Chapter Text
14th April 1776, Vignes, Lymeis
Izuku stood in the glowing light of the rising sun, carefully brushing his horse’s fur. Since before dawn, Izuku worked, packing the carriage of all his mother and his belongings. His home, usually so bright and lively, felt cold and empty. The shutters were closed tight and the lamps were unlit. Even more unusual, the house was clean. Izuku couldn’t help but feel sorrow as he gazed upon the drab building. It wasn’t much, but it had been his home.
His mother, Inko Midoriya, had gone into the city to finalize the sale of the house. She would drop off the keys to the new owners and meet him back here. They would then make their way to their new home, in a village a few hours from the capital. It wasn’t ideal for either of them, but it was inevitable. Hisashi Midoriya, Izuku’s father, was a merchant and had been the household’s main source of income. He was rarely around, always traveling. A year earlier, he left them for good, having found a new woman to spend his life with. Inko had been devastated, inconsolable. Izuku hurt for his mother but couldn’t bring himself to be surprised. Hisashi hadn’t been much of a father or a husband, apart from the money he regularly sent home.
Soon after, the money stopped coming. Inko worked herself to the bone, sewing till dusk and pricking her fingers to support herself and her son. Their loyal customers, the Todoroki and the Yaoyorozu family, were kind, but not enough. Izuku worked in the stables, washed dishes and scrubbed floors. The cost of living was just too high for them here. They were forced to sell the house. They packed their lives into their luggage and said their goodbyes. Shoto, the youngest of the Todoroki family and Izuku’s best friend, was sad to see them go. He offered to house them, pay with his father’s riches, but Izuku declined with a laugh. Momo, the only child of the wealthy Yaoyorozu couple, hugged him goodbye and sent his off with a basket of pastries.
Izuku finished up prepping his horse, Philippe, and settled into the carriage, his eyes dropping to his lap, where he held that same basket tightly. His thumb grazed at the red ribbon wound around it, tied into a bow with such precision and care. He would miss them dearly.
“Izuku!” Inko Midoriya greeted, smiling warmly at her son. She walked down the street, stopping to pet Philippe, who nuzzled against her.
“Maman.” Izuku smiled, his hands falling from the basket. “Are we ready to go?”
“Yes. I dropped off the keys and spoke to the new owners. Such a nice couple.” She took Izuku’s offered hand, pulling herself into the carriage. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, glancing at the newly sold house. “Are you ready, dear?”
Izuku nodded, spurring Philippe on. They set off for their new home, the village of Côte-Vigneulle.
“We best be careful on the road. I heard the royal family of Galles is visiting the castle today. Their daughter, the princess, is set to marry Prince Katsuki, did you know? What a lovely union it will be for our country.” Inko spoke, filling the silence with gossip she’d heard in the city. Izuku listened, maneuvering the carriage out of the city, waving to the occasional neighbor with a small smile. Izuku had never been too concerned with politics, often too busy with his own research and education. The limited information he received from Shoto on the subject hardly interested him, especially paired with Shoto’s own disinterest. Enji Todoroki, a rich noble, was a head advisor to the country and wanted Shoto to follow in his footsteps. Shoto, for his part, had other aspirations, which never failed to cause an argument in the Todoroki household.
Despite his lacking knowledge, Izuku held a vague memory of the prince. The royal family had left their immense castle and visited the capital once, a couple years back. Izuku remembers spotting a small child like himself through the crowd, standing behind the king and queen. Prince Katsuki. A blonde, red-eyed boy with a harsh glare. His mother had placed a hand on his head, perhaps a warning, and the prince had finally lifted a hand to wave back to the gathered citizens. He looked mean, and from the stories that Izuku heard around town, he wasn’t so far off. Although, his fans weren’t scared off so easily. The prince’s status and looks made up for the social handicap. Katsuki Bakugo was rumored to be beautiful, having grown into a fine young man with a raging temper problem.
Izuku nodded along as his mother rambled, a habit he’d obviously picked up from her, the trees passing them as they traveled further east. As they neared the village, Izuku wondered how they would fit into this new place, how they would settle into this new routine. Would the villagers frown upon his unusual hobbies, too? Spending his days holed up in the library and running off into the woods were hardly proper. Despite his humble upbringing, Izuku dreamed of more. He wanted to travel the world, to learn new languages and experience everything the world had to offer. He scavenged in the woods for plants and flowers, sketching his findings in his notebooks. With his meager salary, Izuku always made sure to buy a notebook every couple weeks. They filled up so quick. Izuku couldn’t help but document each discovery. The cogs of his mind were always spinning, keeping him curious.
In this new town, he doubted he would find anyone as dear as Shoto and Momo, but perhaps he would find new friends. People who were interested in the same things as him. Maybe his mother would meet new acquaintances too, someone to gossip and sew with. Even someone to love. In the capital, Inko had been too busy to consider looking, but perhaps this new environment could spark something for her. Izuku loved his mother dearly and wanted nothing but her happiness. Beneath her smiles, Izuku notices a sadness lingering. A certain loneliness. Meeting someone could possibly rid her of that heavy burden. So, with a newfound hope, the Midoriya carriage crossed the border of Côte-Vigneulle.
Katsuki huffed as his seamstress hovered, prodding him with needles. He stood on a wooden block, in front of an assortment of mirrors as she worked, marking where his suit needed to be hemmed or tightened. He needed to look good for his future wife and make the princess of Galles swoon and faint or whatever dumb thing Ashido had previously said. Of course, this was only one of the hundreds of suits he had prepared for these meetings. This specific suit was only for his birthday party in a week, where the princess would be in attendance. The fashion thing was so stupid, Katsuki thought. All these suits look the same, don’t they? He glanced at his door, making sure his mother wasn't nearby. If she knew what he was thinking, he'd never hear the end of it. Sure, his thoughts were private, but Katsuki sometimes believed his mother was a mind-reader. A fashion obsessed mind-reader.
“Oi, watch it!” He growled, flinching as another needle almost pierced through his skin. The seamstress, a pale, short-haired girl, smiled, looking up at the prince on her knees, a pin held between her teeth. She tugged on his pant leg, adjusting her grip.
“Désolé, mon prince.”
“I should get you fired, tch.” Katsuki mumbled, sending a sharp glare to the other through the mirror. Mina Ashido giggled, either unaware or, most likely, uncaring of the pointed glare aimed at her back. Most of the servants in the castle were used to the prince’s behavior, although none toed the line quite like she did. Most days, she seemed to actively try to rile him up, amused by his reactions. No matter how much he insisted they weren’t friends, that he, the crown prince of Lymeis, was her superior, she never stopped. Eventually, Katsuki stopped trying and told himself he simply didn’t care. He wasn’t really friends with her, he thought as he suppressed a smirk while she dropped the pin from her mouth, swearing as she crawled after it.
A knock resounded through the room as someone opened the door to his chambers. Eijiro Kirishima, the knight in charge of Katsuki’s protection, walked in, sending a crooked smile to Ashido before turning to the prince. In his peripheral vision, Katsuki saw Mina freeze, her eyes imperceptibly wider and a blush rising to her cheeks.
“Kats, the guests have arrived at the castle walls. Your mother sent me to fetch you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be right there.”
Eijiro walked out, closing the door softly. Katsuki smirked at his flustered seamstress, now pulling herself off the floor, dusting off her skirt. He hummed, teasing.
“Too distracted to finish my suit, raccoon eyes? I might really have to fire you…”
“Oh shush, you. I’ll prick you.” She approaches, an unmistakable flush on her face. She quickly helps the prince out of the modified suit and into a new one. The suit she’d been measuring was hung on her arm as she finally bowed and wished him luck.
“Don’t be such a brat tonight, mon prince.”
Or tried to wish him luck, in her own, terrible way.
“Go fuck yourself, Ashido.”
Alone, he glanced at himself in the mirror, pulling at his collar. This was so stupid. He didn’t need a wife. But his country needed a queen, he reminded himself. He ran a hand through his short blonde hair, sticking out every which way. Katsuki had long since given up on flattening it, every strand just as stubborn as he was. With a last look, he spun, stepping off the block and making his way to the door where Eijiro was waiting for him, a dumb smile on his face.
“C’mon, shitty hair. Let’s go.” The prince barked out, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they made their way to the foyer. Katsuki glanced at the knight, noting the glimmer in his eyes. Mina had most likely spoken to him. Those two idiots. Infatuated idiots.
With each step towards the foyer, Katsuki tensed. His posture corrected itself, years of training and lessons adjusting his behavior. His hands left his pockets, making fists at his sides. As much as he hated- well, disliked- those idiots, he couldn’t help but feel envious. They clearly loved each other. No matter how his parents spun it, his marriage was to be one of convenience. Arranged and unfeeling. Through the years, the prince and the princess would nurture a sense of respect for each other, but nothing more. They would rule side by side, bound together by duty.
Eijiro, always so perceptive, felt Katsuki’s nervousness wash over them. Contrary to his usual banter, he walked beside the prince in silence. Katsuki felt grateful – ugh, barf – since he wouldn’t even know what to say. All his energy was being used to combat his pressing need to flee. Between fight or flight, Katsuki almost always leaned towards fight, but he could hardly fight his wife, could he? His mother would kill him.
Soon, the pair stood before the closed doors leading to the foyer. Eijiro glanced at his unwilling friend, clapping his back in what he hopes is encouragement. Katsuki rolls his eyes, his lips pulling into a small smile involuntarily. He schools his expression back to nonchalance as Kirishima straightens up, pulling the immense door open for the crown prince. Katsuki stepped over the threshold, feeling as regal as a wet dog as his gaze zeroes in on the princess of Galles, Ryuko Shinya. She looked beautiful, every strand of hair pulled up to perfection, but no amount of jewelry or makeup can hide the nervousness on her face. The prince saw right through her façade, because it so resembled his own. The sounds around him blur as if underwater as he walks up to his parents’ side, bowing to the Shinya family. His hands loosen slightly as Masaru placed a comforting hand on his back.
“Welcome to the château Mont-Vignes, monsieur Raito, madame Himari.” Katsuki nods politely to the king and queen. They hadn’t held back, dressed in their finest clothes for this meeting. Expensive and prominent jewelry hung from the woman’s neck and ears, and the kings suit screamed wealthy. Katsuki turns towards Ryuko, who is watching him shyly. She wore a deep blue gown, gold accents peppered throughout the fabric. Her jewelry was more subdued than her mother’s but left no doubt as to who she is. Her brown hair was tied onto an intricate braid, rolled into a bun on her nape. Her dark eyes sparked, underlined with makeup that highlighted her features well. She is undeniably gorgeous. Katsuki took her small, soft hand into his, pressing a kiss to the knuckles.
“Bonjour, madame Ryuko. You are resplendent tonight.” He complimented, his throat bobbing imperceptibly as he swallowed.
“Thank you, prince Katsuki. As are you.” She responded, bowing her head in respect.
Katsuki’s mother, Mitsuki, then took the lead. “Well, I trust your trip has been pleasant, oui? Come, we shall eat in the dining hall. We can continue our conversation more comfortably.”
She and Masaru lead the way, the king and queen of Galles following closely. Katsuki offers an arm to Ryuko, tensing as she accepts it. Walking behind the group, Katsuki feels a glare on him. He looks back, his eyes meeting a man’s gaze. He was dressed well, wearing the signature blue of Galles. He’d came with the royal family, so he must’ve been important in some way. He looked at Katsuki almost angrily, diverting his gaze as soon as he was caught. Katsuki turned back, unbothered. Whatever, someone like him couldn’t even touch him.
“Y-your country is beautiful.” Ryuko spoke up quietly, looking ahead. Katsuki hummed disinterestedly in response. He remembers his duty as prince of Lymeis and Mina final words before adding: “Thank you.”
The walk to the dining room is quiet, Ryuko having seemingly given up on conversation. Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to care. He wasn’t known to be very chatty, anyway.
The families settle across from each other at the dining table, enjoying course after course as the rulers discussed the lives and futures of their children. Katsuki and Ryuko didn’t interact, other than a few polite comments or a “could you please pass the salt”. All in all, it was horrible. Katsuki fidgeted in his chair, desperate to finally leave. Nearing the end of the soirée, King Raito Shinya spoke up, snapping his fingers at the man who’d glared at him earlier, whom Katsuki hadn’t noticed was in the room.
“My head advisor has drafted up a contract for the union of our countries through the marriage of young Katsuki and my dear Ryuko. Every detail has been thoroughly decided by my council. We’d like your input, as to be able to sign it on the day of the marriage.”
The head advisor walked up to the table and took out a folder from his coat, sliding it towards my parents. He bowed his head respectfully before backing away to his original spot, although Katsuki is sure he felt his eyes look over him. The prince’s jaw ticks, what was with this guy?
Mitsuki takes the folder, pawning it off to our own head advisor, Enji Todoroki. Masaru smiles kindly, nodding. “We will look over it.” He picks up his glass of champagne, lifting it up. He gives Katsuki a smile. “To our children and their engagement!”
The clinks of the glasses hitting makes him flinch, before Katsuki downs his drink in one go. Just like that, his fate is sealed. All organized and planned, in one tiny little folder
15th April 1776, Vignes, Lymeis
The royal family of Galles were set to stay in Vignes for a week, till the morning after prince Katsuki’s birthday. Then, Ryuko would return to her country. And in three months time, she would return, wearing a white dress and handing Katsuki a ring akin to a death sentence.
Or maybe not. Katsuki can be a little dramatic sometimes.
“You idiot! Get up and fight me, damn it!”
“Kats- you- huff- It’s like- huff, oh shit- way too early for this!” Kirishima panted, dropping his head onto the hard ground. His clothes were askew and soaked through with perspiration, his armor discarded somewhere nearby. His sword had flown a couple meters away, planted in the ground.
“Seriously man, I’m beat. This was supposed to be my day off, y’know.” Denki Kaminari chirps, watching the fight from the side of the arena, sat on a bench. He fanned himself, clutching his side, still hurting from his first round against Katsuki.
Katsuki growls, lifting his sword and pointing it to the lazy guard. “You, shut up. You’re next, imbécile.”
Denki lifts his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, sorry. I’m quiet. Forget I’m here.”
“Betrayed by my own kin! The brotherhood! You’ve broken it! What about your pledge, huh? No soldier left behind? Was it all a lie?” Kirishima wheezes, clutching his heart like it hurt him. He reached out to Denki. “Save me... ow!”
Katsuki’s eye twitches, kicking Eijiro’s arm away, albeit softly compared to his earlier hits. “You’re both morons. Why do I even try.”
He walks away, jaw clenched tight as he wiped off his sword expertly. Eijiro props himself up on his elbows, watching him carefully. Sharing a look of understanding with Denki, he got up, risking his own life to ask the question on both their minds. Denki went back to the storage room, knowing it was best to let Kirishima take charge when Katsuki was in one of his moods.
“Hey. Kats. Are you okay? You want to talk about it, man?”
“There’s nothing to say, shitty hair. Back off.”
“C’mon, you only drag us to these spurs of the moment, ass crack of dawn training sessions when you have something on your mind. Spill.”
“I don’t have to tell you shit.”
How is Katsuki supposed to admit that he was scared? How Katsuki Bakugo, the crown prince of Lymeis, the brightest strategist and talented swordsman, was scared? Scared of marriage. How pathetic. How could he explain what he had felt last night? How every time he looked at the princess, he felt sick to his stomach. He felt angry. He doesn’t need a wife to rule. He would most likely be better without her. Katsuki had always worked better alone. Of course, as prince of Lymeis, it is his duty to continue the royal bloodline, to allow his kingdom to prosper. Stubborn as he might be, that is something Katsuki cannot do alone. Despite knowing this, the thought of intimacy with that girl makes Katsuki want to swing his sword right into his stomach. She wasn’t right. She was beneath him. She didn’t fit. Katsuki was by no means a romantic (or so he claims), but a life partner shouldn’t make him feel so shitty. Ryuko was beautiful but lacked everything else Katsuki valued. She was timid and shied away from a challenge. Every comment from Katsuki, even the tamest, made her frown and curl up into herself. She had no backbone. The people around Katsuki had the audacity to tell him to be nicer, to soothe her. He was nice! It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t take it.
Even worse, her little guard dog, the head advisor – who Katsuki had learned was named Jin something or whatever – was always staring. It pissed Katsuki off. Such blatant disrespect towards a member of the royal family couldn’t be tolerated. Or perhaps he was blowing this out of proportion. That’s ridiculous. Katsuki was always calm and level-headed. Something about that guy just rubbed him wrong. Always on the princess’s heels, like a dog, he practically growled whenever Katsuki spoke.
Eijiro stood on the side as Katsuki finally sheathed his sword, watching the prince carefully. Usually, that tone of voice would make servants scatter, lest they attract his wrath, but Eijiro knew better. His friend was hurting. He camouflaged his fears with his anger, acting rashly. The palace staff often whispered through the halls that he was too quick to anger. That Katsuki was not fit to be king. That he would soon turn the kingdom to ruin. Kirishima frowned when he overheard those words. Those people didn’t truly know Katsuki. They were turned away by the immense walls he put up around himself. Eijiro peered over that wall. He saw Katsuki’s passion, bleeding into every punch hew threw. He saw Katsuki’s determination to prove himself, to support his nation. Katsuki cared so loudly, but his anger was louder. Most didn’t care to see past his rude comments or his crown.
Eijiro put his arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. The prince was starring in the distance, his features framed by the golden hues of the rising sun.
“I know you don’t have to tell me. I’m here if you want to talk, though. You’re not alone, man.”
“...Fine.” Katsuki huffed, “Thanks.” He mumbled, pushing Eijiro’s arm off. Kirishima laughed, ruffling his blonde hair.
Katsuki acts quick, grabbing his wrist tightly. “Don’t touch me.” Eijiro was hardly put off by his strict tone, nodding solemnly.
“Yes, your highness.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
15th April 1776, Côte-Vigneulles, Lymeis
Izuku woke peacefully, the sun shining down on him through his open curtains. The day before, they’d arrived at Côte-Vigneulles at noon. The rest of the day had been spent unpacking, settling into their new home. Izuku had herded Philippe into his new stable, allowing the hard-working horse a well-deserved rest.
The house, a quaint little family home, sat on the outskirts of the village. Izuku couldn’t hear any of the usual hustle and bustle he was used to in the city. This was… calm. Izuku could learn to enjoy this, in time.
Bidding goodbye to his mother, Izuku set off into town. He walked on the side of the dirt road, enjoying the fresh air and the melodic chirps that followed him through the trees. He let Philippe stay in for the day. The old horse would be useless for a while. His satchel was slung over his chest, empty and swinging at his hip. Today, he would complete his chores, bringing back fresh food from the market. He would explore, maybe find the library. He hadn’t read anything new in a while, anyway. Maybe this place could offer him new novels to study. It would be an opportunity to get to know the village and its residents.
He felt a bit out of place, standing before the town market. Here, it was noisier and busy. The entire village seemed to have gathered, exchanging greetings and goods. The women chattered as the children squealed, running across the town square gleefully. The men exchanged pleasantries, shaking familiar hands. Merchants lugged around their provisions, speaking comfortably with their customers. This was clearly routine. These people grew up together; spoke with an undeniable familiarity you just couldn’t find in the capital. Izuku was an outsider. A new face, walking through the busy square clumsily, bumping into strangers. He was disrupting the village’s natural order. Izuku, sheepish, muttered out an apology with each graze of a shoulder.
He’d painfully made his way to a farmer’s booth, where the bald man was selling fresh vegetables and fruit. Izuku wiped his hands on his pants, gripping his satchel strap tightly and clearing his throat.
“Bon matin, monsieur!” he greeted, sending a small smile to the man. The farmer tipped his hat, responding in kind with a smile.
“Bonjour, garçon. It’s not everyday we get a new face around here. Are you passing by?”
“My mother and I just moved in town yesterday. Could I get some carrots and potatoes? Avec un casseau de bleuets, s’il-te-plait.” Izuku explained, pointing at the fresh food he wished to bring home.
The man hummed, packing his groceries slowly, looking over Izuku carefully. “That accent... You’re a city boy, aren’t you? From the great capital. Why would you move to this hole of a town?”
“Change of scenery.” Izuku shrugged, passing a few coins to the man and grabbing his purchases. “Merci beaucoup.” He thanked with a smile.
“Je t’en prie. Welcome to Côte-Vigneulles, boy.”
Izuku walked away, his gaze roaming the square. He would need to find meat, next. He spotted a booth across the market, slowly making his way through the crowd. Just as he crossed the middle of the square, someone ran into him, seemingly chasing after another.
“Yu Takeyama! Don’t walk away from me!” The man bellowed, not even sparing poor Izuku a glance as he shoved him aside. The girl he was chasing, Yu Takeyama, turned around, her pretty features molding into a frown.
“Goto, you big brute! Don’t just shove people like that! And stop following me, while you’re at it,” She huffed, crossing her arms.
“I would, if you’d just listen to me! Stop running from this, you know I’m right. We are meant for each other, mon amour. Nobody else can match my looks except for you, gorgeous.” The burly man confessed, his gaze set on the young blonde woman, who seemed wholly unimpressed.
“I won’t marry you, espèce d’abruti superficiel!” She hissed, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
“You will soon change your mind, dear. You are just confused and hysterical, is all. You know you are mine.”
Izuku mumbles from his spot on the ground, pulling himself off the ground. “I believe calling her hysterical is not doing you any favors…”
“What was that, scum?” The man’s pointed gaze finally turned to him, his jaw clenching in annoyance. Goto puffed up his chest, cracking his knuckles in a show of intimidation. “You mind your own business. Who even are you? You must be new. Nobody’s taught you your place, yet.” He smirked dangerously.
Izuku swallowed back his fear stirring inside him. This man reminded Izuku of his old bullies back home. Big, rich kids who thought they owned the world and deserved everything. They made fun of Izuku, his skinny arms and girly hobbies. They made fun of his mother, who must have chased away her husband, since Izuku’s father was always absent. Theories and rumors they’d overheard their parents mention. Their parents gossiped, most people did. Inko Midoriya’s marital status was always popular topic in their social circle. Inko always put on a brave face, but Izuku could see how it had gotten to her, the hurtful offhand comments. Izuku was angry but wasn’t strong enough to face those rude boys, to defend his mother. He cowered. Later, he vowed to never run again. He’d grown from being that small boy and would stand up for what’s right, finally defend himself. Izuku stood tall, lifting his chin to meet the man’s eyes.
“You don’t scare me. In fact, all I see is a desperate, whiny man throwing a tantrum because he didn’t get what he wanted.”
“why you-“
“Goto Imasuji! Stop this! If you fight him, I will certainly never marry you!” The girl exclaimed. Stepping between Izuku and the tall brute. Goto growled and spit on the ground, spinning around and pushing past the crowd as he stalked away. The girl shook her head disapprovingly, turning to face a surprised Izuku. Annoyed by the villagers who’d gathered to watch the spectacle, she grabbed Izuku’s wrist, tugging him along.
“Viens. Let’s find somewhere quieter.”
Izuku let her lead, finding himself in a quiet side street, walking alongside the blonde girl. She looked a little older than he was, her cream-coloured dress brushing past her ankles with each step.
“That dick… thinks I owe him something… ugh.” She muttered angrily before finally planting her feet into the ground. She turns towards Izuku, letting go of his wrist, which reddened due to her tight grasp.
“I’m sorry about him. He’s very prideful and frankly spoiled. He doesn’t take rejection well.”
Izuku laughed quietly, rubbing his wrist, trying to coax his circulation back into his hand. “Yeah, seems like it.”
“He thinks he’s special. I flirt with tons of men, but it’s like he believes I owe him something. So what if he bought me dinner once? That doesn’t mean I’m tied to him forever; it’s hardly a declaration of marriage. Every man in this town has bought me dinner. And I don’t feel guilty. If you were as pretty as me, you would do the same. Stealing their hearts and draining their wallets. Otherwise, what are my looks for? Like I would ever settle for that idiot. Perhaps if he was handsomer…”
Izuku raised a brow, adjusting his satchel with a smile pulling at his lips. She sure knew how to get want she wanted. A little full of herself, but with good reason. She was beautiful, after all. She acted annoyed, but a glimmer in her eyes betrayed her true feelings. She enjoyed putting on such a dramatic show, making that man follow her directions. Good for her.
“And you’re not worried at all about telling me this?”
She looks Izuku up and down. “My targets are usually taller. And have fuller wallets.”
“Rude.”
She shrugs, unapologetic. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Izuku Midoriya. From what I understand, you’re Yu Takeyama, the town seductress, oui?”
She flips her hair over her shoulder, huffing. “I prefer the term “opportunist”, but yes, I suppose so. Did you just move here? I cannot fathom why someone would willingly subject themselves to this boring village. I, for one, would much rather live lavishly in the capital.”
Izuku smiles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m from there, actually.”
Yu’s eyes sparkle in interest. “Oh? Do you have any rich and handsome friends over there, my dear friend Izuku?”
Izuku shakes his head in disbelief, laughing. She sure was greedy.
“Au revoir, Yu Takeyama.”
“That’s not an answer!”
Izuku pushed the front door open, greeting his mother with an armful of groceries. He made quick work of putting it all away in the small kitchen. Inko walks up to him, pressing a kiss to her son’s cheek. She had been busy this morning, unpacking most of the luggage. The house already felt more like home, filled with their belongings. The mother and son fell into a comfortable routine as they prepared lunch side by side. Inko chattered idly, asking about the places he’d visited. “How was the market? Busy? Was the library to your liking? Oh, did you stop by the boutique? I’m quite excited to start working there. They seemed so nice in the acceptation letter I received!”
Settled at their rickety dinner table, Inko asked about Izuku’s blossoming social life. “Did you meet any new people today? Any friends yet?”
Izuku swallowed, smiling as he recalled his talk with Yu and her hunger for money as well as her guiltless actions. She’d called him a friend. Though it was a manipulation tactic, Izuku felt it wouldn’t be the last he heard of her. “Kind of. The people here are interesting, to say the least.”
Inko places her hand over Izuku’s, smiling warmly. “I hope you grow to enjoy it here. I’m sorry we moved so suddenly, Izuku, I know how happy you were…”
“Maman, it’s fine. I understand. It was out of your hands. I’ll be happy here too. With you.”
Inko squeezes her hand, her eyes welling up. A Midoriya trait, so quick to tears. “Je t’aime, chéri.”
“Je t’aime aussi, maman.”