Chapter Text
Eijiro had always felt at home in the darkness. It was a security blanket, keeping the rest of the world just out of view. Maybe it was the way he always felt just North of invisible—only seen through the lens of others picking apart his flaws; or maybe it was just the only time that he could really see the stars.
From the time he first learned to walk, he would end each night by climbing up to the roof of the hut he shared with his mother, where he’d lay quietly on the thatch, body slanted ever so slightly upward as he traced the constellations with his eyes: From Polaris to Cepheus, past Perseus and Capella, all the way down to Canis Major. Orion had always been his favorite—seven stars, all shining together to form The Hunter.
Living in Musutafu Village meant you were one of two things: a dragon hunter, or a nobody. Eijiro had been a nobody his whole life; and now, just one month shy of his sixteenth birthday, he was tired of it.
The ground kissed the soles of his shoes with a gentle thrum as he snuck up the hill to the lookout. It was late, the sun having long since set over the surrounding forest, and his black hair melted into the night as he pushed it back from over his eyes. He looked up, silently searching the sky for dragons.
Musutafu had been first overrun by dragons many moons ago, back when his great-great-great grandfather was first appointed chief; and while no one knew where they came from or why, the village would quickly adapt, writing books and training warriors to combat the pesky creatures. And now that the role of chief had made it all the way down to his mother, Eijiro had even bigger shoes to fill.
Two Night Terrors flew overhead just as he was approaching the top of the lookout, and he ducked down behind a tree, counting to five before standing once again. Night Terrors were on the weaker side when it came to dragons; but they were, as the name implied, stronger at night—and he didn’t want to risk starting a fight when the rest of the village was fast asleep.
With a few more steps and one small leap to get over the last stretch of rocks, he was at the top of Yue Hill: the highest point in the village, and the best spot for spotting dragons. The quiver of arrows he had slung over his shoulder thumped against his back as he came to a stop, looking up once more to survey the sky.
It was a crystal clear night, and Eijiro had an impeccable view of the stars—which was perfect, because tonight Eijiro had his heart set on a Night Fury.
Night Furies, as opposed to Night Terrors, were one of the most powerful dragons a viking could encounter. The rarest of the creatures, Night Furies were not only insanely strong, but incredibly smart and stealthy, too. They almost never appeared during the day, and anyone who did encounter one would have surely never lived to tell the tale.
Eijiro’s breath stilled in his throat as he approached the catapult his mom had built up on the peak. It was the perfect setup, allowing any weapon to be fixed to a rope and shot out at extremely high speeds, hopefully subduing anything it came in contact with—hopefully subduing a Night Fury. His ruby red eyes scanned the sky as he loaded his arrow into the machine with careful precision.
He would hear the dragon before he would see it, that much was for sure. Their roar was something of a shriek, high-pitched and deafening; it would be unmistakable. Sure enough, a few long moments later, he heard it.
Now came the hard part. He blinked once, and then again before scrunching his brows, analyzing the stars with a fervor that even he had never exhibited before. He scanned over every inch of the sky—slowly, then faster until at last, he saw it. Just for a moment, a small patch of stars disappeared, leaving nothing but inky blackness in their place. His eyes blew wide as he quickly lined up the shot, and—
Another shriek. An explosion of fire and lighting. He watched as the void plummeted down through the sky, a distant boom all but drowned out by the beating of his heart in his ears.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, hands falling to his knees as he caught his breath. “Holy shit, I did it!” His voice grew louder as did his excitement, and he lurched up suddenly, barely noticing the residual tremor of nerves in his arms as they formed a ‘V’ in the air. Victory.
“I did it!” He cheered again. “I got a… Night… Fury…” He trailed off as he heard a low growl sound from behind him, his celebration short-lived as he suddenly grew aware of an uncomfortable presence in the air. He turned slowly, breath catching in his throat as he caught sight of the giant Snaptrapper that was now perched directly above him. “Shit,” he breathed out, stumbling as he took a shaky step back.
The monster reared one of its four heads, lunging forward with a ferocity that sent Eijiro flying back, landing on his bottom with a harsh thud. The scream that was ripped from his throat was nothing short of primal as he scrambled to his feet, making a break for the rocky trail below.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed as the dragon trailed swiftly behind, stumbling over his own steps as he felt its hot breath prick the back of his neck, the distance between them beginning to close. “Help!” he screamed, using the decline of the hill plus all the energy he had to speed up even more. “Help me!”
“Eijiro!” A familiar voice shouted his name, and he was flooded with both relief and an overwhelming mortification as his mother came into view, eyes wild and axe already in hand. His mother, the chief. He didn’t have the wherewithal to worry about the other villagers that had begun filtering out of their homes as he dove past the woman’s muscular frame, wincing as his body connected with the dirt.
He turned just in time to see her axe come down hard on the space directly in the center of the dragons’ heads, effectively slicing the creature in half. The boy’s stomach lurched as blood seeped from the open wound, then again as he was suddenly hoisted up, his mother gripping him by the arms as she began to silently catalogue his every feature. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I- I’m fine, mom,” Eijiro stammered out, tugging himself slightly from her hold.
She let her arms fall exasperatedly to her sides. “What happened?” she questioned with dismay. “I thought you were asleep. What on Earth are you doing out here so late?”
Eijiro swallowed thickly, suddenly becoming hyperaware of the dozens of eyes on them. “I- I’m sorry, I was j-just up on the lookout, and I—” He paused, breath catching in his throat. “I saw a Night Fury, a-and I shot it down, but I—”
“A Night Fury? Ha!” A condescending voice came from behind him, and his heart sank in his chest as he turned towards the sound. Neito Monoma.
Eijiro didn’t hate anyone except himself, but there was something about Neito that really rubbed him the wrong way. One of the teens of the village who’d been deemed worthy enough to train as a dragon hunter, he had a big mouth and an even bigger ego. “Yeah, right,” he sneered. “No one’s ever caught a Night Fury—and you expect us to believe you managed it?” He laughed again, flicking his blond hair back in a way that made Eijiro irrationally angry.
“It’s true!” he cried out. “They’re hard to see, b-but if you look really close you can see them blotting out the stars. I hit it, and it— it fell down into the woods somewhere, w-we just have to—” He tried to explain, but murmurous chuckles once more broke out among the crowd, and his eyes stung as he looked around once again.
He was vaguely aware of his mom’s hand on his shoulder, barely constrained worry lacing a murmured “Eijiro,” in his ear, but he didn’t dare tear his eyes away from the group as he watched Neito continue to yuck it up with the rest of his dragon hunting peers.
His pupils scanned over each face, and his throat constricted painfully; the mocking jeers and looks of pity were too much to bear, and he forced himself to keep his gaze moving, ruby eyes just barely meeting crimson before they turned away entirely.
Katsuki Bakugo.
Katsuki was the opposite of Eijiro in every way: strong, smart, and a fierce dragon hunter. He had spent his entire childhood building the skills to be something great, and Eijiro knew if there was anyone in the village his mother would appoint to be the next chief, it wouldn’t be him—no, it would be Katsuki. Fiercely handsome, his bright blond hair contrasted nicely with his deep crimson eyes, drawing the attention and adoration of everyone who encountered him.
Okay, so Eijiro was head over heels for the guy. Whatever—it didn’t matter. From the time he was old enough to know what love was, he knew that Katsuki was it for him; but he also knew that Katsuki would never look at him that way. Eijiro was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. And Katsuki Bakugo was out of his league.
He swallowed thickly, forcing his focus back towards his mother, whose eyes were still boring into him with that same look of worry-meets-disappointment he’d seen so many times before. He drew in a sharp breath, blinking back his humiliation; he wouldn’t cry here. He spoke lowly. “Mom, I’m telling the truth, I—”
“Enough, Eijiro.” Her voice was soft, yet firm, leaving no room for debate. Eijiro swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding once; but he didn’t lift his head, instead leaving it to hang in shame. After a long moment, the woman’s voice sounded again. “Shouta,” she called the man’s name carefully, and Eijiro glanced up with trepidation. He blinked his gaze to the side to see Mr. Aizawa, the village’s dragon hunting instructor, approaching tiredly.
Mr. Aizawa had been one of his mom’s best friends for as long as he could remember. Back when Eijiro was born, he had two loving moms. Chief Rikiko and her wife Mayu were loved and respected by the people of the village—and while Rikiko had always been a tough and commanding presence, Mayu was often described as kind and gentle. At least, that’s what Eijiro had heard.
When he was still a baby, a massive horde of dragons attacked the village; it was remembered as one of the worst tragedies in their small town’s history. Musutafu lost a lot of good people that day, but the greatest loss was that of Mayu Kirishima, who was taken from their home while protecting Eijiro. He still had the scar—a tiny knick just above his right eye—and a constant reminder of the guilt he felt over something he couldn’t even remember.
Mr. Aizawa really stepped up when his mom disappeared, supporting his mother in a way that no one else had ever quite been able to measure up to—and he had been there for Eijiro, too, the best that he could; but Eijiro had never been in the habit of making things easy, even for the people he cared about most.
“Take him home,” Rikiko said then, and Eijiro looked defeatedly between them as the man sighed. “Get him cleaned up. I need to address the crowd.”
Eijiro just turned away, head still hanging low: low enough that he couldn’t see the man’s nod—couldn’t see his mother’s face, nor any of the crowds’. He only felt a strong hand on his shoulder as Mr. Aizawa led him wordlessly back to his home.
It felt like forever, but when the two were at last back in the safety of the Kirishimas’ hut, Eijiro turned toward the man, wincing at his expression. “Listen, kid—” he started, but he was cut off with a shake of the head.
“I was telling the truth,” Eijiro said again; he was beginning to feel like a broken record, voice coming out desperate before softening slightly. “I- I really hit one.” The man just stared at him, and the boy frowned. “You don’t believe me.”
A beat. “Do you believe yourself?”
Eijiro sighed, shaking his head as his gaze drifted to the floor. “It doesn’t matter. Nobody else does. They never do.”
The silence stretched on a moment longer. It was deafening. Shouta reached into his pocket, pulling out a cloth rag, and he handed it wordlessly to the boy. Eijiro took it hesitantly, moving to begin wiping the dirt from his arms as Mr. Aizawa’s voice at last cut through again. “So, what now?”
“I—” Eijiro stopped short, blinking up at the man as he considered for a moment. He knew what he meant. Shouta had never been a man of many words, but he had also never been one to abandon anyone who needed guidance; and he wouldn’t allow Eijiro to wallow in pity. “I just… wanna prove myself. And make mom proud.”
“So do that,” he said gently. “You’re a smart kid, Eijiro, but you’ve gotta stop trying to be something you’re not.” His heart sank in his chest as the man pressed on. “There’s a lot of things you’re really good at. Dragon hunting just— it just isn’t one of them.”
Eijiro swallowed the lump in his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say. But it could be. But it is. I shot down a Night Fury, didn’t you hear? But he bit them back, urging himself to stay quiet. He knew it wouldn’t make a difference—knew no one would ever believe him unless he showed them some kind of proof.
He heard the door creak open behind him, his mother’s unmistakable footsteps shaking the ground below them. Eijiro let out a deep sigh, brushing past Mr. Aizawa and back to his room—not slamming the door, but also not guiding it to a close the way he normally would. Instead, he let it fall shut, an earthy thud permeating the room.
Rikiko sighed, eyes falling shut as she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “What am I going to do with that boy?” She spoke in a low tone, unaware that Eijiro still had his ear pressed firmly to the back of his door, soaking in every nauseating word.
“He’s a good kid,” Shouta assured. Eijiro could picture him taking a careful step towards his mother, maybe placing a comforting hand on her arm as he spoke. “He just wants you to be proud of him.”
Eijiro could hear her quiet scoff. “Well, I don’t feel proud when he does things like this.”
His stomach lurched up to his throat, eyes stinging as he let his weight lean further against the cool wood. There was another stretch of silence before the man spoke again. “Maybe it’s time you put him in the ring with the rest of the hunters. Let him learn for real.”
“Shouta, be serious,” his mother breathed through another scoff, and Eijiro winced at the implications.
“I am,” the man argued. “If he wants to hunt dragons, let him. I’ll train the kid myself."
Another pause. Eijiro held his breath in his throat. “You know he’s not cut out for it.” Her tone was softer now, but still firm—still dripping with distaste. “You saw what happened tonight. He’ll be eaten alive.”
“You don’t know that,” Shouta started, but she cut him off.
“Yes, I do!” she shouted suddenly, and Eijiro huffed, wiping the tears that threatened to spill as he turned away. He couldn’t bear to hear another word. As he climbed through the window out the back of his room, the adults’ conversation continued on without him. “Shouta, you know what he’s like, okay? He’s always been… different. Softer. He’s not a dragon hunter.”
The man let out a deep sigh. “No one’s born a dragon hunter, Ri.”
“I was,” she countered. “I had an axe in my hand by the time I was three. My father raised me up to be strong. Independent. To follow in his footsteps and be the best chief Musutafu could have.” She paused, letting out a shaky exhale. “I’ve tried to do the same for Eijiro, but he's just not ready. I don’t— I don’t know if he ever will be.”
It was quiet for a long moment then, Rikiko finding interest in a small chip in the wall. She recalled the time Eijiro had slung one of his starter-weapons full force into it, back when he was only three; she had been so proud.
Shouta studied her thoughtfully. Then, finally, he spoke again. “He has the heart, Ri. He wants this.” He paused. “You can’t stop him. He’s gonna go out there again and he’s gonna keep doing things like this, and it’s your job to make sure he’s safe, alright? He’s just a kid. He needs your support.”
There was another long pause before the woman spoke. “...Fine,” she relented, voice coming out in barely a whisper. After a moment, she spoke again. “But if anything happens to him, I swear, Shouta, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
The man slowly raised two fingers, saluting her with a stoic expression on his face.
Rikiko huffed, but a slight smile tugged on the corners of her lips, betraying her annoyance. She turned without another word, approaching Eijiro’s door hesitantly. “Eijiro,” she said carefully as she rapped on the door twice, furrowing her eyebrows at the silence that followed. “Eijiro?” she called out again as she pushed the door slowly open, blinking in surprise as she was met with an empty room, her only greeting the gentle breeze blowing in through the boy’s still open window.
Shouta came up behind her, a small smirk tugging on his lips. “Well, what do you know?” he teased lightly. “I told you you couldn’t stop him.”