouds that this island possesses. As a child, she remembered running around in her father's old gardens, most happy when the sun was out. So, too, it seems, does her daughter. 

Izuku as well. 

"Unfortunately, Inko," she sighs as she sits and allows herself to rest in one of the many plush chairs that decorates the spacious room. "I fear for Katsuki often."

The recently widowed Baroness Midoriya Inko, a woman close in age with Mitsuki and although her lineage was not as decorated, Inko is a dear friend and one of the only people in this too small town to truly feel the isolation and sorrow of never being allowed to return home. As fate would have it, Inko has a daughter a few months younger than Katsuki, and who better a playmate than her as the two of them grow together. Unfortunately for them, Izuku and Katsuki have brought out the best and worst in one another. 

Katsuki is a natural-born leader. Mitsuki is sure that is one of the traits Katsuki inherited from her instead of from simply watching her. She demands attention in any room she walks in, but she’s just like that. A spitfire with no sign of going out, she's brash, brazen, and the most unruly child according to every governess she has gone through. 

("She's very bright!"

"She is an exceptional child, my lady! There is no one her age I can think of that matches her level. You should be very proud."

And, thus, Katsuki also absorbed every admirable comment on her excellence. Her drive to be the best at everything soured her countenance in the home. 

The Midoriya family's arrival was just what they needed. Izuku's temperament is much like Masaru's. From the moment the two met, Mistuki knew that Izuku would match Katsuki at her best and worst. Much like her and her husband, Izuku worships the very ground Katsuki walks upon. Much like now, running around the freshly bloomed garden full of fragrant lavenders, draping wisteria, and bountiful hydrangeas, uncaring of soiling their fine play clothes. 

Izuku also has her own sense of confidence and pride that despite her affectionately named "Kacchan" could not overcome. Katsuki pushed and shoved, and Izuku was an unmovable force. The shared admiration of Katsuki's brashness and Izuku's stubbornness was the magnetic force that drew the girls together that seemed unbreakable. 

 Inko gently places her cup of tea onto the oak table separating the two of them. "Why should you? You do not seem the type." 

Mitsuki took in a deep breath and slowly releases it, the weight of her anxiety dissipating, but only for a moment. 

"She is too much like me, Inko. I was lucky with Masaru, more than many." She sighs, shifting in her seat. "I know at this age, it may be too early to tell much how she and little Izuku will turn out, and forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I cannot help but worry about  finding her a suitable match when it comes for her to debut." 

Inko smiles, in that gentle way that she does. "I do admit that Katsuki is quite the fear-some creature." She stands and crosses the room to join Mitsuki at her side. She takes hold of her hand and begins caressing it. "Just be blessed that our girls have each other. Be happy that they have had the rare privilege to grow up in the country together, knowing each other closer than we could hope for. And, when the time comes for them to marry, they will be each other's confidants, leaning against each other, like we do." 

Mistuki's shoulders drop. She takes her thumb and caresses it against Inko's hand. Her green eyes, so similar to Izuku’s, gaze into hers. Like the finest emeralds in the Queen's collection, Mitsuki never fails to find comfort there. 

If her eyes brought her this much peace, then Izuku's must hold the same powers for Katsuki. 

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May, 1813, Surrey

In Izuku's opinion, May is one of the most beautiful months of the year. As far as spring is concerned, it is. A month where the flowers have finished blooming, the winter and cool months have finally bid adieu, and the moments leading up to her days in the city. The countryside is beautiful, spacious, and quiet. But Izuku can not help but long for the different events, social calls, and promenading with dear friends. 

People in the country never want to gallivant during the winter seasons where many prefer to stay indoors. The late spring and early summer are the perfect time to find relaxation and pleasure in the company of many. And the city provides many opportunities with operas, balls, and large parties. Since her debut, more and more time has been spent at these gatherings Izuku cannot help but enjoy. 

Nonetheless, spending time in her family's large garden never fails to ease her nerves as the days of their departure draws near. Much like today, where the sun kisses her skin gently, where the bees pollinate the flowerbeds, the birds softly singing; surrounding herself in nature has been her solace since she was in leading strings. Her fondest memories are spent here, notebooks in hand as she takes notes of the rotating plants that sprout here and there. Many times she spent those moments alone, but there were times where the silence would be interrupted by— 

"Kacchan!" 

Shouting is not the most appropriate reaction, especially for her age, but surely this is an exception. 

Izuku smiles brightly as Kacchan approaches her small table she sits. Izuku takes the time Katsuki spends crossing the garden with a servant smoothing out her Half Dress. A call from Kacchan never required any more than that. 

Dressed similarly, Kacchan still she looked far more formal than Izuku felt. 

Those familiar ruby red eyes are especially enchanting today. 

She sits as Izuku turns to her maid, who is standing only feet away. "You may leave. Do tell the others of Miss Bakugou's arrival and have the tea brought out." 

The woman, Aimi, curtsied. "Yes, my lady." 

She leaves when Kacchan turns her attention to her. "'Miss Bakugou'? 'My lady'? How much have I missed since my travels?" 

Izuku waves her hand dismissively. "Nothing too important, Kacchan. Mama just believes that I should grow more accustomed to leading a household and familiarize myself with titles more often," She rests her elbows on the small garden table. "In preparation of my hopefully eventual match." 

Kacchan looks aside as her expression sours. "Are you still on that shit?" 

Izuku furrows her brows. "Of course I am, Kacchan. The last few seasons, I rarely had anyone call upon me, fewer last season than before. I worry that my eligibility has been diminished by my lack of admirers." She leans back to rest on the uncomfortable metal chair. "Every suitable match has made their advancements, but I fear that my rejection of too many of them has dissuaded many others from attempting any sort of courtship." 

Kacchan makes that expression she has been making a lot more recently. The one where she goes silent and looks lost in her thoughts. Many years have passed from the days when she truly spoke her mind, unafraid of the social repercussions. She just looks at Izuku, softly as she has been doing these last few years, before letting out a deep sigh. 

"Anyone who would rather suffer in silence than even attempt for your hand is a fool, Deku." 

The soft-spoken nickname always is a welcomed treat. Long gone were their girlhood days when calling for each other by these intimate names was socially acceptable. It is Izuku or Katsuki, Miss Midoriya or Miss Bakugou; the now rarer moments like these, alone without the watchful eyes brought Izuku the sense of comfort she had missed with her friend's departure almost one year ago. 

Letters could only soothe her ache for Kacchan's company. Nothing quite like having the real thing, with her ironically comforting presence, her deeper, smoother voice quite unlike anything Izuku’s heard anywhere else. It was days spent hiding from governesses, sneaking out at night visiting each other's estates both in the country and city, early mornings and shared breakfasts. It was the closest personification of home and comfort Izuku found in any person she has ever met. 

The sound of the rushing water of the fountain fills the comfortable silence between the two. 

A playful expression passes over Kacchan's face. She leans in closer to Izuku. "Well, I guess I could always attempt at your hand." 

Izuku sits straighter in her seat as she feels a nervous laugh bubble through her. 

"Kacchan…Kacchan courting me?" 

The blonde shrugs in response. "Why not? Despite us two being an unconventional match, I believe that we could make each other happy." She pauses as the tea and small pastries finally get brought to them. Izuku fiddles with her tea cup as it is being filled. A quick thanks to the staff and they leave as if they had never been there. 

"I still don't understand." 

"See it this way," Kacchan says as she draws away, leaving the subtle scent of her perfume behind. "These "suitors" of yours are too cowardly to approach you as you are now. They believe that as long as you stay unattached, they still have all the time in the world to wait until you become desperate enough that you will say 'yes' to anyone who asks for your hand first." She picks up a small wafer as she speaks, biting the end off with a small crunch. 

"Once they see that you have someone who actually gives you the time of day, or you become inaccessible, your desirability increases, and thus, your marriage proposals," Katsuki finishes. "If you trust me enough, you will have the most prospective partner by the end of this season." 

Izuku considers it. The idea of marriage never appealed to her, at least pragmatically. But Kacchan is right. She had been one of the most, if not the most, desired debutant since her introduction nearly three or four years ago. Her constant rejection of all her courtiers had not diminished the outreach she always got. It is a scheme many girls Izuku knows used, all successful too. And really, what does she truly gain to lose? With Kacchan, at least their chemistry would be more believable than if Izuku had gone along with a random someone. 

Izuku's smile is all the answer Kacchan needs. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀

July, 1813, London 

Waking up in her family's summer home is still an adjustment. With months of waking up to the serene quiet of the countryside to the almost never-ending ambiance city life created attributed to her restlessness last night, Izuku is sure. 

Or maybe it is the ever-present anxiety of the scheme she and Kacchan had drawn up in that garden months ago. Izuku can’t tell. 

She doesn't get a moment to contemplate further as she is blinded by her room's curtains opening and flooding her room with the summer morning's sunlight. 

"Good morning, mistress," Aimi says as she bustles around the room, straightening every piece of furniture before moving to her wardrobe for the day's attire. 

Izuku sits up as she fights off the last bit of sleep she had managed to get. "Good morning, Aimi. What…what time is it?" 

Aimi returns with two dresses. "It's around nine, Miss." 

Izuku groans. Her last letter from Kacchan had demanded that she meet her at the ice cream parlor most frequented by most of the ton by noon. "More likely to get the flames started," she murmurs. 

It is  three hours out, but that doesn't leave too much time for Izuku to ready herself. Or her nerves.

"Kacchan wants to meet at the parlor by noon.” Yawning, she slowly drags herself out from underneath her bedsheets and covers. "Ask for a bath to be drawn soon, I'm already behind her schedule." 

Aimi grins, no doubt used to Kacchan running both Izuku and her own schedule. 

"Of course, Miss. Right away."

The rest of the morning passes by without any major hiccups. Izuku's bath has been scented with lavender, a smell that she had grown quite fond of in her girlhood. She would have fallen asleep from her attendants massaging her scalp if it weren't for the gossip the staff had divulged into as she was scrubbed. Something about the youngest of the Todoroki family had finally returned to town after years of social avoidance. 

The moment she steps outside, the energy from the streets seems to rejuvenate the energy she had been missing all morning. By now, it is a quarter till, and with the shoppe being a twenty minute walk, Izuku starts mentally preparing herself for the earful she knows awaits when she walks through those doors. 

With Aimi closely behind, the journey is not as bothersome as she had anticipated. Greeting friends and acquaintances she hasn’t seen since the summer before allows for the nerves that had reared its ugly head to diminish once more. 

She steps away from where Kacchan must wait inside when she bumps into a tall man standing in the middle of the street. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir! I wasn't watching where I was going and—" 

When he turns around, his face stops Izuku in her tracks. 

"Ah! Todoroki!" 

Todoroki Shouto, the youngest of Duke Todoroki's four children. The last they had seen each other was four summers ago, back when Izuku was ten and six and he was ten and five. Their friendship had been a close one, not one as close as her and Kacchan's, but close enough to where they had exchanged letters a handful of times up until two years ago. Now that she is one and twenty and he twenty, it seems almost like an eternity ago. 

"Midoriya?" His voice is still as smooth as when he was younger, but it had dropped considerably. His usual closed-off expression shifts into something a little more open. A smile that had been rarer in their youth graces his expression. 

Izuku returns his smile. There are surely people passing them on the street, carefully observing them. But that doesn’t matter right now. 

"It's been so long, Shouto. Or should I say Mr. Todoroki?" 

He smiled. "Shouto is just fine." 

"Then, please, just Izuku is fine as well." 

"Where are you going?" Shouto asks as he brushes off invisible dust from their impact. "I'd be more than happy to accompany you there so you arrive safely." 

"You're too kind, really," Izuku responds as she takes hold of the arm he held out. "I'm going to the sweet shoppe just around the corner so your journey shouldn't be too long." 

"How unfortunate, I was hoping that we would be able to spend a little more time together before we both get swept up by this season's events." 

Izuku smiles up at him. He's not much taller than she, standing about four or five centimeters above her. Kacchan is slightly smaller than him, even in her pumps she would wear to match her eyes. She always claims that they are a nuisance, but they really did make any dress she wore with them pop more. 

Izuku wonders what she'd wear at their next ball. 

"It's been too long since we have been able to see one another. Tell me, how are you doing these days?" 

Izuku hesitates. "Well," she begins, "despite the fact that I'm coming up on my last few years of courtship before I'm classified as a spinster, decently." 

Shouto raises a questioning eyebrow. "You still haven't married?"

Izuku shakes her head in confirmation. "I've had suitors, of course. But none of them have been serious enough to fully make their intentions known. They always end up backing out right before the end of the season." 

Shouto smiles mischievously. "You don't say." 

"Don't look at me like that! I don't scare them all off, they just…end up not being what I'm looking for anyways." 

"And what is it you are looking for?" 

A question that Izuku herself still hasn't been able to answer after all these years. 

"I guess…I don't know. Just something that feels right, although I don't know what that would be." 

"Oi! Deku!" 

They make it right outside of the parlor, with a very much not inside Kacchan, with her attendant only steps below her rushing to catch up with her mistress' determined and rapid trek towards Izuku and Shouto.

In a matter of steps, Katsuki grabs Izuku's arm that had been wrapped around Shouto's. 

"Ah, Katsuki, been awhile." 

"Don't act so formal and pretentious, you icy bastard." 

Shouto grins. "'Icy bastard?' I thought that we had moved past that point in our relationship." 

Kacchan sends an unpleasant look in his direction, judgmentally analyzing him from head to toe. 

"That was before you stopped responding to my letters. What, was Spain just too fun that you stopped speaking with me for three months?" 

That made Izuku freeze momentarily. Three months? Izuku and Shouto haven't spoken to one another in years. And yet, had he and Kacchan been constantly communicating this entire time? 

She takes another glance at the two of them who seem to have forgotten she is even there. They are talking about…something. Izuku seems to have tuned them out since Kacchan's letter accusation. She hadn't realized the two of them had been close before Shouto's travels. It makes sense, in a way. Kacchan is an Earl's daughter, Shouto the son of a Duke, so they would of had more events to attend together. Sure, Izuku is the heir of a viscountess, but compared to the two of them, their worlds never overlapped as much. 

A sick sensation begins to grow in Izuku's chest and stomach. Her chest especially grows tighter as they continue on without her. Izuku turns her attention back towards Kacchan, who's earlier annoyed demeanor seems to have been replaced by something far less hostile. 

"Well," Izuku interrupts whatever the conversation had turned into, "We best ought to be going, Shouto. It was a wonderful surprise, honestly, but we simply must have our afternoon together. Kacchan and I have many plans together this season that we simply do not want to miss out on together." 

"Oh?" 

Izuku puffed up her chest as she breathed in. She tightened her grip around Kacchan's arm. 

"Yes. You see, Kacchan and I have decided to become engaged." 

"Engaged?" "Engaged?!"

Kacchan's face breaks out into a furious flush of pink. "Izuku, what are you doing? We said we'd be courting," she hisses in her ear. 

Izuku pays her comment no mind. That would be an error they can fix later. 

She turns with her grip still tight on Katsuki's arm as they make their way back towards the parlor. 

"Deku, what the hell was that all about?" 

Izuku knows she's pouting, a habit that she was supposed to have broken years ago. The spoon clinking against the cup of coffee she had ordered is also unbecoming of her, but right now, who really cares?

"I got ahead of myself." 

"Fucking obviously," Kacchan scoffs under her breath. The tea shop is full of patrons that have been unsuccessfully sneaking glances at the two of them since they both rushed inside. 

"I'm trying to help you and now you're sulking like a child?" 

Izuku gently (gently) slams her spoon against the clean, white tablecloth. She immediately curses herself knowing that the coffee that had stuck to the spoon would be sure to stain. She makes a mental note to repay the owners for a new one.

"How many times do I have to say 'I'm sorry'? I wasn't expecting Shouto to be there and ask that question." 

Kacchan looks at her quizzically. "What question, Izuku? We were talking about his old man breathing down his neck on his lack of engagement." She takes a moment to recollect her temper. "Izuku, are you okay? You seemed out of it. You're coming down with something, aren't you?" 

"No?" Izuku isn’t sure what question she is answering. Is she okay? Had she really "seemed out of it"? 

"Look." Kacchan reaches across the table and grabs her hand. Her gloves are new. Izuku hasn’t seen this pair before, and Kacchan rarely wears anything new unless it is absolutely necessary. "I want to help you, truly, but we need to be on the same ground, Izuku." 

Izuku cannot meet her eyes. Her gloves are a cute, little style, only coming up to her wrists. Her hands looked like they always did, but right now they looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. Just having Kacchan's hands in hers seems to relive any worry she has. 

They are strong, steady and secure. In them, Izuku is safe. 

Izuku sighs when those hands come up from her hand, gently placed on her cheek. 

"More than anything in this world, I want you to be happy." 

Kacchan's voice is soft. Izuku both loves and hates it. 

"But what about you, don't you want to be happy?" 

Kacchan falls silent. She doesn't meet Izuku's eyes, preferring to stare out the window next to her. Izuku follows her gaze. The street is full of finely dressed men and women, some arm in arm. Kacchan's gaze seems to linger on two young ladies with their chaperones paces behind them. 

"You're going to be a wonderful wife Izuku." 

Kacchan isn’t looking at her. Izuku crumples up the napkin she had in her lap. 

"You really think so?" 

Kacchan returns her attention back to Izuku. She rests her head and chin in her palm, elbow resting against the table. 

Izuku grins. Kacchan never was one for following societal rules. 

Kacchan levels her with an unreadable gaze. 

Kacchan smiles back at her, although it doesn't reach her eyes. Something, Izuku is just now realizing, she has been doing more often. 

"When am I ever wrong?" 

Izuku hopes that at least her smile reaches her eyes as Kacchan looks into them. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀

The plan, originally, is decently simple. 

She and Kacchan will pretend to be madly in love, fake court as other suitors try their hand at winning over Izuku's attention until they find the kind of partner she want to spend the rest of her life with. 

But, ever since her conversation with Shouto, it’s…well…

"And what is it you are looking for?"

Sitting in the drawing room, curtains opened to let the summer light in and warm the room, it is typically the perfect cozy spot that will soothe any racing thoughts Izuku would have. 

And she has them a lot. It’s just this time, for some reason, the sunlight has been pissing her off the more Shouto's words bounce around her head. 

What is she looking for?

Izuku has always been criticized by her fellow women of the ton for always having her head shoved in a book, too busy digging around in the dirt and running off to who knows where (sometimes spotted with no chaperonage whatsoever), to really take notice of any of the perfectly fine eligible bachelors around her. 

It wasn't up until recently that she had finally pried herself from her wallflower status that had begun to become expected from her at balls or small parties.

(Kacchan said that people found it creepy how she'd just stare at people from across halls and mutter to herself while writing in her invisible notebook at one of these events. Izuku said that it was only the ones that had rare flowers in their hairs. Kacchan said that she would marry fertilizer before she married anyone who'd put up with her stalker notes.)

Shaking her head from these thoughts, Izuku leaves the bay window where she'd been sitting since early morning. She was absentmindedly drawing the flowers from the house across the street. The family there  is having a wedding celebration, so the front of the lovely brick home is decorated prettily with draping hydrangeas, all beautiful shades of soft purples, a perfect theme for a wedding in the city. 

Izuku's focus deepens onto the paper in her sketchbook, suddenly wanting extreme preciseness. Izuku's thoughts have been focused on weddings, how could they not after Kacchan's scheme and her hiccup with Shouto? 

Izuku knows what she's looking for. 

She wants a wedding, preferably in her garden back home in the country. City weddings are too stuffy with too many stressors that don’t belong at a ceremony like that. 

If Izuku had half a mind, she knows that Kacchan would insist on taking over wedding planning, on Izuku's end. She'd claim that Izuku's tastes are too nerdy or too mundane, but she'd secretly try to incorporate as much as Izuku wants, even if it truly ends up being better without them. She'd want to pick out the color scheme, the best dress style, the best of anything. It is a part of her promise, though not spoken explicitly. 

And, if Kacchan wants to take control of Izuku's wedding, she knows that she'd let her. But if Izuku could have one thing, she wants to be in charge of the floral arrangements. 

Rugosas are frequent in Kacchan's garden and always looked very beautiful next to the apple blossoms before they were in full bloom. Too much pink though. Kacchan would want something more…complimentary…

"Izuku?"

Izuku is shaken from her thoughts. 

"Mother." 

Izuku's mother is smaller in her older age. From towering over her when Izuku was a young girl, up until she hit her first ten years, she now had to look down to meet her mother's gaze. Not by much, but definitely not what it used to be. She is plumper, but she doesn’t let that stop her from indulging in the same fashions and styles and elegance as the other mamas of the ton. 

"Are you alright, dearest?" she asks as she looks up from her embroidery. Izuku can faintly see that the pattern is lilacs. Her mother's personal favorite.

Izuku smiles pleasantly. "Of course, Mama."

The two of them often find themselves sitting in this room together, used to long days anxiously awaiting suitors that never arrived to days where they would indulge in Izuku's odd tendencies to talk about the latest boxing matches featured in the gossip columns that Inko had never found herself enjoying by herself. 

Inko returns to her stitching. "You have been quite silent today, are you sure there's nothing going on in that wonderful brain of yours?" 

Izuku rests her sketch pad against her knees from where she lay on the couch facing her. "Mama, I am. I just…have a feeling that this season will be different from the others. Maybe this will finally be the year 

Inko hums in acknowledgement. 

"And what of Katsuki, dear? I know that Mitsuki has been quite persistent in finding someone to finally "tame" her. But I think we both know that is a talent that not too may people possess." 

Izuku smiles at her. 

"We both know no one can "tame" Kacchan. She's so sure of herself and has her own way of making herself in this world. I doubt there's anyone that can seriously tell her what to do, even persuasion wise." 

This earns her a small side-eyed glance from her mother. She responds with a thoughtful look and a secretive smile. 

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, dear." 

Before Izuku can question her too much on what that means, their drawing room door opens and one of their footmen walks through. 

"Miss Bakugou is here to call on you, Miss." 

Izuku knows that they would officially start "courting" today, but that doesn't settle her nerves as much as she hoped it would. She is slightly aware of all the tiny imperfections in her appearance. Her hair feels like its sticking up more than usual, does her dress seem too tight, does she smell?

The door opens once more, Kacchan walking in quickly afterwards. 

"Shouldn't we be out promenading with everyone else, in a park perhaps?" Izuku asked after they left the tea shop the day before. "I don't think people will even know you're trying to "court me" if you come calling."

"Think about it, Izuku," Katsuki said as she looked over her shoulder, Izuku following her gaze, watching Aimi and Kacchan's personal maid walking paces behind the two of them. 

"We're always being watched. Especially now. If we want to actually have people thinking and talking about us, we have to act like it. Words have just as much power as our actions do, if not more."

"Miss Midoriya. " 

She snaps out of her thoughts as Kacchan stands in front of her. She's dressed like she does every day: a light pink high-waisted dress, the embroidered flowers with tiny leaves decorated the bottom of the skirt. A little un-Kacchan like, but she looks every part an expectant and eager debutant. 

Izuku bows politely. Another great move if her mother's smug smile had anything to go by it. 

"Miss Bakugou, I want to thank you for agreeing to my coming here this afternoon." 

Izuku finds herself chuckling into her hand, too amused by Bakuou's unusual formality. 

"And it is quite an honor to have you in our home, indeed." Izuku shifts and gestures to their plush couches in the back of their room. "Shall we sit?" 

Kacchan nods as she follows her and sits gently beside her. 

"Your gardens," Kacchan starts as she looks her straight in they eye, "are quite beautiful, if I must say so. This season tends to be one of my favorites, as you may know, since it is the time where all these lovely flowers are in such vibrant bloom." 

Izuku nods. 

"Yes, indeed. And as you may know, my family has quite the affliction for lovely flowers, many of them rare. They are there to remind me, and us, in fact, how beauty comes in all forms, some more silent than others. I like to look out my windows every morning and be treated by the lovely sight they present me with." 

"What an insightful answer, Miss Midoriya. I know few who have such an appreciation for floras such as yourself. That is why I thought that you may enjoy my gift I acquired." 

She motions to her lady's maid, who then goes towards the doors. She opens them and then a parade of flowers Izuku has never seen before come waltzing in, carried by several of the Bakugou family's staff. 

"These," Miss Bakugou states as she stands, "I thought you might find of interest." 

"Oh, my, these are…?" 

"Anzu and sakurasō, Miss Midoriya." She takes a vase and hands one to Izuku. There seem to be two types of flowers in the bouquet. One type are many tiny blooms of light, pink flowers that quite match the dress Kacchan wears. The others are a deeper purple on stems rather than branches. "From our mothers' home, I'm rather pleased to say. It was…quite the difficulty securing them." 

Izuku can hear a small inhale her mother makes from the other side of the room where she sits to observe the both of them. It sounds muffled from the rushing sound that filled her head. 

Kacchan looks almost, if not downright, bashful. Another new, unfamiliar look that seems almost so genuine it has Izuku forgetting their ploy. If only for a moment. 

Although, Izuku finds that if it were not such the case, she would not have minded. 

"I would be most honored, if it pleases not only you but the Baroness, would allow these flowers to find permanent residence in your garden, I will be quite content to know that they will not only be well taken care of, but soon to find its place and fully blossom, as one of your family does quite well, I must add." 

"Why, Katsuki," Inko gasps as one of the bouquets finds its way into her lap. She sits admiring the blossoms, turning them over this way and that. "I haven't seen these since I was around your age." 

Kacchan smiles kindly. 

"I saw them in a book, one of the many I found in my own Mama's personal library." 

She turns to Inko. "She told me how beautiful they bloomed back home. I hope they are just as beautiful here as they are from their homeland." 

Izuku nods. "I will make sure of it myself, Miss Bakugou. I will tend to them with my best ability." 

"And what a persistent ability you have of that indeed. I should know." 

It's easy. To find ease in Kacchan's presence. 

Izuku believes that she cannot find that kind of comfort in anyone else. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀

Izuku also believes that their scheme is becoming quite an agreeable endeavor. 

Market days tend to be full of buzz and excitement. It's rare that Izuku finds herself in these spaces as often as she used to. 

Markets have always been quite the hot spot and breeding ground for gossip. 

Evident shown by all the glances that are cast Izuku's way as she passes through the crowded street. All the more to attract more than one's own personal interest. 

"Lord Todoroki!" 

This time, she manages to stop before hitting him from behind. Quite hard to do with all the bustling around them. 

"Miss Midoriya." He bows his head slightly. "I did not expect tyo see you here, so early in the morning." 

Izuku scoffs easily. "When have you ever known me to go out to market late?" 

Shouto shrugs. "Never, I assume. I just find it surprising that Miss Bakugou is not out dragging you along behind her. Especially after the house call she made just the other day." 

Izuku feels a heat rise to her cheeks. 

"Well, Kacchan is  quite a welcomed visitor in our home, my lord." 

A smile quirks his lips as he studies her. "Although, I must say, it’s not what I was expecting, especially from a couple that has already decided their engagement. " 

Izuku is sure the expression she makes is quite unattractive. 

"You…remember that, do you?" 

Shouto grins devilishly. "I must apologize. It's not everyday two young, fine ladies like the two of you find themselves in such unprecedented situations." 

Groaning, Izuku hangs her head. 

Shouto offers out his arm which Izuku takes begrudgingly. 

"You must forgive what I said the other day, it was merely a slip of the tongue." 

"I'm sure. You must forgive me for assuming that Bakugou would be anything less than a suitable partner." 

Izuku watches the man as they pass by stalls of fur, exotic goods, and Izuku's favorite luxury: foreign books. 

She finds herself drifting towards a large pile on the counter. 

"You shall have to take that to her, my lord," she says as she examines one on flowers closely. "Though, if she hears that you doubt any part of her pursuits of any sort, you shall find yourself wishing you had said nothing at all." 

"That you are right." He comes beside her, picking through the same pile of books as the vendor pretends to busy himself with another, less interested customer. "From the letters I received from her last, I was not expecting such a match at all." 

"You and Kacchan…exchanged letters?" 

Shouto nods. "Yes. In fact, I was sure that you would be the first to know about your conversations, as little as you two seem to be apart." 

Izuku bites her lip in a way she hopes does not seem as juvenile as she feels. 

"Kacchan and I are close, yes. But I think that she and I have grown from the days where we must be together at every waking moment. That is more for young girls barely out of leading strings." 

Shouto hums in acknowledgement. "I'd agree. But you two have found a way to always be within each other's orbit. A ball here, a festival there, the two of you are never far from each other. I fear that has made the both of you so hard to reach a marriage agreement." 

Izuku looks up at him. "You think so?" 

"Think so? I know so." 

The vendor approaches them as they hand them their selections. 

"Ah, don't worry, I shall take care of this," Shouto says, digging into his pocket and pulling out a couple of silvers. "Thank you," Shouto replies as they walk away with their newest purchases. 

"As I was saying before, Midoriya, I know that many men in this society have been eyeing a chance at your hand, or maybe Bakugou's. The two of you hardly seem to pay any mind to anyone outside the two of you, so it was always hard to show affection without drawing the other one's ire." 

"Ire?" 

"Why—Do not tell me that you have not noticed how up in arms the two of you become when someone dares to encroach on either one of you? How volatile Bakugou becomes or how icy you turn? It's almost scary enough that I find myself petrified just thinking about Bakugou's reaction to knowing I was even speaking to you at this moment." 

"You jest." 

"I do not," He suddenly stops to face her and Izuku looks back at mismatched eyes that have grown serious from their playfulness just moments ago. 

"The two of you are quite unbreakable in your bond, I'll have you know. It is rare, in fact, to find a bond so strong as the two of you share." 

He takes her gloves hands into his bare ones. 

"A love like the two of you have is something only one as lucky as I can only hope to find. Do well in cherishing it well." 

"Shouto, I must ask—"

"Izuku!" 

Izuku's head snaps in the direction of the shout. 

"K-Kacchan! Good morning, I'm surprised to see you out so early—"

"I am always early. Now, come, Izuku, we have plans today, do we not?" She offers out a leading arm as Izuku releases her hands from Shouto's grip. 

"Yes." She laughs nervously. "Of course." She walks away, keeping Shouto's eyes that follow the both of them, and leaving him to stand in the center of the square. 

Izuku knows what she can admit herself to honesty. And, in her honesty, finds herself at a crossroads. For one, Shouto is right. The two of them have a bond forged in the twenty and more years they have spent at each other's side. Both good and bad. It is in both they have found the most comfort in. And maybe Izuku can admit that when they were younger, she was rather…possessive of Kacchan's attentions. But, surely no less than Katsuki's. 

Right? 

As the two of them trudge through the streets amid the crowd, Izuku realizes that she quite likes when Kacchan grips her hands tighter, that her brows furrow deeper, how she becomes so much like the petulant and demanding child she never really truly grew out of being. 

Kacchan saw victory in keeping Izuku's gaze on her. 

Izuku saw victory in making Katsuki want that. 

She gives Kacchan's gloved hands a small squeeze as they make their way out of the marketplace and out into more spacious streets. 

She quite enjoys playing courtship a tad longer. Maybe it will attract more suitors. 

Maybe it will deter more.