Chapter Text
The midday sun had already begun its slow descent toward the west, stretching long shadows across the village streets. The summer heat still clung to the air, but the light had begun to soften, painting the rooftops in warm gold as evening drew closer.
Kamino was still busy.
Carts piled high with rice sacks rattled along the main road, their wooden wheels groaning beneath the weight. Market vendors shouted over one another, trying to attract the last customers of the day, while servants from wealthy households pushed through the crowd as if everyone else had no right to be in their way. Young ladies in bright robes wandered between the stalls, pausing to admire jewelry, silk ribbons, and jars of expensive cosmetics.
At the far end of the street stood the largest estate in the area.
The Shindo family had been involved in the materials trade for generations. Their wealth had grown until they controlled most of the trade in Kamino and the surrounding villages.
Their estate was a reminder of that wealth. Tall gates. Stone walls. Guards at every entrance.
Everything about the place seemed designed to remind people exactly where they stood.
Which was why the shouting at the front gate drew so much attention.
“What?!”
Katsuki's voice rang across the street.
“What do you mean he’s not going to fucking pay me?”
Several people turned to look.
Katsuki stood at the gate with a thick roll of silk balanced over one shoulder. Dust covered his clothes from a full day of work, and fresh scratches marked his hands and forearms. His shoulders ached, his feet hurt, and he had been on his feet since dawn.
He had done the work.
Every bit of it.
He had repaired the broken side gate, carried crates from the warehouse, hauled supplies across the estate, and delivered the silk exactly where he had been told.
Now he wanted his money.
The servant standing in front of him didn't even look impressed.
“I've delivered everything you asked for,” Katsuki growled, shifting the heavy roll higher on his shoulder. “I fixed your gate. I carried half your warehouse inside. So where's my damn pay?”
The servant gave him a disapproving look.
“Mind your language.”
Katsuki stared at him. “Pay me and I'll consider it.”
The servant sighed as though Katsuki were personally ruining his day. “The young master will be out shortly.”
Katsuki's jaw tightened.
Of course he will. Let me stand here until sunset. Maybe tomorrow too. Why stop at wasting one day when you can waste two?
“He'd better be.”
He didn't have to wait long. The sound of footsteps came from inside the estate.
Yo Shindo appeared at the top of the stone steps, descending them with the confidence of someone who had never once wondered whether the world would make room for him.
His robes were made from fine fabric embroidered with gold thread. A decorative fan rested in one hand, its painted surface far too pretty to be used for anything as practical as keeping cool.
Katsuki had imagined hitting him with it more than once.
Unfortunately, the fan was probably worth more than everything Katsuki owned.
Yo stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked him over from head to toe.
His mouth twisted. “So you're the one making all that noise.”
Katsuki's fingers tightened around the silk. “I'm asking for my money.”
“Oh.” Yo blinked innocently. “The money.”
He gave a soft laugh and turned toward the servant.
“The delivery boy is demanding payment as though he's some important merchant.”
Katsuki's eyes narrowed. “I don't care what you think I am. We agreed on a price.”
“We agreed?” Yo raised an eyebrow. He stepped closer, his expression almost amused. “I think you've misunderstood your position. As your employer, I can decide whether to pay you."
Don’t say it.
"And I've just decided that I don't feel like it.”
Katsuki almost lost his balance.
“What did you say?” Katsuki asked through gritted teeth.
Yo sighed dramatically, like a teacher explaining a simple lesson to a particularly stupid student. “People like you don't make agreements with families like mine.” He leaned closer. “You receive orders.” Another step. “Commands.” His voice dropped to a quiet, mocking whisper. “Like obedient little dogs.”
Katsuki's jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
He had never liked working for the Shindo family. Unfortunately, not liking someone had never been a good enough reason to turn down work. And The Shindo estate paid better than most households in Kamino.
The problem was that the heir currently looming over him had a talent for making simple work miserable.
If Katsuki was hired to carry ten crates, Yo would somehow find an eleventh and insist it had been part of the original order. If he was sent to deliver something across the village, Yo would suddenly remember another package that needed to be taken somewhere else—without offering an extra coin for the trouble.
Once, Katsuki had spent half a day repairing a section of the estate's outer fence, only for Yo to stroll past afterward and point out that three boards on the other side were crooked.
Another time, Katsuki had been ordered to carry a shipment into the warehouse. Yo had watched from the shade of the veranda, drinking tea, and decided halfway through that the crates had been stacked in the wrong corner.
Katsuki had moved them.
Then Yo changed his mind.
Katsuki had moved them back.
By the end of the afternoon, he had been so close to throwing the entire crate at the young master's head that only the thought of the promised payment had stopped him.
That was the part Yo understood. He knew Katsuki needed the money. And he knew Katsuki couldn't afford to walk away.
So Katsuki swallowed his pride, clenched his teeth, and kept taking the work.
And if working for a spoiled bastard meant he could somehow live for another few days, then Katsuki would suck up and do it.
Because Katsuki could tolerate extra work. He could tolerate being ordered around. He could even tolerate the smug look on Shindo's face.
But every insult has its limits. That was his.
“Shindo. You damn fucker.”
Silence fell.
The nearby servants lowered their eyes. A few people on the street stopped walking altogether.
Everyone in Kamino knew Katsuki's temper.
He worked hard. He kept his word. He took almost any job people offered him, no matter how unpleasant or dangerous.
But he also had a mouth that had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count.
And he had never been particularly good at bowing his head.
Yo simply sighed. He opened his fan and waved it lazily in front of his face. “My father really does have too soft of a heart.”
Katsuki's eyes narrowed.
“For years, he's allowed you lowlifes to linger around our estate. Feed one, help another, give them some work.” Yo shook his head as if it were all terribly unfortunate. “And before long, you start clinging to us like leeches.”
His gaze settled on Katsuki. “You begin to believe you're people just like us.”
Katsuki's hands curled into fists. “You didn't do me any favors.” His voice was low now. “I earned every fucking coin.”
Every meal he had eaten had cost him something.
Blisters.
Bruises.
Long days.
Cold mornings.
He had learned early that if he wanted something, he had to work for it. No family would come running to save him. No father would reach into a purse and toss him a few coins. No one was waiting at home.
Everything he had was because of his own hands.
Because he simply refused to die just because.
Yo smiled. “Oh, really?” He stepped closer. The tip of his fan slipped beneath Katsuki's chin and lifted his face.
Katsuki jerked away immediately. The movement nearly made the silk roll slide from his shoulder.
“Don't touch me.”
Yo only smiled. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
Katsuki stared back at him.
Every muscle in his face seemed to be working to keep him from saying something that would get him beaten.
Yo studied him for a moment. “A nobody.” The smile disappeared. “A nameless piece of trash.”
Katsuki's stomach twisted.
“Someone born in the mud,” Yo continued, “Who can scrub his hands raw and still never get rid of the smell.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
“You should be grateful every day that you're allowed to breathe the same air as people above you.”
The fan snapped shut.
Yo struck him across the cheek with it.
The sound was small. The humiliation wasn't.
Katsuki's head turned with the impact. For a moment, all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.
He had heard those words before. Orphan. Bastard. Rat. Scum.
People like Yo seemed to have endless ways of reminding the poor where they belonged. That didn't make the words hurt any less.
Katsuki slowly turned his head back. His eyes were cold. “I dare you to say that again.” His voice was so quiet that it barely sounded like a challenge. It sounded like a warning.
Yo noted condescendingly. “What? Did that hurt?”
Don't.
Don't push me.
I'm already angry enough.
Katsuki could feel his pulse hammering in his neck.
Yo leaned closer. “People like you are born to work for people like me.” His smile returned. “And you'll die exactly where you were born.”
His eyes flicked toward the dusty road. “In the filth.”
Katsuki took one step forward. “One more word.” His voice shook with barely contained fury. “And I'll knock every tooth out of your mouth.”
“Oh?” Yo looked delighted. He turned toward the small crowd that had gathered. “Did you hear that?” He spread his hands. “All it takes is reminding a dog of its place, and it bares its fangs.”
He looked toward one of the servants. “Give me that.”
The servant hesitated. Then he fetched a wooden bucket filled with the dirty water left over from washing the courtyard.
Katsuki's eyes narrowed. “What are you—”
The water hit him before he could finish.
Cold and filthy. It drenched his face and hair, soaked through his clothes, and splattered across the roll of silk. The fabric slipped from his shoulder and hit the ground with a heavy thud.
For a heartbeat, everything went silent.
Water ran down Katsuki’s face. Into his eyes. Down his neck. Into the collar of his shirt. Then someone laughed. Another person joined in.
Katsuki stood completely still. His fists slowly tightened. He hated this. He hated the mud beneath his feet. He hated the clothes sticking to his skin. He hated the laughter.But most of all, he hated how familiar it felt. He had been born without a surname. Without money. Without parents. Without anyone powerful enough to stand behind him.
He worked until his hands were raw. He took jobs other people refused. He carried things too heavy for him, ran errands through rain, snow and heat, and swallowed his pride whenever it meant getting another meal.
And somehow, to people like Yo, none of it mattered.
To them, he was still just something that had crawled out of the mud.
A nameless boy fighting for scraps. A pair of hands that worked until they broke.
Someone who could spend his whole life clawing upward and still never be allowed to stand beside the people born above him.
The thought made something inside him twist with disgust.
No.
If fate wanted him on his knees, it would have to break him first. And Katsuki had never been good at breaking.
He lunged forward. “You lousy—”
Two guards caught him from either side. A third drove a knee into his stomach. The breath exploded out of Katsuki's lungs.
“Let me go!” He thrashed violently, forcing one of the guards to stumble.
“Hold him!”
“Does this dog really think he can threaten the young master?”
Katsuki barely heard them. His vision blurred. Then something struck the backs of his knees. He hit the ground hard. Mud splashed across his face. Pain shot through his palms. He tasted blood. One of the guards stepped on his hand.
“If you come near this gate again without being summoned, you'll get a beating you'll remember!”
Katsuki hissed through the pain. Instead, he slowly lifted his head. His eyes locked onto Yo.
The guard shifted uneasily beneath that stare.
Katsuki spat blood into the dirt. “Laugh while you can.” His voice was rough, but there was a bitter smile on his face. “I don't know if you believe in luck.” He let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I sure as hell don’t. ”His eyes remained fixed on Yo. “But I've got one stupid little hope keeping me going.” Katsuki wiped the blood from beneath his nose. “That sooner or later, fate settles its debts.”
Yo's expression barely changed.
Katsuki's smile sharpened. “And when it finally kicks you off that high horse, you'll remember me.” He pushed himself up onto one elbow. “The first bastard who ever warned you.” His red eyes seemed to burn. “And I promise you—” He paused. “I’ll be the last person you’ll want to see.”
Yo merely adjusted his sleeve. “I don't bother remembering the faces of farmhands.”
He turned away. The estate gates slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed down the street.
Katsuki stayed where he was for a moment.
No one helped him. No one even came close. The crowd slowly began to disperse, people returning to their errands as though nothing had happened.
Poverty isn't contagious, you idiots.
Katsuki wiped the blood beneath his nose with the back of his hand.
Fuck this snob. And fuck his damn fan.
He pushed himself to his feet.
His lip was split. Blood had dried at the corner of his mouth.His clothes were soaked and covered in dirt.
He had worked all day. And he had nothing to show for it. Except the roll of silk lying in the mud.
Katsuki picked it up. The fabric was stained beyond repair. At best, he could try to clean it and return it to the merchant who had hired him. At worst, that man would take one look at the ruined silk and decide that someone like him wasn't worth paying either.
His fingers tightened around the fabric until his knuckles turned white.
“Well, Katsuki,” he muttered bitterly to himself. “Another day of dignity being dragged through the dirt.” He gave a humorless laugh. He turned away from the closed gate.
The sun was sinking beyond the rooftops, staining the sky gold and violet.
For all the ugliness of the day, the sunset was almost beautiful.
Katsuki didn't stop to admire it.
He simply walked.
By the time he reached the busier streets of Kamino, evening had settled over the village.
Despite the late hour, the streets were still crowded. Lanterns swayed above the shops, casting warm pools of light across wooden facades and narrow alleys. Laughter and the clatter of dishes drifted from open inns. The smell of grilled meat mingled with incense and the sharp scent of herbs sold at the night market.
Katsuki moved through the crowd with the expression of someone who would gladly burn down half the street just to get five minutes of peace.
At least he hadn't come back completely empty-handed. He had managed to sell the silk. Not for much though. The merchant had taken one look at the stained fabric, haggled shamelessly, and offered Katsuki a miserable price. In the end, Katsuki had managed to bargain for a few extra coins in exchange for delivering a package to the next village the following morning.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
Katsuki tightened his fingers around the small pouch. Still, at least they were his. No charity. No pity.
He turned into a narrower street leading toward the older residential quarter.
That was when he heard the familiar creak of wooden wheels.
Katsuki stopped. A few steps ahead, an elderly woman was struggling with a wooden wheelbarrow.
Two large buckets sat inside it, surrounded by bundles of dried herbs, clay jars, and small bottles wrapped in cloth. The load looked far too heavy for her.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes.
“Ugh.” He didn't move.
The woman pulled at the handles again. The wheel caught between two uneven stones.
“Oh, come on,” She muttered. “Move, you miserable thing...”
Katsuki sighed through his nose.
He knew who that was. He had known her for as long as he could remember.
Miss Chiyo Shuzenji had been part of Kamino since he was old enough to walk or talk. When he was little, he had seen her almost every day—returning from distant houses with bags full of herbs, grinding medicine with a mortar and pestle, or sitting beside sick villagers through the night.
Her small clinic was where people went when they couldn't afford a proper doctor in the city. The wealthy saw her as an old village healer. Some even called her a quack.
The people of Kamino knew better. Chiyo treated the families who had nowhere else to go. She had stitched wounds, brought down fevers, delivered babies, and sat beside dying patients when there was nothing left to do.
Katsuki had grown up seeing it. He remembered her giving him rice candy when he was small. He remembered her cleaning his scraped knees while he insisted he wasn't hurt.
He remembered being seven years old, showing up at her door with blood running down his forehead and loudly insisting that it didn't hurt. She had laughed at him then. She still did sometimes.
“Katsuki?”
He was already standing beside the wheelbarrow. “Move.”
Shuzenji blinked. “Child, what are you doing out this late?” She squinted her wrinkled eyes at him and frowned upon seeing cuts on his cheek. „And what happened to you face?”
Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Enjoying everything life has to offer.” He gestured toward his dirty clothes. “As you can see.”
Chiyo smacked his shoulder. “Don't talk back, you little brat.”
Katsuki stared at her. Then at the wheelbarrow. Then back at her.
“What? You know backtalk’s included in my services.” He grabbed the handles. “Free of charge.”
Chiyo raised an eyebrow. “I've heard that talk since you were little.”
She watched him pull the wheelbarrow free. “You used to bring injured animals to my door and then claim they were 'in the way.'”
Katsuki glanced back. “They were.”
“You once carried an injured puppy three streets.”
“Because it was blocking the road.”
“You cried when I told you it might not survive.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Katsuki turned his face away. “Old people remember things wrong.”
Chiyo smiled. “There you are, firecracker.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Katsuki grunted and continued pulling. The wheels squeaked over the stones as they made their way through the quieting streets.
After a while, Chiyo spoke again. “I heard you worked for the Shindo family today.”
Katsuki's shoulders stiffened.
His fingers tightened around the handles. “Who's the snitch?”
“Kamino is a small village.” Chiyo's voice was calm. “News travels faster than people.”
“I don't wanna talk about it.”
His voice was flat, but she could hear the anger underneath.
The smell of dirty water dripping from his hair returned without warning.
Chiyo didn't press him. “So it went bad.”
Katsuki shot her a look. “I said I don't wanna talk about it.”
“I heard you.”
He looked away.
A few seconds passed.
“But you came back in one piece.”
Katsuki snorted. “Almost.”
Chiyo stopped walking. “Katsuki.”
He sighed. There was no point pretending with her. “I'm fine.”
Her expression softened. “Good.” She started walking again. “Because if you came to me with broken bones, I'd have to put you back together.”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “As if I need a babysitter.”
“You’re a grown man. You don't need a babysitter.” She tapped her cane against the road. “But as any human, you need a doctor.” Then she glanced at him. “And someone to remind you that you're not made of stone.”
Katsuki looked away.
That one landed too close.
“Don't exaggerate, hag.”
Chiyo smiled to herself. “Of course.”
She knew better than to push him. Instead, she changed the subject. “Mina was at the clinic today.”
Katsuki sighed. “Oh yeah?”
Chiyo's eyes brightened. “She spent half the day with the herbs again.”
“Did she mix them up?”
“Only three times.”
Katsuki snorted. “So she's improving.”
“She is.” Chiyo smiled. “She works hard.”
Katsuki didn't answer.
Mina Ashido had been helping at the clinic for some time now. She was learning how to identify herbs, prepare medicines, clean wounds, and stitch simple cuts.
She wanted to become a doctor one day. A real one.
The kind who could study in the city and treat people who couldn't afford to pay for the best physicians.
Katsuki thought the dream was ridiculously ambitious. But he had never thought Mina was the kind of person who would give up just because something was difficult.
“She said she wants to practice stitching tomorrow,” Shuzenji added.
Katsuki immediately frowned. “Keep her away from me.”
Chiyo laughed. “Why? You have plenty of practice.”
“Try it and I'll break the needles.”
“You'll survive.”
“Not convinced.”
Shuzenji laughed again. “I still remember when you were nine and came to me with that cut above your eyebrow.”
Katsuki's expression changed immediately. “That was a long time ago.”
“You were crying.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were crying so loudly you woke half the village.”
“It hurt!”
“Of course it did.”
Katsuki frowned at her. “You're annoying.”
“And you're still the same boy.”
He grunted. But the corner of his mouth twitched.
For a few moments, the only sounds were the creaking wheel and the distant noise of the market.
Then laughter came from around the corner.
Katsuki looked up. Three figures stepped away from the wall of a nearby building and into the street. They blocked the path.
The first was tall and thin, with a wooden stick resting over one shoulder.
The second had a crooked grin and a scar on his chin.
The third stood out immediately.
Neito Monoma.
Katsuki knew him. Everyone in Kamino did. Another son of a mediocre merchant. A spoiled young man with more confidence than sense and a habit of reminding everyone exactly how important his family was.
His pale hair was perfectly styled, and his clothes were far too fine for someone wandering around a back street at night.
One of the boys bowed dramatically toward Shuzenji.
“Young master, look. An old woman wandering around alone at night.”
Neito smiled. “How dangerous.” His gaze shifted to Katsuki. “Especially with such dangerous men around.”
Katsuki stopped the wheelbarrow.
“No.”
Neito blinked. “What?”
“Whatever you're about to say.” Katsuki looked at all three of them. “No.” He sighed. “I'm tired. I'm in a bad mood. And you're standing in my way.”
Shuzenji closed her eyes. “Katsuki...”
“I'm not doing anything.”
“Not yet.”
The three boys laughed.
Katsuki kept his eyes on Neito. “So move.”
Neito smiled. “And what if I don't?”
Katsuki released the handles. “Then you and I will have a problem.”
One of the boys laughed. “Did you hear that? The mutt's threatening us.”
“I'm not threatening you.” Katsuki's voice was calm. “I'm warning you.”
Neito tilted his head. “Oh, how frightening.” His eyes traveled over Katsuki's dusty clothes. “You look as filthy as ever.”
“And you're as fucking annoying as ever.”
One of the boys stepped forward. “Watch your mouth, scum!”
Katsuki's eyes narrowed.
“Do you know who you're talking to?”
“No.”
The boy looked offended. “Do you know who our young master's father is?”
Katsuki stared at him. “The man who apparently doesn't beat his son enough?”
Chiyo shut her eyes.
Neito's face went red. “You—”
Katsuki shrugged. “I've heard enough stories.”
Neito's expression darkened. “My father is one of the most important merchants in Kamino.”
“Congratulations.”
“You think you can speak to me like that?”
“Yes.”
Neito stepped closer. “My father could have you banned from half the businesses in this village.”
Katsuki laughed once. “He's got bigger problems.”
Neito frowned. “Like what?”
“You.” Katsuki pointed at him. “Every time I hear your name, you've caused another mess.”
Neito's face stiffened. “You're lying.”
“Am I?” Katsuki's smile was thin. “Broken stalls. Fights. Stealing from your father's warehouse.”
One of the boys looked at Neito. “Is that true?”
“Shut up!”
Katsuki shrugged. “Your father already has enough trouble cleaning up after you.” He stepped closer. “You really think he's going to waste his time hunting me down because I knocked you around?”
Neito's hands curled into fists. “You'll regret this.”
Katsuki's eyes hardened. “Maybe.” He nodded toward the road behind them. “But I'm willing to take the risk.”
Neito turned toward his companions.
“Take him down.”
The two boys charged.
Katsuki barely sighed.
The first swung his stick. Katsuki stepped aside. The weapon cut through empty air.
Katsuki caught his wrist. “Too slow.”
He twisted. The boy cried out and dropped the stick. Katsuki shoved him away.
The second came from behind. Katsuki heard the footsteps. He kicked backward. His heel struck the boy's ankle. The boy stumbled.
Katsuki grabbed him by the collar and sent him sprawling onto the road. “I told you,” He said flatly. “Bad mood.”
Neito stared. “You idiots!”
He rushed forward himself. Katsuki didn't even bother stepping back.
Neito swung.
Katsuki caught his wrist.
He twisted, turned, and used Neito's own momentum against him. Neito hit the ground.
“Damn it!”
Katsuki stood over him. “Your father should've taught you something important.”
Neito glared up at him.
“What?”
“Don't pick fights you can't win.”
Neito struggled to rise. Katsuki pressed a foot against his shoulder. “Stay.”
“Get off me!”
“Fat chances.”
“Do you know who I am?!”
Katsuki stared down at him. “Unfortunately.”
Behind them came a quiet tapping sound. Chiyo had reached the first boy.
Tap. Her cane landed on his shoulder.
“Ow!”
“Stop whining.”
Tap. The second boy got a light hit on the forehead.
“You're both too young to be this stupid.”
Katsuki glanced back. “Are you really doing this?”
Chiyo raised an eyebrow. “They started it.”
“That's not the point.”
She tapped her cane against the ground. “Did you break anything?”
“No.”
“Bones?”
“No.”
She nodded. “Good.”
Neito looked outraged. “Uhm, hello? I’m injured here!”
Chiyo stared at him. “You're lying on your back complaining louder than my patients with broken ribs.”
Neito opened his mouth. Then shut it. “My father will hear about this!”
Katsuki laughed. “Go ahead.”
Neito glared.
Katsuki leaned down slightly. “Tell him exactly what happened.” His smile was sharp. “Tell him you picked a fight with a granny in the street.”
Neito's expression faltered.
“And tell him how you needed two men to help you.” The other boys looked away. Katsuki straightened. “I'm sure he'll be proud.”
Chiyo sighed. “Enough.”
Katsuki looked at her. “They're still—”
“Enough.”
Her voice had the quiet authority of someone who had been scolding him since he was a child.
Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
He removed his foot from Neito's shoulder. The three boys scrambled to their feet.
“Go home,” Chiyo ordered.
Neito stared at her.
“You can't order me around.”
She lifted her cane. Tap. Neito flinched.
“Home. Now.”
He swallowed. Then turned and disappeared into the alley, the other two following close behind.
Katsuki watched them go. Then, despite himself, he laughed. It was brief. Reluctant. But real.
Chiyo looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Oh. So you're in a better mood now.”
“No.”
“You're smiling.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“Shut up.”
Chiyo smiled. “Come on.”
She reached for the wheelbarrow.
Katsuki got there first.
“Already?”
“The herbs aren't going to deliver themselves.”
He grabbed the handles again. “You're just taking advantage of an orphan.”
Chiyo snorted. “Yet somehow you always help.”
“Because I want to get home.”
“Of course.”
They continued down the street.
Katsuki rolled his eyes.
But he didn't let go of the wheelbarrow.
They reached Chiyo's home near the edge of the village not long after. Katsuki pulled the wheelbarrow into the yard.
She stopped him.
“Under the awning.”
He looked at her. “Do it yourself.”
Chiyo turned slowly. “Katsuki.”
He sighed. “Fine. Fine.”
He lifted the first bucket, then the second, carrying both beneath the wooden awning. When the last one was safely inside, he wiped his hands against his trousers.
“Done.”
Chiyo looked at him. Then at the buckets. Then back at him.
“Good boy.”
Katsuki's eye twitched. “Don't.”
Tap. Her cane struck his ankle.
“Ow!”
“That was for talking back.”
“I just helped you!”
“And that's why I only hit you once.”
Katsuki stared at her in disbelief, rubbing his ankle.
For anyone else, the gesture would have made his blood boil. With Shuzenji, it was almost comforting.
She remembered the boy beneath all the anger. The boy who used to limp into her clinic with scraped knees and insist that he wasn't hurt. The boy who would rather bite his own tongue off than admit he needed help. She had never treated him like a burden. Never looked at him with pity. She had simply been there. And somehow, that mattered more than Katsuki would ever say.
“I'm leaving, old hag,” he muttered.
“Wait.”
Katsuki glanced over his shoulder. “What now?”
She returned with a small clay jar in her hand and held it out to him. “Put this on your cheek.”
Katsuki frowned. “I don't need it.”
“I didn't ask.”
He stared at the jar. “What is it?”
“Ointment for cuts and bruises.”
“I can take care of a damn scratch.”
“Then you can take care of it with this.”
Katsuki sighed, already knowing there was no point arguing. He took the jar.
Chiyo smiled faintly. “Consider it payment for your hard work.”
Katsuki looked down at the little jar in his palm. “You're paying me in medicine?”
“I know you'll use it.”
He snorted. “That's a terrible business deal.”
“And yet you're still holding it.”
Katsuki slipped the jar into his pocket. “Whatever.” His fingers lingered against it for a moment longer than necessary. He turned toward the gate.
“Take care of yourself, kid.”
He stopped. His back remained turned toward her. For a moment, he said nothing. The words should have been simple. They weren't.
Katsuki swallowed. “I'm always fucking careful.”
“That's a lie.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Good night.”
“Good night, you ungrateful brat.”
Katsuki stepped through the gate. He didn't look back.
He slipped a hand into his pocket. His fingers closed around the few copper coins he had earned that night and received jar.
Not much. But enough for tomorrow.
For now, that was enough.