katsukibakugo

[katsukibakugo]

thinking about the moment when we strayed into the right path

Summary: When one Izuku, heir to house Midoriya and loyal subject of the kingdom of Doryoku, finds himself caring for a stolen dragon’s egg he’ll unknowingly become part of a conspiracy threatening to dismantle his kingdom and a prophecy threatening to destroy the world.

ao3: [Prologue], [ch1], [ch2], [ch3], [ch4], [ch5], [ch6]

Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6 plus notes under cut (8k words)

Chapter 3 - The Relic from The Age of Heroes

It cracked. At first he wasn't sure if he'd seen it, not really. If he is honest with himself, he wants to close his eyes and ignore it, to tell himself that he didn't see anything, that there's nothing to worry about. He wants to say, "This is not an omen."

He wants to say, "That monster was defeated long ago." But unfortunately enough he knows what he saw. He knows what he's seeing now. The everstone carrying the strongest weapon in the world since the birth of magic has cracked. Toshinori Yagi knows fully well what that means. For him. For the kingdom. For the outside.

That time grows near. He knows what it means but he's not ready. He sighs, walks away from the center of the Hall of Beginnings, away from the everstone and what it holds. He makes his way to his usual spot and sits. He doesn't bother looking up yet, keeping his gaze down. He picks at the small blades of grass growing from the ground, the ones that have managed to grow tall unlike the ones beneath him. He's like a rock on this sole spot, having spent multiple intervals of decades mediating, waiting, praying.

The sun shines brights from the small open holes on the hall's dome roof, bright enough that he can see dust and pollen fly around him. He sees at times, the glimmers of ancient magic that come from the center of the hall, visible now only to his eyes. "What do I do?" he implores, head still bent down. "I can't fight that monster again, no matter how much I want to." He clenches his fists around the blades of grass, doesn't pull. Just holds. "What am I supposed to do, master?" he asks again, raising his head. Nana Shimura's statue smiles. Age has withered the once pristine statue. Part of the cape that bellowed behind her has fallen off. The details, from her smile to the small indent that indicated the birthmark on her chin to the brooch that held her hair back, now barely noticeable. The fist cocked at her hip has two fingers missing and the arm that dangled at her side missing from the elbow down. Even the plaque that held her name and title has been lost to time, the words barely legible. The other statues around the hall fare no better. His master's old comrades. The people he once followed without a second thought and fought beside. Generations he's spent caring for the Hall of Beginnings and everything inside it, yet he's failed to even keep these fragments left of them whole. What's left of Nana Shimura's statue smiles, not at him. Not at anything. Nana Shimura has been dead for centuries. He sits there, lost in memories of the past and worry for the future, for what must be hours. The sun no longer shines through into the hall. He sighs, letting go of the grass. "I guess it's a lucky coincidence that we're nearing that time of the year, huh," he speaks to the empty hall, to the silent statue of his master and her- their comrades. "The Korona festival and the trial of Seikatsu." he shakes his head. "But we've never had a champion, what could possibly change this time?" he asks out loud, incredulous. "I've seen so many people try and fail that I've long lost count. No one's been chosen since I was." He shakes his head before rising to his feet. "And look at me, the last champion, talking to myself like this," he huffs, making his way back to the center of the hall. The everstone sits on the middle of it all, surrounded by the chosen of old. At it's center, now with a longer visible crack running down the everstone, sits the most powerful weapon of all, the first blade of the new age, the One for All. And the sword between two stone talons. He looks up to the stone dragon behind the everstone, sitting there tall and proud, one paw over the everstone and sword, what's left of the stone wings spread wide behind it, the head missing one of its four horns. "No champion since myself," he murmurs. "What will become of this world when he rises again and there's no chosen to fight him. Only your power can stop him." "Please, please lend it to us once more, Unuzu."

Chapter 4 - The Deserting Prince

Sakaba, the underbelly of the royal capital of Doryoku. Ryouga's favorite place. The one place his father made his very best to hide, erase, dismantle, but never actually bother to fix. Not that Sakaba could be fixed, not really.

There was dark energy in the very soil and legend had it, a great battle was fought in this very land ending in the total slaughter of both sides. This all occurring before even Doryoku's founding. Since the battle had happened during the beginning of the New Age, magic being so young, vast, and powerful, the dying soldiers cast a curse upon the land in their deaths. Everything evil in the world would congregate there year by year, decade by decade, and eventually it would burst, the dark magic, taking the world down with them to the sounds of the dying man who cursed the land and all who lived in it. Or at least that was the legend, Ryouga thinks with a snort. Ryouga wasn't one for superstitions or old tales from barely readable texts, let alone the hearsay from old crones. Oh, he knows there's truth to all stories, no matter how little. Still, being raised by a man obsessed (and that's putting it lightly) with prophecies and childrens' tales, brings quite the distaste for that sort of thing. He'd rather see the world, Sakaba in this case, for what it was. The failure of Doryoku. Yet another mark against his father, though a relatively small one compared to the vast rest. It wasn't the only one either, Ryouga knows this well. All major cities within Doryoku had their own very Sakaba, places the common folk tried their best to ignore, where the vermin come together. In fact, all over the continent you could find Sakabas; all different names, all different buildings, all different sort of scum as far as the eye could see for the common folk to look away from or shrink in fear from. But this Sakaba was his and with every trip he made into it, the freer he felt. The easier it got to tell himself that he was removing the chains that man placed on him when and until it was convenient to him-

(and not that he'd been thrown away). Making his way into Sakaba itself was beyond easy. Sure there were guards placed around Sakaba to keep the vermin out of the streets of the royal capital, but they never paid it any mind until trouble broke out. The guards his father had once appointed to him were taken the moment Shouto's magic came into being- once Shouto proved he was father's promised prince of prophecy.

Fifteen years with no one to watch his every move. Or his back, but because of it Ryouga was able to learn how to fend for himself. For that at least, he's thankful. Pulling the black cloak he threw over his head further down he makes haste, sliding between alleys with the grace of a cat. The bag he carries carefully hidden from view as the cloak blows behind him. He's in a hurry, he'd just barely managed to escape Fuyumi- his sister actually tried to freeze him in place with her magic. His boots still feel soggy and wet even after he'd tried his best to dry them without setting them on fire. As such, he's wasted precious time in the attempt. He needs to get to the rendezvous point and fast. If anyone so much as attempts to rob him at the moment, well he'd just have to turn them to ash as quickly as possible. Thankfully it seems the folks in the area are actually listening to their sense of self-preservation this time around, moving swiftly out of his way as he goes. Good, he'd rather not end up in a bad mood before he even steps foot in the citadel. He hurries along, mindful to take quiet steps the closer he gets to one particular alleyway. With a quick look to his surroundings, seeing no one and sensing no magical presence he steps into it. Had there been anyone on the small road they would have seen him disappear from sight. The alleyway is short, nothing more than ten steps, closed off and leading only to a door at the end. He opens it and steps inside. The door itself leads to a small dark room, no other doors and no light lacrymas or old style candles to speak of. There's only darkness and a queasy sense of disorientation. He frankly dislikes this part, even though he's grown more than used to it over the short years he's had to deal with it. He digs into his pocket, digs out the small brown pouch he'd been given three years back and lets the small lacryma orb fall into his hands. He can't see it now, his eyes haven't adjusted to the dark just yet, but he knows, even as small as it is, that the orb shines, as if he had part of the night sky on the palm of his hand. He closes his hand into a fist, the lacryma orb hidden behind his fingers. The darkness and the feeling of disorientation expands and expands, engulfs him like a thick blanket.

Ryouga closes his eyes against the feeling and breathes. He won't be Ryouga for a while now. He opens his eyes with a sigh when the feeling finally abates. The dark room is no more, and neither is he alone now. The new room is still pretty dark, the light lacrymas hanging from the ceiling not that bright. Still, it's bright enough to make out the usual barrels pushed to the walls, stacked one on top of the other, and the man in front of him, bright yellow eyes visible and contrasting compared to the black under the hood of the cloak the man wears. "Dabi, welcome. You're just in time," Kurogiri says to him. "You mean I barely made it," he points out, playing with the lacryma orb between his fingers. The orb now looks like a small, round gray rock. He hands over the lacryma orb to Kurogiri's dark, intangible palm. It disappears from sight. Kurogiri will imbue it with his magic again, for the next trip he must make. Kurogiri hums. "Oh? Did you find difficulties getting to the rendezvous point?" He pictures Fuyumi's angry (and hurt) face when he told her he wouldn't be staying longer. "Something like that, don't worry about it." "Very well," Kurogiri concedes, swiftly turning to the open door behind him. "Toga here?" he asks, following after him. "Lady Himiko is in her personal study as usual," he tells him. "We'll be expecting you both in the main study." "Pick up crazy and make sure she attends the meeting, got it." He turns the opposite way Kurogiri does, the door closing on its own behind them. The citadel is as filthy as ever, he notes. Kurogiri only keeps certain rooms in top condition, he knows. Everything else is left to each room's inhabitants so things like the hallways are all filled with dirt and grime and the occasional trail of blood, dried or otherwise. At least it's not like the dungeons below the citadel, he tells himself. Now that is a cesspool of the worst things imaginable in this world, all in the middle of nowhere in Akutou. Toga's personal study is a close second. He opens the door without knocking once he reaches it. He's long since learned not to bother, if she's in there chances are she's already lost in her own world and won't be coming out or days unless dragged out. She's got a new pet he notices when she turns around and grins at him from her place crouched down at a corner of the room. The gagged and bound man laying on his stomach starts to move as soon as he notices someone else in the room. Not that he'd be able to go anywhere, his legs bent at the knees at awkward angles. He's missing one arm while Toga works on the one left. How the man's still awake he doesn't want to know, he thinks looking at the buckets and bowls of blood Toga has sitting near by. "Hey! You're back!" she says, before wiping at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Not that it helps, instead it smears the blood already splattered on her face further. Still, at least she's wearing something this time around. "Where's the lacryma?" he asks, to the point, stepping around the puddles of blood on the floor, inching closer to the work desk where she keeps most of her toys around. "I'm doing great, thanks for asking! This is my new friend, Lord Ateji Monooba, say hello to Dabi, my lord!" she says with a manic giggle and the man's muffled screams pick up. He stops at that and turns to them. A second passes before he makes his way near them, forgoing stepping around the puddles altogether, the blood splashing under his boots. He crouches by her side and watches the man's eyes widen. Huh, actually recognized him then. That's new, and too bad for the man. Well, not that he would've done anything to take him from Toga's hands anyway. "The ambassador to Hosutawa? Really?" Toga shrugs, delighted. "He was being very very bad, sticking his nose where he shouldn't! So I got the go ahead, and here we are. Getting well acquainted with each other!" "You don't say," he drawls. "But you're gonna have to cut this short, meeting's about to start, you know how his royal pain in the ass gets when he's kept waiting." "Eh- don't wanna, he'll bleed out if I leave now and I'm not gonna miss it!" she pouts at him, but he sees the glint in her eyes. She won't leave before she sees the man die, or - "He won't, if we cauterize the wounds," he points out, hand already aflame with his magic and reaching for the man whose struggles double. "Ooooh, good point! Make sure you don't over do it! Here, let me get you the lacryma while you're at it," she says rising to her feet. "Mhm," he says to here before reaching for the stump where the man's arm used to be, Toga's half ass efforts to keep the wound from bleeding too much. The man's muffled screams rise in volume again. He uses his free hand to hold him down by the back of the man's neck. "The less you squirm the faster this ends," he tells him. Lord Ateji pays him no mind. He sighs annoyed. The open wounds Toga left on the man's other arm burst into small dark flames. He keeps going until he sees the wounds have closed and Toga behind him screams, "Fount it!" He rises at that, wipes the hand that held the stump on his pants, the small specks of dried blood and burnt cloth that kept it from bleeding out falling off. Ateji Monooba breaths heavily, his face full of tears and snot and now of his own blood as his head falls onto the puddle below him. Toga walks back to him, eyes on the man, the red lacryma between her hands. He takes it from it without a word as she crouches back down to poke at ambassador Ateji. He rolls the lacryma in his hands once, twice, before grabbing it firmly, his hands flat against the orb's red surface. He lets his magic expand, lets the fire breathe alongside him. It pulses to the beat of his heart once, twice, thrice. There's an image in his head, of the boy who was, of the discarded. He grabs it, grips it, lets it go aflame in his mind's eye.

He holds it. He lets go. The lacryma pulses, out of rhythm with his heart, and he watches, as he always does, as his magic- as his fire takes over. It dances over his fingers and hands to his wrists, it glides over his clothes, but he feels the changes beneath still. He watches as always, as the steel stitches and patches of dead burnt skin show up as his skin, the unblemished pale tone of the mirage, falls away like embers or kindling. He closes his eyes when he feels the fire reach his neck, lets it run its course all the way to his head and waits. When it ends he opens his eyes and raises one hand to brush his hair, soot falling down onto Toga's dirty floor. His old red hair now completely black. The lacryma orb in his hands is now a dull grey. He sighs. Toga will need to imbue it with her magic again which means he needs to donate more of his blood to her now. Great, he thinks with a silent groan. Another future rant on the power that exists in king's blood. Well, at the very least she'll make sure the way he changes in appearance isn't quite the mess hers is. Small mercies. "Hey," Toga calls out below, blank tone. The hairs on the back of his neck rise. He turns to her, curious but also ready in case she snaps, "What." "If he dies while I'm gone you owe me a new ambassador." He glances at Ateji. Still breathing, but labored enough that it looks like he could die any minute now without proper treatment. Still, if she's willing to let go of this one in exchange for another then fine. He can work with this so he shrugs. There's plenty of other assholes in his father's court, he doubts any of them have become better people in the years he hasn't been around to deal with them. "Got it." She jumps to her feet in an instant and it's only after years of knowing her that he thankfully doesn't immediately either move away or let his flames surround him. "Let's go then!!" she says, already making her way to her door. He doesn't bother pointing out how her robe and the knees of her pants are filthy with fresh blood. "Hey," he calls out to her as she reaches the door. She turns, eyebrow raised. He takes his own cloak and the bag he's been carrying off. "Mind if I leave these here in the mean time?" It's safe enough. Toga only allows a handful of people into her room or personal study and from those that come in no one would care about his things enough to snoop around or possibly damage his stuff. He'd burn their hands off otherwise, as the lot around them have come to find. Plus what he's brought over can only be read by a different handful of people as is. "Don't care, go ahead," she says before going out of sight. He drops them on a fairly clean, for this room anyway, chair tucked to the wall by the door and walks after her. The door closes behind him. She's skipping away, quite a few steps in front of him until they reach the main study. The old door creaks as she pushes it open far enough that he'll be visible behind her. "We're here!" she announces just as he manages to keep the door from closing on him. "You're late!!" that annoying voice he'd gladly do without barks out. Dabi glances at him briefly before taking a mocking bow towards the head of the table. Toga and a couple of others already sitting giggle and snort, barely restraining themselves. "Deepest apologies, your highness," he says when he stands tall again walking towards the chair Toga's pulled out for him with a grin. The one sitting at the head of the table however is less than amused. Tomura Shigaraki growls at him, ruby red eyes just barely visible with how much he's glaring his way and if looks could kill- Well, he'd been dead a long time ago. Kurogiri stands at his side, calling everyone's attention. He starts as always, going around asking everyone about their missions and their completion. Some of them preparations that have been going on for decades now, before he himself was even born. Still, he waits his turn and in the mean time he watches their fearless leader, more of a fumbling heir of nothing than actual mastermind. He notices with small interest that two lacryma fragments have been added to the black-gold circlet Tomura wears on his head. The large diamond-cut red lacryma that sits at the middle front, covering most of Tomura's forehead and placed over the shaggy silver hair, is now adorned by two circle-cut blue lacryma shards. The sun-shaped black-gold that sits at the back of said circlet remains the same from what he can see peeking out behind Tomura's head, giving the allusion of a halo over the man's head. He almost snorts at that. From what he sees, on further inspection, there's nothing new about the man, save the open cut on his lip he keeps biting at as his eyes remain on whoever is speaking, biting at it particularly vicious when he clearly doesn't like what he hears. The same choker of black lacrymas sits on a pale and thin neck, and from it small chains linking to the cloth of the, as far as he guesses, ceremonial garb Tomura wears during meetings (or is it, is forced to wear? Dabi wonders; when they meet outside of meetings, the man seems more at ease wearing black trousers, a simple black shirt, and the unusual and eye-catching red-leather shoes he favors). Aside from how it's obvious he's getting even less sleep than usual, he doesn't notice much else- Toga pokes at his arm. "Mm?" he stares down at her grin, all sharp teeth. "Your report, if you would be so kind," Kurogiri says from the front. Ah, he was caught looking, he realizes when Tomura looks at him, more suspicious than annoyed. "What already?" Tomura bites out. He waits. He's already been caught staring so- He raises his hand, pointer and middle finger spread wide as he pokes at his own forehead to where the new lacryma fragments sit on Tomura's circlet. Tomura gives him his full glare again. "That's none of your concern!" Dabi shrugs. He turns his gaze to Kurogiri instead. "I got what you asked for." "And the recruits?" Kurogiri questions him. He thinks back to the scum that had been sent his way, the ones he had to meet before entering Doryoku's capital. Utter garbage, the lot of them. "Ashes," he answers simply. Not a single one of them had been worth a damn. Tomura scoffs at his answer but Kurogiri nods, understanding. "Very well," Kurogiri says, motioning to everyone in the room. All eyes turn to Tomura. Tomura leans back into his chair and speaks, voice icy and void of anything but utter madness, "Time to set the stage for the next Act."

Chapter 5 - The Obstinate King

Two months. It's a short time, but feels like an eternity to one Enji Todoroki, 36th ruler of Doryoku, heir to the great fire of Honoo and sire to the prince of promise. Two months. That's how long he must wait before the new era begins. That's how long he must wait before the start of the fall of men. Two months. A lifetime he has spent preparing. Two months. Until the Gyousei is set to fall, over the clear blue sky of Doryoku. Two months. Every sacrifice will have meaning, every struggle will have worth, and every drop of blood, sweat, and tears will not have fallen in vain. Two months. And come what may, no matter the might or magic, Doryoku will remain standing. Even if it means standing over the ashes of age-old allies. It will be worth it all, he tells himself, looking over the royal capital from the tallest tower of his castle, streets below lit up by light lacrymas. It will be worth it all, he tells himself, his back facing the portrait of Honoo Todoroki, first of her name, daughter of the old broken empire and mother of rebirth. It will be worth it all, he tells himself as he's told himself over and over since the death of his father, since he heard the prophecy of the end, since he realized just what he would have to do to give his kingdom absolute victory.

Chapter 6 - The Chosen, The Anomaly, Sui Generis

Izuku wakes to the shrill sound of the tea pot that sits on one of the many desks inside his family's study, the one placed right by the study's door. He slides off his chair when he does so, groaning from where he lays on the floor as the tea pot keeps calling for him. He knows his mom must have left it there earlier, being an even earlier riser than he. She's likely already at the Royal Library. The sun's first rays pour in from the large window to the side of large room, bringing light into the darkness. He rolls onto his back, pushing the chair further back with his legs, before rubbing away the sleep from his eyes with his hands. He raises them with a sigh, blinking into focus. Even in this small light he sees his hands clearly; he sees the multiple scars that run over all ten of his fingers, and the bigger, larger scars that run half way to his elbow on his right arm. Scars tell a story, he remembers being told once. But does it even matter if I don't know said story, he wonders, feels his agitation work its way up his throat as he flops back onto his stomach with a groan. Thoughts for another day, he promises himself, as he has for the past fifteen years. He makes quick work to stretch his muscles out as he drags himself to his feet and to the tea pot. His neck is too stiff, a constant reminder that he's growing old and doesn't that just suck. He's really gotta invest some time in building a more comfortable chair, something to support his neck- but then again it wouldn't matter much if he's just going to fall asleep face first into his desk anyway. He yawns, grabbing around the tea pot, mindful of the steam coming out of it, to the small plate of orange slices his mom always leaves for him. With his clean hand he reaches for the flower-print mitt, sliding his hand inside it, then grabs the tea pot and slowly pours it into the empty cup that had been left there. He takes a moment to stop chewing as he sets the tea pot back down and breathes in the scent of his mother's home grown kikuka herbs. Belatedly, he realizes he's missing a sock as he lifts his leg up to stretch some more, balanced precariously on one foot. His back pops when he sets it down and he rolls his shoulders and bends slightly backwards before repeating the process with his other leg. He needs to bring a couch into the study. Or his bed. Or better yet, he hears in his mind, a collection of different voices from his mom to the Crown Prince to his jisei, telling him the same thing; stop sleeping on your desk, fix your sleeping schedule, get it together. Yeah, that's not happening, he thinks, only slightly guilty, as he makes his way back to the desk he had fallen asleep on, one mitt-covered hand holding his tea cup and the other the last two orange slices between his fingers. Last night his mom had come for him and Todoroki just before the Royal Library's closing time, approximately an hour before the last bell of the day rang throughout the capital. It was worth it, in multiple ways, seeing the Crown Prince so relaxed as he recalled his favorite parts of book Izuku had suggested to him, seeing a young man of twenty years with not a care in the world as opposed to someone who held a too-heavy weight on his shoulders. He's glad, that in those moments he gets to see his friend like that. On the other hand, he's lost precious hours from sleeping so late as he got everything ready. He could have been gone at the same time as his mom, before the sun rose. He looks over his desk with a frown. Scattered all over the round semi-circle that makes his primary desk and place of work, are his many notes and reference books along with pens, inkwells, and parchments. All of course, coded for his sole benefit. It's a Midoriya habit really, creating a personal code of sorts alongside learning the Royal Library's code that every Head Scribe must memorize for the moment when they are entrusted with the role. Still, while his mom created her's to keep her cooking recipes secret, he's harboring something entirely different in those ink-lines. Something that could be equally his salvation as his doom. But he has more hope than he knows what to do with, so salvation it'll have to be. He sits back into his chair, pushes paper and pens away to make way for his cup of tea. He lets the mitt fall into his lap and keeps the dirty hand from the orange slices near his mouth, biting at the nails as his clean hand sets to sort out everything before he goes off and takes a shower. He pauses at a single sheet of paper, leaning back into his chair as he looks it over, his carefully drawn out ryou-wari, the open, wing-like petals and teeth-like stamens. He takes a quick look to the calendar that rests on the wall by the door of the study. The ryou-wari are set to bloom in a couple of days. He has a day of preparation to get through.

An hour and fifteen minutes, that's how long it take Izuku to clear the mess that is his study- to the best of his abilities-, take a shower, have an complete breakfast, and get his bag ready with everything he would need for the upcoming week. He makes quick work to leave everything as tidy as possible for both his mom and their single maid, miss Arane. Making sure to leave a legible enough note for his mom, he leaves their home. The current Midoriya estate for all intent and purpose is very small in comparison to the estate where his mom was born and raised. The study he's come to call his own is the largest room inside, the rest are just slightly larger than what you'd find in a commoner's home. Not that his mother minds too much, or him for that matter, the new estate being built from the royal coffers instead of the Midoriya's. Not that the king had minded that one bit, Izuku thinks with a grim line at his lips. After all, it was the Crown Prince's magic that burned the old estate down. After all, it was the Crown Prince's fire that burned it down. He shakes his head as he slips his usual white leather gloves on over his scarred hands. No use thinking about that, he tells himself as he makes sure the door is properly locked and the lightning lacrymas by the door are in place. Shouto's better now, has been for years, that's what matters, he reminds himself, walking down the short stone path that leads to the gate of the estate. There's no need to think about the satisfied look on king Enji's face when he saw just how powerful Shouto's magic really was. There's not need to think about it.

The royal capital of Doryoku, Irori though rarely called that, starts bustling to life around midday really, not that people aren't awake before that mind you, but people tend to keep to themselves during the beginning of the day- getting ready to set up shop and the like. Any time after that however was a terrible time to roam the streets if one was in a hurry. So it's easy enough to make his way to where he needs to be, this early in the day. The roads are fairly empty save for the few people and their carriages full of stock making their way towards the inner circle of the city, in front of the royal castle. The shopping district, Gadebo, will at midday open its gates to the general public and until the final bell of the day it will be filled with life. He doesn't need to go there today, however. No, he needs to be just a little further south than that and a little closer to the west, to the district bordering between Gadebo and the district holding the royal army's headquarters, Seishukashi, which cuts off the district Sakaba from the rest of the capital's acknowledged border. No, Izuku needs to make his way to the small district of Kakki.

It takes him about a little over an hour, the eighth bell of the day having rung, to enter Kakki's area. He saves time having hitched rides from the few people he managed to come across on their way to Gadebo and Seishukashi both. Everyone had been kind enough to let him, even those who hadn't quite recognized him as heir to a noble house, though it's always better that way. Once he returns from his trip, however, he needs to go visit those that did recognize him, and give them their thanks properly as custom dictates. He figures out the little favors he can pull off, on the ride to district Kakki. He bids old Mister Kurisimu farewell, hopping off the back of the man's horse. Mister Kurisimu laughs. "Now you be good, young man, and say hello to your mother for me!" Izuku nods. "Please let the missus know I'll have her next book recommendations for her when I come back!" Mister Kurisimu nods with a smile, before turning back towards the road leading to Seishukashi. Izuku watches as the horse trots away before making his way into the heart of district Kakki. Kakki, like the rest of the smaller districts that have yet to eaten up by a bigger district, is peaceful yet full of motion. The people here setting up their homes and shops together, not bothering to rent out space in Gadebo (if they don't already have it as part of their family lineage) and finding it a bigger comfort to work from their own homes. Small restaurants, inns, flower shops, magic item shops with things other than lacrymas, patisseries, armories not affiliated with the royal army meant for personal designs, and all sorts of other things. Cheaper too, than what one would find within the shops of the district of Gadebo. He waves at those who see him as he makes his way through the small compact streets of Kakki. This is in turn why most carriages don't pass through the district, choosing to go around it instead. When he spots his destination he can't help but hasten his steps a bit in excitement. He smiles at the two floor home, one of the oldest buildings in the district that has by some miracle not fallen completely apart or been renovated besides a patch work here and there. The sign above the open double doors read's the gentle fist. He enters the jack-of-all-trades shop, passes the small pot with flowers from Hosutawa and the many random magical trinkets littered about on the floor and resting against the walls. "Hello?" he calls out, trying to find the bell in the mess that is the front desk. "Anybody home?" Silence greets him. He's on time, he knows he is, and unless they got a very important job to do immediately (and that's doubtful) they wouldn't have left the shop unattended- "You're early," he hears from behind him. Kazuho Haneyama, three years his senior, stands at the doors, arms full with two bags of freshly baked bread from the Taizou's, two street back. "Hello, miss Kazuho," he greets her, reaching for one of the bags. Kazuho rolls her eyes at him. "How many times do I have to tell you to drop the 'miss', already? C'mon, the old man and Kouichi are in the back," she tells him before grumbling that she's told those idiots not to leave the front desk unattended time and time again. Izuku chuckles lightly, following after her past the front desk and into the door that leads further inside. They pass the small space that consists of the kitchen and dining area, the doors that lead to bedrooms, and the workshop that's an even bigger mess than the front of the store. The last door and room at the end of the building is where Izuku needs to be. "Hey, he's here already," Kazuho announces as she opens the door and steps inside. There's another work table in this room too, though surprisingly enough it isn't like the clutters from before. Kouichi Haimawari, seven years his senior, sits on a high stool, magik pen in hand ready to write another sign into the lacryma in his hand to infuse it with magic. "Oh, hey Izuku!" he greets him. Their jisei- master sits on a too small sofa for his larger than life frame. The man's head turns their way and he breaks out a grin that's more teeth than anything else. As always he has a visible scar on the left side of his face that catches everyone's attention and his eyes, though turned their way, look at nothing. The man's blindness has never stopped him though. "You're losing daylight, boy," Takeshi Kuroiwa laughs. Kazuho snorts. "Yeah right, he's early. Anyway, he's got his bread, I'm taking this to the kitchen, he's all yours," she says before exiting the room and closing the door behind her. Izuku sets about taking his things out of his bag and onto the table, careful not to get on Kouichi's way. "Sorry about all this," he tells them, like always, so much in fact that it's practically a greeting by now. He can't get any of the things he needs without being asked too many questions after all. Kuroiwa laughs and Kouichi shakes his head. "It's not problem, just be careful out there at least," Kouichi says, writing onto the lacryma orb, smaller than the regular kind that's manufactured. "Don't be an idiot," their master says. "And bring back results," Kouichi cuts in. "Eventually," Izuku says to him with a laugh. "Eventually." ""Sides," Kouichi starts, squinting one eye at the lacryma orb as his signs get smaller and smaller, surprising finesse with a magik pen Izuku wishes he could replicate. Not that Izuku could use one, ever. "This is still a job, you know. We ain't gonna half ass it and leave you hanging. We do our job correctly, you'll eventually do your other end of the deal." "I'm in no hurry," their master calls from the side, but they both ignore it. "I know," Izuku tells Kouichi, once he's emptied his bag. "Don't worry I haven't forgotten and I'm not giving up." Kouichi looks up at him and smiles. "I know." "So," Izuku starts, looking around the table, "what were you able to get me this time around?" Kouichi sets the lacryma down, having finished with it. He gestures to the table. "Enough protective wards to paralyze a small squad of knights, or bears in this case, the magic circle over there to turn most of everything you're gonna carry around-" "You remember to carry light, boy?" their master calls out. Izuku tells him he did. Kouichi starts again. "Into smaller versions of themselves, like always remember to rip the magic circle in half when you're ready or your bag will explode once you cross the threshold. Old school matches for small fires, just in case! A more than capable set of first aid, bandages, healing creams and ointments along with small temporary sealing wards in case of extreme emergencies, the whole deal!" He gestures to the lacryma he was working on. "My personal lacryma so you can get to your starting point quickly, and," he motions to another lacryma, clear sky blue in color, "an invincibility lacryma to aid in that too. Doesn't last forever though." "Got it." Kouichi motions under the table. "Enough rope to probably last you, if you plan on going off your path." "He won't get lost," master cuts in. "Just in case," Kouichi concedes. "It's thin so just be careful not to use it to lift something too heavy or it'll break apart." Izuku nods, taking care to notice everything. The things they got ready for him and all of his things, from notebooks and pens to extra food. Kouichi motions to the last lacryma, regular size and yellow in color. "The communication lacryma, it's enough for three uses instead of the usual four, sorry that's as much as we could get with the money we had left after this," he says, motioning to the magik pen. "That's fine," Izuku assures him. "I just need it to let you know when I'm about to cross the threshold and then when I return. The extra two are just precautionary, I'm sure I can do with just one more." "Alrighty, and that's it from what you asked fo- ah! That's right!" Kouichi says as he turns in his stool and grabs something hanging from the wall behind him. "Pop-Step's been working on these," referring to Kazuho by her underground broker name. He sets two sheets black magic circles down on the table. "These wards are supposed to mimic her magic, and she's been pouring her magic into them slowly enough over the months to get them to be near untraceable. Near though, not completely, so we won't know-" "Until I step into the forbidden forest and it spits me out because of them," Izuku finishes. "Yeah, so no promises. Come to think of it, she did mention, I think," he says, face scrunching up a bit as he looks to the ceiling, "that she's heard about this rumor about lacrymas that can destroy someone's magic going around in the underground." "It's bullshit," their master's magic cuts in, harder and harsher than Izuku could have ever expected. "It's one thing to naturally be born without magic, it's another thing entirely to get rid of something so vital to a person." Kouichi nods, then shrugs. "Dunno, she mentioned it's just a rumor, so it might not be a big deal or anything." "I'll keep in mind," he says, and he will. Something like that, it's better to always keep an ear open about anything that could potentially harm someone or their ability to use magic. It was during the Lacryma Revolution Era that people with the natural magic to momentarily shut off or weaken another person's magic tried to use lacrymas to rid others of their magic as theirs could barely be considered one to begin with, at the time. The creation of the first magik pen ended up stopping the 70 year long conflict and only by a miracle. "So that's it," Kouichi says, "put all your things on the shrinking magic circle and I'll get started on those first, then the stuff we got you, you'll just have to carry the invincibility lacryma and the lacryma that holds my magic in it and you'll be good to go!" "That's fine," Izuku says, as he sets his record keeping notebooks, the pens, ink well, reference book, drawing book, canned food and fresh bread on the circle. He steps back as Kouichi bites into his thumb, placing the bloody finger tip on it. Magic rises from the corners of the magic circle in threads of white light, reaching over the contents on top of it to come together then expanding leaving a dome of white light over Izuku's things. It glows for ten seconds before it opens, much like a flower bud would. The magic dissipates, inside the things he'd brought over, that he'd have to carry in both arms, now fit on the palm of his hand. They repeat the process with the rest of the things save for Kazuho's sheets of magic circles. "And done," Kouichi says, handing everything to Izuku with great care. "Go have an adventure, try not to come back with any big scars and please, please don't die." Izuku laughs, setting the tools into his bag, making sure to put the right things in the correct pockets. He doesn't want his bag to rip open because everything came to it's true size in a pocket too small. He carefully folds the shrinking magic circle until it's small enough to fit into the breast pocket of his green vest. "Not planning on it. It's just a small trip to Oumaga, remember?" he says, conspiratorially. As far as his mom knows from his note, as far as his friends know, and as far as the Crown Prince knows, he's just going to take a small trip to the town of Oumaga, bordering Doryouku and the kingdom of Hosutawa. A small trip no longer than a week and a half tops. Kouichi laughs. "No, seriously though." "I'll be fine, I'll be taking great care, promise," he tells him before turning to their master. Jisei Kuroiwa senses this and grins at him, at his general area. "This ain't no field trip. You're going into the Forbidden Forest, the one place no one is supposed to go to or there will be consequences." Izuku knows this. "Don't do anything stupid," the old man says, motioning to his scar and unseeing eyes. "You remember the three rules?" "No magic inside the Forbidden Forest, save for that which already exists there," he starts reciting. "Do not harm any of the creatures there and they will be your friends, to the point that they'll to bring you edible fruits and berries. And lastly," Izuku pauses, taking a deep breath, "If you come across the guardian of the forest, avert your eyes, bow your head, kneel if necessary, until you feel them move on. Or else." "Or else," his jisei nods along. "That shitty golden stag is way too territorial if you ask me," he says with a snort. "But hey, it's that guy's turf, it's their rules." "I understand." "Careful with your little experiments," he warns him, "I never really tried taking any of the plants around, I can't say what'll happen if you try to take any." "I'm mostly working with fallen leaves or stems when I do bring things over, nothing's been out of the ordinary yet. If this next batch grows well enough I'll see what I can do to bring a fresh specimen over," Izuku says. "That place is enormous, I'm sure there's something there capable of healing grave wounds." His work depends on it. To be even be considered to be allowed to take the alchemist-healer exam, he needs to prove he doesn't need magic. To heal jisei Kuroiwa's blindness caused by magic within the forest itself. To heal the legs of Tenya's older brother, Tensei, the heir to house Iida. To show he's more than worthy of being Head Scribe from his own merits, and not just a lucky, poor soul who was born into his position despite his disability, the words of king Enji. To prove most of all, that it doesn't matter who his father was, only who Izuku himself is.

Notes:

Ch3

For the curious, All Might isn't immortal but there is a reason why and how he's managed to live for as long as he has which will be brought up during his future POV chapters!

Ch4

I know regardless if you buy into the 'Dabi is a Todoroki' theory or not, Dabi in canon still chooses not to give out his real name until the time is right. Circumstances are a bit different in this AU however, so his status as the second prince of Doryoku is more or less an open secret (to those who recognize him as such anyway)- that no one points out if they know what's good for them!

Sakaba is taken from 酒場 which means 'pub' or 'bar', in reference to Kurogiri's bar may it rest in peace amen

Akutou comes from 悪党 which means 'villain', because I am as subtle as a sledgehammer to the knee.

Another thing brought over from Fire Emblem, like Yaomomo's outfit, is Shiggy's crown which is based on Mikoto's from FE: Fates of course with slight changes and being black in color.

Shiggy's outfit is partially inspired by this fanart please go like and reblog from the artists blog!

Video games don't exists in this AU, so I guess Shiggy's gotta be a theater brat ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ch6

#Irori is taken from 囲炉裏 or 'sunken hearth'

#Gadebo is just 'bodega', spanish for convenience store/mini mart, and the district itself is more or less a huge, and I mean huuuuge, farmer's market/shopping mall

#Seishukashi comes from 聖守護天使 or holy guardian angel, but taking the 天 "sky" and switching it in with 火 "fire",

#Kakki is taken from 客気 or rashness

[katsukibakugo]

thinking about the moment when we strayed into the right path

Summary: When one Izuku, heir to house Midoriya and loyal subject of the kingdom of Doryoku, finds himself caring for a stolen dragon's egg he'll unknowingly become part of a conspiracy threatening to dismantle his kingdom and a prophecy threatening to destroy the world.

ao3: [Prologue], [ch1], [ch2]

Prologue, Ch1, Ch2 plus notes under cut  (5.7k words) 

Prologue

He's never given much thought to death- least of all his own. It is bound to happen eventually, he might as well just focus on the now. Living every day to the fullest, that sort of thing. What little thought he had given it was the expectation that he would die of old age, in his sleep, maybe surrounded by family but more than likely surrounded by the books of the Royal Library like most Head Scribes in his family before him. Nothing really exciting. So. So, bleeding out somewhere in the middle of the Forbidden Forest leaning against a mossy rock, after just barely managing to escape from some awful bandits, by himself because he had not let anyone know where he was going? And with a lap full of a hatchling dragon, that's in part filthy from his own blood and the dirt and leafs that got stuck to it, crying out at him? That's- Definitely more exciting. An unwanted outcome sure, but definitely more exciting. Still though, Midoriya Izuku refuses to die. Not here. Not now. Not yet. He raises a hand towards the hatchling, watching it rub its small head into the palm of his hand with soft cries, like it was worried for him. He huffs, amused, thinking back to the countless hours he'd spend on the Royal Library after closing time, surrounded by tome after tome on magic and dragons- creatures of old, creatures so rare now most think them nothing more than old tales used to scare naughty children with (he knows better). He remembers the Legend of the Seven, led by the first king and the primodial dragon, Unuzu, and how they banded together in order to defeat the One, the source of all evil, and in the process gifted magic to the entire world, giving birth to a new era. He remember reading about the first king and Unuzu, partners in life and death alike, a bond so strong it couldn't simply be called that of a master and beast. A dragon's intellect is grand and vast, he'd once read, their inability to speak common tongue like the rest of the world's inhabitants notwithstanding. He feels guilty, making the little one worry like this. They're just a newborn, recently hatched, and so far away from home. It doesn't deserve to suffer one bit. He grits his teeth, pain suddenly flaring up from his gut, the little dragon's claws digging into the open wound on accident as it tries it's best to clumsily climb his torso. "Ow, there," Izuku says, weakly clicking his tongue down at the hatchling, more exasperated than anything. The cries get a little louder. Izuku shushes them softly. "It's alright, everything will be alright, you'll see," he tells it, tries to be as soothing as possible when he's feeling anything but calm. In fact, he's starting to not feel much of anything at all, he should worry about that... "I'll get you home just like I promised. Oh, wait, maybe you don't remember, I mean you were an egg still, could you even hear me," he murmurs under his breath, not aware of how his voice slurs at the end, how his hand drops from the hatchling's head, how his eyes start to close. He doesn't notice the soft breeze that passes by, rustling leafs all around and even if he had been conscious enough he would have missed the cracking of branches on the ground all the same. His eyes close just as someone enters the clearing, footsteps no longer silent but heavy stomps the closer they get. Unconscious, he misses the way the newcomer radiates heat and anger both, crackling sparks visible near clenched fists. He misses the second newcomer as well, just seconds behind the first. Unconscious Izuku misses the way the hatchling cries out, tiny little hisses thrown at the newcomers, its small wings desperately trying to flutter open and widen as if to shield him from view. Small, scared, but brave. Protective. He misses most of all the inferno that looks down at him; eyes so red Izuku might have called them rubies. 

Chapter 1 - The Vindictive Prince

The sky is clear, a beautiful soft blue background to the vermilion eagles flying overhead. Eijirou takes in the view with a sense of envy, they're so far up just barely noticeable even with his superior eyesight, riding the wind as easy as breathing with no a care in the world. He watches the leader of the flock, the brightest underbelly of red and orange feathers and the longest wingspan of dark brown feathers. It's the leader and protector of the flock, without them it all falls apart. At a safe distance away from where he sits on the green grass of the fields of Ogenos is another spectacle of reds, oranges, and browns. At a safe distance away he watches his best friend and prince rage on and on and on. If it were any other occasion he would watch on in awe. His respect for the royal family, for the prince's strength and resolve and humanity (no matter how much he may try to hide it) is incomparable. He's always loved seeing his friend's magic, the spontaneity, and distinction in power and force of each explosion the young prince can manifest at will has always, without fault, caught his eye. This is different however, and it sits uncomfortably heavy in Eijirou's heart. This isn't his prince at six years old showing how much more splendid his sparks are compared to the firecrackers handed out during the annual Korona festival. This isn't his prince at twelve years old taking on two Vurucan warthogs, the size of grown men, because he'd heard how they'd been messing up the crops for the people of the outer prairie of Arugenta. This isn't even his friend at seventeen using his magic to send himself sky high with loud cackles to soar along the sky with- "He's yet to tire himself out, huh." Eijirou turns back, looking over his shoulder. Grandmaster Lieutenant and head of the Heir's Guard (and his boss technically), Yaoyorozu Momo, stands, pulling the Guard's long red mantle off from her shoulders. Beside her, Jirou Kyouka, healer in training and their mutual friend, watches the scene in front of them with a frown. "He's going to do more than tire himself out at this rate," Kyouka says as Yaomomo sets the mantle down beside Eijirou for both of them to sit on. "Mana exhaustion is no joke." "Her Grace has ordered us to keep him under watch," Yamomo tells him. Eijirou frowns at that. "Pretty sure what he needs right now is space or you know a solution to this mess, not all of us watching him like a bunch of Chouten hawks," he points out. Surely the Queen doesn't think her son would go and do something stupid like endanger their people (himself? fine, even Eijirou can agree that's pretty likely). "'Sides its not like he can cross Gadian Forest-" The biggest explosion yet erupts, the consequent wind carrying dust into them hard enough to force them to try and remain upright (Yaomomo putting her hand on Kyouka's back to keep her from falling backwards). With it, it carries the prince's screams, absolute fury in every syllable- "I'll kill them!! Every single last one!!"

If the others can hear the pain as clearly as Eijirou does, they don't mention it.

"Not on foot, no," Yaomomo says after a while. "Well, he's not flying anywhere right now either," he mutters, can't help the sadness he feels from pouring out with every word. All three of them turn backwards. Further away, at the entrance to the fields of Ogenos lays one of the most beautiful dragons Eijirou's ever seen in all of Seinenshin, and he has seen plenty. Bigger than a commoner's house with red scales turning black as they near 4 sets of claws and a snout. It lays, almost as if dead on the ground, taking agonizingly slow breaths with it's head lazily lying over its front paws. Its wings aren't even tucked into itself, as if it was too much trouble to bring them in, instead opting out to let them fall open taking up enormous space around them. Agony radiates from the creature in suffocating waves. The pride of the royal family, of Seinenshin. The prince's soul companion. Akabane, the Dreaded (according to the prince) and Adored (according to the people). If Kirishima EIjirou considers his prince his best friend, Bakugou Katsuki considers his dragon his, first and foremost. "It wasn't just any egg that was stolen, you know."

Chapter 2 - The Promised Prince

The thing about friends, one Todoroki Shouto has come to find, is that the more you know someone the more one can predict their behaviors. So he's neither shocked nor offended that he's been forgotten, the second cup of tea resting on one of the many tables in his room already cold. He feels- fond. A little exasperated but fond nonetheless. At his bedroom's door Itsuka of house Kendou stands, smile sheepish as she regards him. "Would you like me to send for him, Your Grace?" Shouto shakes his head, rising from his eat. "No need, I'll go to him myself." There's only one place he'd be at this hour, goes unsaid. "Very well, Your Grace," Itsuka says with a low bow before exiting his room, the sound of her boots loud enough even after the door closes behind her. He walks to the dresser placed nearest his bed, grabbing the book he'd left on top of it the night before after he had finished it. If he's going to make his way to the Royal Library he might as well go ahead and return it. It was quite the read, though he's not surprised that Izuku once again managed to pick yet another novel that's to his liking. Shouto wonders if he's just that obvious (he certainly hopes not) or if Izuku is that good in his recommendations (he's never heard otherwise, from gossips he's listened in on or from their mutual acquaintances). He runs his fingers over the cover, newly restored by Head Scribe Inko. It's yet another part of her personal restoration project as Head Scribe, already close to being 10 years old, and still finding the support from nobles and countrymen alike. Though he already knows this one, and it's series in particular, she wasn't able to salvage the author's name (and though Izuku already has given him his theories on which Lacryma Revolution Era author penned the novel) he's still glad and thankful for her work. Had the project failed from the start like his father thought it would, his collection would consist entirely of whatever his father deemed necessary- the majority of which would be nothing but books and older tomes on war and tactics. He shakes his head in distaste. No need to give his father any thought more than necessary. He's already done everything asked of him, by his father and all his many tutors. This much at the very least is his. This he wont be able to take from him. With that in mind he tucks the book under his arm and makes his way out of his room. Outside the head of his personal guard stands with two more knights. Captain Mizushima salutes him, palm open over his heart, the military's way of representing the crest of his royal line- the burning heart. Conviction. Perseverance. Shouto believes his father took all that and only managed to pick up bullheadedness. Knights Togata and Amajiki bow, Togata sending him a small wave behind Captain Mizushima. Shouto quirks a smile his way. He'd wave back but Captain Mizushima is a stickler for the rules- even the ridiculously old ones like knights and lower shouldn't speak to the royal line unless spoken to first. Something about believing in the integrity they hold from the past and wanting to be a good example to the rest of the knighthood and the brass up top. "I'll be heading to the library," he says to the captain, already walking around and away from the man and into the hall. Mizushima doesn't miss a step, already walking alongside him. "We'll be heading with you then, your grace." "It's just the library captain, I'm sure you've other things to attend to." "Nonsense, there's no more important duty to a soldier of Doryoku than to watch over the royal line-" the captain starts and that's when Shouto decides to zone him out. He's heard that speech one too many times from one too many people. He focuses instead of picking out the most likely sections of the library for Izuku to be caught up in. The restricted section is nine times out of ten the place where he'll be, nose deep in barely readable tomes about the Forbidden Forest or anything relating to The Time of Darkness- the era before magic came into the world. Then again he could be stuck anywhere else for that matter too. Shouto once stuck around for hours in the library looking for his friend only for them to be in the botany section, hidden in the furthest back of the entire building updating and cross checking different plants and seeds. The walk to the Royal Library is always a long one, the building itself being connected with the castle- or at least the original castle since his father decided to expand, putting quite a distance between the Royal Library, particularly the Head Scribe's office, and the chambers of government. To enter the library one has to first leave the new castle and enter the old one. In his case, it means leaving the east wing of the new castle to get past the west wing of the old one and into the Royal Library. The only other entry to the Royal Library sits outside the castle line, a small building that connects the library and the capital through an underground tunnel, though big enough for carriages to go through, it's still quite the walk no matter what route one takes. It's a hassle, but good exercise nonetheless (and if in his head Shouto hears Tenya say the last part, well no one has to know). As he exits into the gardens that connect the new castle with the old he spots a familiar figure leaving the gardens. "Brother!" Shouto cries out, speeds up leaving behind Captain Mizushima and the knights. The second prince of Doryoku stops just as he's ready to take the last stair into the east wing of the old castle but doesn't turn around, not fully. Prince Ryouga simply looks over his shoulder. The vibrant teal eyes of their father, the shade Shouto shares on one eye, sit on his face, gaze bored as he waits. His hair's gotten longer, Shouto realizes with a pang on his heart. It's been years since he last saw his brother, either of them. The dark maroon tresses can now cover his brother's eyes if he so wished. They still hold the untameness Ryouga's known for, the one his father likes to think no one knows of or will ever find out so long as he keeps his own hair short and to the point. "Well if it isn't the crown jewel," Ryouga drawls still not bothering to turn and face Shouto. "Brother, did you just arrive today?" Shouto asks instead, letting the insult, because that's what it is, fly past him. Their sister always reminds Shouto that their brothers love him, and though he doesn't doubt it not really, he's not so blind as to not see the resentment in his elder brothers' eyes. "As a matter of fact, I did," Ryouga says, turning his head back and stepping fully into the east wing of the old castle. Ryouga and Himuro's rooms located in the old castle by their own choosing much to the annoyance of their father. Shouto knows that's exactly why they picked to have them there in the first place. Shouto catches up to him. "I take you've seen father?" he asks. It might explain brother's mood if anything. "Not at all," Ryouga says with a shrug, "Father had better, more important things to attend to so I just let his secretary know I'm alive and not sticking around."   Shouto startles at this. "You're leaving already?!" he asks running to place himself in front of his brother. "You just got back! It's been 5 years, brother!" Ryouga raises a brow at him in return. "Oh, you noticed? How kind of you," he says walking around Shouto. "Have you at least seen Fuyumi?" he asks, his steps hurrying to match his older brother's long strides. Shouto vaguely hears Captain Mizushima and the knights behind them, keeping a respectful distance away. "I'll see her on my way out so she can't nag my ears off." "You should at least stay for dinner, tell us of your travels," Shouto tries to bargain with him. Ryouga stops abruptly. He raises his left hand, and counts, finger by finger, "I saw grass, more grass, a mountain, what I thought was the sea but was actually a really big lake, and some cows. Happy?" "I'm sure there's more to tell," Shoutou says, feeling dejected. Ryouga shrugs, stuffing his head into his trouser's pockets. "Not much to tell, sorry to disappoint. If you want stories wait for Himuro and ask him what its like to protect the kingdom borders. As for me, so long as it's not this place, under father's thumb, I'm good with wherever, I don't need an adventure." Shoutou drops his gaze to the ground. He can understand that, truly, but it doesn't ease the hurt either way. Ryouga sighs. "Look, it's been nice seeing you, kid. You've gotten bigger again," his brother says, reaching over and ruffling his hair much to Shouto's small and for-show protests. "Weren't you at like, my belly button last time?" Shouto gives a small scoff. "I was 15, not a toddler. We were around the same height." Ryouga snorts. "See now that's just gotta be a lie." Shouto shakes his head, sad and fond all the same. "Anyway, I gotta pack some stuff up and find Fuyumi, so later kid. Stay alive," his brother says, walking away into another hall. Shouto wishes he'd take the longer route to his room, stay with him a bit longer and just- talk. He doesn't realize he stands there for a while, watching his brother walk away and go out of sight at a corner, until Captain Mizushima calls him. Shouto shakes his head, doesn't respond and turns back to the direction of the Royal Library. At least he got to see him, Shouto tells himself. As the starts to set on the outside, multiple light lacrymas mounted across the halls and rooms come to life. It almost feels, Shouto thinks wistfully, like the lights are leading him to a better, happier place.

The Royal Library is the biggest collection of books, tomes, scrolls, and knowledge period in all of Doryoku and the surrounding kingdom of Hosutawa and the Republic of Akutou. It is as old as the kingdom of Doryoku itself is. It is also for a fact bigger than the older castle and likely the reason why his father went and had a grander, if not in size but architecture, castle made for himself. Though the entrance between the Royal Library and older castle is heavily guarded it doesn't diminish the welcoming feeling Shouto finds at the sight of the large golden doors. He takes a second to appreciate the simplicity of the white marble of the Royal Library and the way it continues to stand tall and strong even with such age and history... Just as the Todoroki family has existed to lead the kingdom of Doryuko since the days of Honoo, first of her name, so have five important families (though the bloodlines for two are extinct now, only the chosen heirs of the last blood decedents keeping the names alive). House Tsukauchi, founded by Shizuka the Just. House Sakamata, founded by Una the Valiant. House Iida, founded by Hayao the Steadfast. House Shiozaki, founded by Miwa the Faithful. And lastly house Midoriya, founded by Akio the Honest. Though each family's importance within the governing body has changed over the years, and depending on the ruler, they are without a doubt the noble great houses of Doryoku. Social scandals not withstanding. Still, the welcoming feeling the Royal Library gives from the outside frankly triples once one steps inside. Head Scribe Inko's hard work in not only bringing every page she can find to top quality but also expanding sitting areas, connecting isles in each floor at different intervals. Enough light lacrymas dimmed to a point to keep everything in a warm and soothing environment. Along side the floating stands holding the light lacrymas he can easily spot the stands holding the cages for the dozen lilac-billed sparrows Head Scribe Inko's raises. The birds natural soft tones and calm nature making them a perfect addition to the Royal Library. (Head Scribe Inko also makes a habit to remove them at certain times, letting them free inside her office so they can stretch their wings.) All in all there are times when the library is bare of sound save for the turning of pages, or when the sparrows songs lull everyone into a state of peace. Shouto prefers when the sparrows are out, tries to follow the rhythm of their ever changing songs (though he has long since learned not to try and whistle along with them, they're awfully competitive birds and don't appreciate an uninvited party joining in). He walks, followed by Captain Mizushima and knights Togata and Amajiki, to the center of the Royal Library. Finding Izuku may be hard work at times, but finding his mother is not. Lady Inko is reliable when needed.   He finds her sitting in front of the main desk, surrounded by children. She's reading something to them, he can't quite place the cover so it's not one of the usual books she picks out, using her magic to make some dolls move around as if playing the scene out. He stands outside the semi-circle the kids have made. No ones noticed him yet, too captivated by Lady Inko's dolls and the way she changes her voice depending on the character. They stand, attentive and silent, Shouto and the other three, until one of the children sense their presence and calls out, "It's the prince!" It's a bit of a cacophony after that, the rest of the children all turning at once and scrambling to their feet to do their proper bows and curtsies, asking him all sorts of questions and thanking him and the royal family. Thanking him for what, Shoutou can't make heads or tails about. It's all a little awkward, no matter how many times Shoutos gone through this in his two decades of life. Shouto spots Lady Inko in the background, putting the dolls and book on the main desk. Thankfully knight Togata is there to steal the spotlight, the famous and humble young knight rising the ranks at an incredibly rate. The children immediately run to him asking to be carried and to be read to in increasing shrills of joy. Togata winks conspiratorially at them all and makes to quiet them down first, this is a library after all, he tells them. Some of them gasp, as if barely noticing their own volume, chubby hands immediately flying to their faces to cover their mouths. Some of the others laugh. "Captain!" Togata stage-whispers. "Permission to take the little ones outside into the garden, sir!" Captain Mizushima nods, tells him to keep an eye on everyone, and the children break out from around knight Togata to run outside. "Amajiki," captain Mizushima starts, turning to the other as Togata walks away trying to get every child to file together in two lines. "Already got a head count, captain." "Very well, accompany knight Togata and make sure the children don't enter castle grounds." "Understood," Amajiki says, before bowing once and walking away. Lady Inko walks up to them then, giving a small courtesy to him before nodding at Captain Mizushima. "Head Scribe Inko," Shouto says, handing the book he'd brought with him over to her. She takes it from his hands with great care. "Your Grace," she says smiling up at him, round face over taken by a wide smile. "Would I presume correctly that you're looking for my Izuku?" Shouto nods. "Last I saw him, he was in the restricted section, as usual," she says to him, before turning to Captain Mizushima, "I'm afraid I'll have to keep you company until the prince returns, captain." The captain frowns but doesn't protest. The restricted section is open solely to members of house Midoriya, the heads of the other four noble great houses, and the royal family. Which makes it one of the few places Shouto can be in and just be. No father, no tutors, no expectations. Shouto bids them farewell and makes his way towards the other entrance to the Royal Library, Lady Inko's office being situated just left of it. The entrance to the restricted section is in the Head Scribe's office itself, a door that leads to the underground floors of the Royal Library. It is the only door into it in the entirety of the Royal Library. The only other way to reach it would be to dig through almost two floors of steel lacryma-reinforced concrete, and a good couple of hundred wards, most of which no one knows what they're exactly capable of anymore. The way there is peaceful enough, Shouto passes two master's from the Houma Conservatoire, who bow to him to but don't otherwise stop him, and house Shiozaki's heiress Ibara, who sits at a table with fellow lacryma alchemists-in-training Yousetsu and Juuzou of the minor houses Awase and Honekuni respectively. None of them notice him however, too engrossed on their notes, an old tome sitting in the middle of their table. He sees more people once he reaches the office, but they keep their distance besides smiling at him and bowing. They couldn't get near even if they wished it. There are wards and lightning lacrymas stationed all over the Head Scribe's office-three to four meters from the office walls (both in the inside of the library and on the outside of it, as the office is tucked into a corner). The wards to dissuaded people from getting near the office- keeping an invisible force, not quite a wall but giving off the feeling of trying to push past sand and dirt, between them. Someone who truly wanted to could possibly force their bodies to move until they reached the door, it'd be exhausting but feasible. The real danger would be the lightning lacrymas placed around the door. If anyone other than the allowed tried to open the door, the lacrymas would fry them alive. When he reaches for the door Shouto feels the slight twinge of the lightning, not strong enough to really hurt but noticeable enough to give him a small tingling sensation on his hand. The lacrymas purpose is to read his blood and see if he's on the allowed group of people who can enter or not.

Those of house Midoriya do not feel said spark, their bloodline more than accustomed to it.

He enters, closing the door slowly behind him. He takes a moment to breath in, Lady Inko's office always smelling of either the soothing fragrance of kikuka tea or the sweet smell of the rakoku incense Lady Inko favors. It mixes in well with the smell of books and parchment from outside the office, and helps keep away the small of old tomes from the restricted section. The room itself is not too big, just a tad smaller than his bathroom (and he can still remember with vividness the look on Izuku's face when he'd said so).  The walls are lined with record books from floor to ceiling, the only wall not like the rest being the one that carries the sole window of the room, right behind Lady Inko's personal desk. Light lacrymas hang from the ceiling as well as a couple of plants, their vines hanging down. He makes his way to the door tucked into a corner of the room, half hidden by the bookshelves stuck to the walls. Unlike the entrance to the Head Scribe's office the door leading to the restricted section is nothing special. It is brown and visibly weathered from age, a simple engraving of house Midoriya's crest, a swirl behind an open tome, and his family's crest side by side. The door creaks as he opens and closes it, entering the staircase leading down to the restricted section. The light lacrymas mounted on the walls are very dim, enough for Shouto to see where he's going but not be able to make out any details while his eyes adjust. At the end of the stairs he looks around. The rows upon rows of bookshelves, as tall as some houses,  are near invisible in the dark. The light lacrymas only lighting up when they sense someone to keep the light from damaging the oldest of tomes around. Still, in the darkness he spots one area, peeking out between bookshelves to his right, that seems to be lit up. He walks to it, the light lacrymas lighting up as he makes his way. Ten shelves later he turns and stops. He can't stop the smile that comes to him as he watches his friend sitting in between shelves surrounded by paper and ink, a tome carefully placed on a small easel as he mutters away loud enough for Shouto to notice but not clear enough for him to understand. He's got two notebooks on his lap and is scribbling away at one, only looking at the other when he checks the tome. "Midoriya," he calls out. Izuku jumps, pen making an unfortunate scratch on the notebook he's writing on, and Shouto does feel bad about that honestly, and the other falling to the floor all together. "Wha-" "I didn't mean to startle you," he tells him as he makes his way closer. Izuku turns his way and flounders for a moment. "Oh, your grace!" "Nobody's here, Midoriya," Shouto reminds him. Izuku grins at him, hand on his heaving chest. Shouto really gave him a fright. "Todoroki then. What brings you here?" Shouto raises a brow as he sits at the edge of Izuku's work space. "Tea, this afternoon, ring any bells?" Izuku legitimately looks confused, brow furrowed as his gaze seems to lose focus, looking past Shouto. "Oh yeah. Oh. Oh!" Shouto can't see it, not with how dim the light lacrymas are over their heads, but he's known Izuku for years now, enough to know he must be blushing up to his ears at the moment. "I'm so very deeply sorry, you don't even know how much, honestly, I- time just flew by before I even noticed, actually now that you mentioned it I don't even remember if I've eaten! Oh that's no excuse I can't believe I did it again, it's just I really wanted, no needed to cross reference this-" "Midoriya," Shouto interrupts him, cutting off the tirade. "It's alright. All's forgiven." Izuku takes a moment to get his breathing back in order before throwing a brief smile his way. "Thank you, really. I'll make it up to you," he says, closing the tome and picking up his fallen notebook, finding the page it was on before turning one page inside to mark it before closing it all together. Shouto doesn't miss the flower that was drawn on the page but it's gone too quickly for him to recognize it or not. It doesn't stop the nagging feeling in his gut that he wouldn't recognize it even if he had gotten a good look at it. Still he doesn't call Izuku out on his possible continuous and ill advised expeditions to the Forbidden Forest. Another time then. Shouto hums. "Well, you do owe your full opinion of volume six of All Might and the Seven so I can compare it to mine since I finished it last night," he points out with a small shrug. Lady Inko can come for them when it gets too late. Izuku laughs before turning to face him fully; notebooks, tome, pens and ink set aside. "You asked for it!" Shouto grins back at him.

Notes

#Vermilion Eagles- imagine a mix of bald eagles and vermilion flycatchers, but also 1.5x bigger than a bald eagle #Ogenos is just another way to write Oceanus, in this case indicating that the field is very fertile, full of green grass and flowers. #Korona Festival is a festival celebrating the sun, where Kacchan's ppl thank it with a show of fireworks, dancing, and a great feast #Vurucan is just Vulcan written in romaji #Because I hated the outfit given to Yaomomo in the Fantasy AU pls imagine her wearing a red and silver version of Fire Emblem Awakening's Grandmaster outfit #Chouten is the reading for 頂点 of Apex Predator (頂点捕食者), meaning those hawks are no joke #Gadian is just the phonetic reading of ガーディアン which is just Guardian, ie Guardian Forest #Akabane's name comes from 紅羽 which means Red Feather in jp, but something else in Kacchan's language #Seinenshin is the kingdom's name, it comes from Youth and Heart in jp (青年+心)

#for those of you who didn't read/watch Fairy Tail the lacrymas are crystals imbued with magic, in this fic's case the kind of lacryma depends on the magic imbued in it- so light lacrymas are essentially light bulbs, the lightning lacrymas are essentially tasers and etc etc, you get the idea! #Doryoku is the romanji for 努力 which translates to Great Effort or Endeavor. #when picking Ryouga's name I picked 竜河, Dragon and Discarded(as in the term used in Mahjong when discarding tiles) #*cough*Ryouga isn't an OC, any guesses on who he could be??*cough* #Kikuka is the romanji for 菊科 which translates to Asteraceae, which is what the family of flowers that has daisies, asters, chamomile, etc. is called #Rakoku is one of the types of incense classified in rikkoku gomi, "six countries, five scents", meaning it comes from Thailand and has as sweet smell

[katsukibakugo]

A Resident from a Strange World    

     Once A Visitor from a Strange World.

Otherwise known as, Yuuma is a member of Border and Kido’s ward: the AU.

ao3: [ch1] [ch2] [ch3] [ch4] [ch5]

chapter 5:

"Was it you?" Kitora asks as they walk towards one of the many entrances to HQ at the edge of the danger zone, Osamu looking like he's about to fall over from sheer stress walking a few steps right behind them. Yuuma wonders if he's tired from having to also deal with his and Kitora's passive aggressiveness against each other. In Yuuma's defense, she started it! There's nothing wrong with him accompanying Osamu (he's already got his arguments ready just in case, he's just saving them up for when he's in front of uncle Kido). "Nope! You can even check yourself if you don't believe me," he says, practically taunting. He did use Osamu's trigger so his own trigger's signature wouldn’t register as having been activated. He's not completely irresponsible. "I will," she tells him and he shrugs right back her. She won't find out the truth, seeing how it would probably worsen whatever consequences Osamu will face now and how it'll likely cause trouble for Yuuma as well. Then again, this is uncle Kido, one look at Osamu's trigger being activated and if he figures out Yuuma was with him the whole time, the man is bound to put two and two together. Of course he's banking on the other students repeating the story he gave them, if questioned- that he was in the bathroom the moment the siren started and hadn't managed to exit the building in time only to run into them and then moments later Osamu. It's quite a gamble, he knows. He's not as good as he'd like to be- at thinking on his feet that is. He really wishes he was, he thinks as yet another portal opens up above the bridge they're supposed to pass by.

Kitora's dripping from head to toe when he sees her again. "This time- this time it had to be you," she says with conviction, in a no nonsense tone. She reminds him of one of his old tutors in this moment (an older lady who always had a bad habit of trying to smack his hands with her ruler, always missing by mere millimeters). Yes. "If it had been me, I think it would've been pretty crystal clear, don’t you think?" he says instead because even he has a few tricks up his sleeve that even uncle Kido doesn’t know about. It's partially his own fault too, telling Yuuma never to show his full hand to anyone. It doesn't stop the sting of guilt within him. The chain he used to pull the bomber trion soldier down? That's one of those tricks. (He's thankful, in that moment, for the fact that he has made quite a bit of name for himself in regards to property damage- he's no Amou to be sure,  but he too destroys landscapes whenever on duty so people expect the damage when he uses his black trigger.) And the little enhancing option that he used on Osamu not too long ago? That's the newest of those tricks. Untraceable too, he found, the one time he played around with Yousuke-senpai's trion body, the other had been so confused as to why his steps had gone straight through the floor during training. No one ever figured out what happened that day, all shrugging it off as a possible malfunction which lead to an upgraded bailout system.   He managed to discover all of that thanks to a trion soldier he had from what little remained of his dad's things that he still hasn’t managed to unlock completely- the same one uncle Kido had once told him not to mess around with. Yuuma's a bit of a rebel, he'll admit, and once he's started he can't seem to stop. When he catches Kitora's eyes looking down at Osamu and the crowd that surrounds him he can't help but say, "He's genuinely good, Kitora." She doesn't believe him, he can tell by the look in her eyes, but he doesn't miss the surprise or the way her eyes lose that over critical glint for a more subdued considering look when Osamu sees them and maneuvers everyone's attention onto Kitora instead of himself. Yuuma smiles at Osamu, now at the back of the crowd, sighing as if exhausted just being around the crowd but there's a small smile on his face when a young kid from the crowd turns back to him and waves before turning back to look at Kitora. He's not too sure, but surely the feeling bubbling up in his chest is pride right??

[katsukibakugo]

A Resident from a Strange World    

     Once A Visitor from a Strange World.

Otherwise known as, Yuuma is a member of Border and Kido’s ward: the AU.

ao3: [ch1] [ch2] [ch3] [ch4]

chapter 4:

Arashiyama catches his eye first. Yuuma's talked to Arashiyama a full total of ten times, all very short conversations consisting of basic small talk and whatever orders uncle Kido wanted passed down to Director Shinoda. (Which, frankly speaking, Yuuma knows uncle Kido could have easily just emailed to Shinoda. He thinks it's uncle Kido's way of saying 'get out of the R&D offices and take a walk'. Yuuma appreciates the sentiment.) Even with such little interaction, Yuuma knows of the Arashiyama squad, as well as of the entirety of the A-rank squads and a majority of the B-rank squads, but the number of squads who know and interact with him fully well are really just four (Miwa-senpai's and the top three A-ranked squads).   He also knows that all the A-ranked and certain B-ranked squad captains are fully aware of uncle Kido's order on HQ's black trigger users to only use their black triggers when specifically instructed and only then. (This is how they know they'll be backup to the black triggers or not, and this is how Netsuki knows when to prepare to possibly deal with backlash from civilians if said black trigger users are seen, especially in Amou's case.) So, it's not like he can tell them exactly what happened, not without blowing his cover (not that he did anything wrong mind you- a shield is no weapon, and using Osamu's trigger doesn’t count as him actually using his black trigger). The teachers and his classmates take over Arashiyama's attention quickly enough, screaming about Arashiyama and his squad while singing praises for Osamu just as Osamu sets him down. Yuuma's not hurt by any means (he'll just have to wash his uniform really well or possibly buy himself a new pair of trousers) and it's all part of the show- that really nobody seems to be paying much attention to anymore. Kitora- one of the rookie geniuses he's heard and seen plenty of- wastes no time putting the situation under control and subsequently making Osamu's achievements (Yuuma's technically, but he's passing them off to Osamu with reason- Osamu just has to trust him on that) look like a mistake. He thinks this is why Netsuki had her added to the PR squad. For someone his age she warrants more attention than many adults just by raising her voice a bit. "Is it really his fault when you were the ones who were late?" Yuuma points out once he's risen to his feet. Arashiyama throws him a confused frown before schooling his face down to a serious but controlled gaze. Kitora sputters as his classmates roar over him. The way her eyes widen he guesses, unlike Arashiyama, Kitora didn't notice or recognize him until this moment. "What are you doing?" Kitora whispers to him as she gets closer while the commotion happens behind them as Arashiyama and the teachers try to quiet everyone down once more. He ignores her, it's not like he can tell her really, and turns to Osamu who stands stiffly beside them with eyes that shout Kitora's same question at him. He wonders if communication by sight is an actual thing once he sees Osamu's tense shoulders fall with a sigh. Speaking is not the only form of communication there is, Yuuma knows this well but he's still surprised that saying 'trust me' to someone with only his eyes would actually put them at ease. Osamu's an odd one really, so it's probably more that than anything. Yuuma continues once everyone quiets down again (It's better to say what he wants to be heard when it's quiet and the attention back on him- he learned that from Karasawa). "I mean, no offense to you guys, but if he hadn’t done what he did some of us could have ended up seriously hurt," he points out, not so subtly making sure to remind the crowd that Osamu 'saved' him along with a few more classmates. The crowd takes over for him once again. For a pretty solitary person Osamu has plenty of their classmates on his side, enough for him to seem a bit shocked at how intensely they support him (and believe him capable of such feats-which, to be fair, should be at least a little bit shocking). Kitora, true to her position as the ace of Border's prestigious Public Relations squad, looks flabbergast for a fraction of a second. Then it's back to business (and if he's gotta be honest, Yuuma's a bit impressed). "Even so, rules are there for a reason. Think of how many trainees and civilians alike could end up hurt because of those who lack the skills and experience decide to play hero. You all may consider his actions brave but they were reckless first and foremost. He will be punished, to make sure no one else pulls a stunt like this again and that's all there is to it." Protests start up again, though not as many as before Yuuma notices, before Arashiyama speaks up, a third member of the squad standing by him (Tokieda, if Yuuma remember correctly). "That's all well and true," Arashiyama says, to the crowd and Kitora alike, "but it's the higher ups who will decide in the end if he's to be punished or not. Especially considering that no one was hurt." "Understood," Kitora says, begrudgingly, before giving Yuuma and Osamu one last look and making her way back towards her captain and teammate. Arashiyama looks their way. "Still," he says, smiling- no beaming a genuine grin at Osamu, "my siblings go to this school so I'd like to personally thank you for keeping everyone safe." (Yuuma's fairly certain he just saw two heads move towards the back of the crowd as fast as they could. Huh.) Osamu isn't processing the gratitude very well though, his mouth opening and closing even after Arashiyama and his team have already moved towards a group of teachers to talk clean up, while another group of teachers start rounding up their classes. Yuuma pats his shoulder. "Close your mouth, Osamu."

"I'll go with you," Yuuma says at the end of the day, zipping up his bag (he's already checked twice that he has everything- he's not used to carrying so much around besides a single tablet, and he's come to find that notebooks and pencils are far too easy to lose track of). "Is that such a good idea? If you go, won't they figure out immediately that it wasn't me who beat those neighbors-" "Trion soldiers." "-you know what I mean. Won't you get in trouble?" Osamu's frown deepens, mind racing with the consequences of his actions affecting Yuuma as well. Give or take a few minutes and Yuuma's sure he'd see steam come out his ears. "It's a fifty-fifty chance," Yuuma shrugs, fully aware of the consequences if uncle Kido sees right through him, as he makes his way to the classroom's door. "Either we both get in trouble, or we don't." "No, I'm still likely to be kicked out of Border, you heard what Kitora said," Osamu points out, walking towards to Yuuma. His hand stops Yuuma's from opening the door. "You shouldn't have to get in trouble for helping me." "You didn't force me to help you," Yuuma points out, his hand still under the weight of Osamu's. "No one forced me to do anything," he says, slowly and clearly, hand tightening on the door handle. "You broke Border's rules, yes, but Osamu you didn't do it to play hero. You did it because it was the right thing to do, and that says a lot," he finishes with another shrug, sliding the door open when Osamu removes his hand. Osamu nods at his response, frown not diminishing one bit and shoulders tense and seconds away from crumbling in exhaustion and chagrin alike. And the day is not over yet, Yuuma thinks as he watches him. They walk in silence all the way until they exit the building when all sense of momentary peace shatters away at the sound of camera flashes and not-quite whispers around the school entrance. Beside him Osamu lets out a short, "Huh," as Kitora makes eye contact with them both. Yuuma looks up, the sky a cloudy orange. "C'mon," he grumbles at the first big cloud he sees.

[katsukibakugo]

A Resident from a Strange World    

     Once A Visitor from a Strange World.

Otherwise known as, Yuuma is a member of Border and Kido’s ward: the AU.

ao3: [ch1] [ch2] [ch3]

chapter 3:

Life goes on as usual after that- if Yuuma can easily add, keeping secrets from uncle Kido, which would result in trademark dissapointed-sighs, to his everyday routine- and in hindsight? Yes. Life does go on as usual. The only difference is that this new and particular secret can think, move, and speak for himself. Still, life goes on. Yuuma goes to school, learns from the teachers, his classmates, and Osamu. He practices his skills at HQ. Sometimes with Miwa-senpai and Yoneya-senpai, when he can't escape the latter fast enough, but mostly on his own. He spends hours with R&D. Spends some more on his room, away from everyone. Still has breakfast with uncle Kido in the morning and still has tea with him at night, before he goes back to his room until morning. He's still sent on small missions for defense duty along with others by uncle Kido as well. "Making the rounds again?" Yuuma asks as Jin walks closer to him, shakes his head when the other offers him fried rice crackers from the bag he's usually seen with. Jin is one of Border's best, black trigger or not. He also has quite the habit of always saying half-truths around Yuuma; Has mastered the art for it anyway. Yuuma's never too sure if Jin has ever really tried to outright lie to him and his gut tells him that he hasn't. Still, Jin is the embodiment of half-truths and string pulling. He's more than easy enough to get along with though. If anything, Yuuma would call him entertaining. Which is still something that makes uncle Kido and Miwa-senpai grind their teeth (Miwa-senpai more so than uncle Kido; uncle Kido hides his teeth grinding very, very well). "Are you having fun, Yuuma?" Jin asks out of the blue. Yuuma looks over his shoulder at the craters and just plain messes he's just finished creating. Or adding further messes to, he thinks, considering most of the area is abandoned. There's not much use to the houses with half the roof missing. "If you mean those, I'm sorry to say I don’t do it for fun or on purpose. Miwa-senpai and uncle Kido always chew me out over property damage," he says with a shrug. He doesn't do holding back against an enemy either though, not when he can take them. The faster they're defeated the better after all. And if he can't take them on? Retreat and regroup, uncle Kido's voice would order in his head (probably out loud too). Jin laughs before shaking his head. "No, I didn't mean it because of that. I meant in general, like are you enjoying living, waking up in the morning, all that," he says with a simple wave of his hand as if he's asking Yuuma what he thinks about the weather. Yuuma raises a brow. "One, I don't sleep, I take power naps. And honestly- I guess so? The answer isn't no." Is he happy? He's not not happy. He's spent his days since his father's death in routines. Is that living?? He's 15 what does he know. Even being brought over to Earth by uncle Kido just started another routine that hasn't changed- Except, he thinks, except it has changed. Just slightly. He thinks about Osamu and grins a little. "It's not boring," he tells Jin with a small shrug. Jin smiles at him like he knows exactly what he's thinking- and that's the thing with Jin, he probably knew before Yuuma did and didn't bother to warn him. Yuuma tuts, shakes his head in mock exasperation. "Why bother asking questions when you already know the answer to them?" Jin replies with a laugh and takes another bite of his precious bonchiage.

"And it's still bothering me a little," Osamu tells him, after he's finished lecturing Yuuma about not letting their classmates know about him being in Border (never mind that Osamu keeping that a secret is strange to Yuuma, who has actual orders to keep his own Border status a secret). "You don’t gain anything by not reporting me to the higher ups." Yuuma's willing to bet uncle Kido's entire university fund for him that Osamu isn't the type to give up no matter how much common sense tells him otherwise, always listening to the little nagging voice in his head. Now if only he listened to an obviously ignored sense of self preservation Osamu would be better of.   Yuuma shrugs. "It's not like I think you were doing anything wrong, but I do think it was pretty stupid of you considering how weak you are." Osamu sighs but he's not insulted. That's a thing about Osamu he's noticed. The guy is fully aware of his weaknesses and doesn’t take insult to them being pointed out. Rather, he'll sigh as if to say 'tell me something I don’t know' but without any of the chagrin Yuuma would have thought common. It doesn’t sit well with Yuuma, not when his gut tells him there’s something special about Osamu- it's what he thought the first time he saw him (really saw him anyway, when he finally bothered to put a name to a face and a personality too). There's something about Osamu hidden beneath layers of- something. Yuuma hasn't figured it out yet. "Look, so long as we both keep each other's secrets, everything is good. No reason to make a big deal out of nothing," Yuuma points out, stretching his arms over his head. He also doesn’t need the school knowing about his status as a border agent either, and considering their Border fanboy of a friend and classmate has all active agents memorized, Yumma'd have no way of proving he's a real member anyway.

Uncle Kido and Netsuki keep him and Amou hidden from all public records they can.

"And so long as you don’t pull a stunt like that again, even better-" -Then there's that same annoying sound (he heard it the first time he crossed over with uncle Kido, and has heard it at least once a week since then) followed by sirens and Ms. Sawamura's voice. He scowls at the portals mocking him outside the windows of the empty classroom they're in. "Oh, c'mon."

The first thing he notices when he and Osamu step out of the building is that the rest of the school is being evacuated as quickly as possible by the teachers and, as he registers the teachers words, that not everyone has left the building- before he registers Osamu's steps have stopped. "You won't be able to beat them," Yuuma says, quickly running back up to Osamu. "Even if there were two dozens of you to send out, most would fail and die." You and I don't have the option of bailout, but I wouldn't even need it, he thinks.

Yuuma thinks about uncle Kido's words too- the reason why he's even in this campus to begin with. Normality isn't an option for us any longer, uncle Kido had said. But haven't I earned the right to have a try at it anyway?  and uncle Kido's face had faltered for a second before he sighed and conceded- but there will be requirements I expect you to agree to, he'd said and there was nothing Yuuma could have done to stop himself from hugging the man in that moment.

He thinks about his father, someone in his mind created from the words of others. A man who'd always done as he saw best. "So I'm supposed to do nothing?" Osamu argues, turning to face him. "If you can't help them then I will, that's all there is to it." "Even if you won't win?" Even if you die? (Osamu is someone who never ever gives up, Yuuma has come to learn; Yuuma worries abut this.) "If it gives anyone even five seconds of cover enough to escape, then it's worth trying," is the last thing Osamu says before bolting back into the building. The teachers are busy rounding up who they can. They don't notice Osamu. Yuuma watches him go. The insistent vibrating inside his back pocket he's managed to ignore so far suddenly feels unbearable. Stupid specialized phone and it's stupid mandatory functions. He pulls his phone out and flips it open, feels the vibrating finally stop, reads the message sent three minutes ago once and bites his tongue.      Arashiyama and his squad are on their way- do not engage. Help with evacuation. Be subtle. A man who'd always done as he saw best He pockets his phone and runs after Osamu.

fic notes: #yuuma is in love and he doesnt know it; jin does and finds it hilarious and sweet #mostly hilarious, he cant wait to see shuuji's reaction live when he figures it out #yuuma just wants osamu to listen to his poor neglected sense of self preservation #so do i #so does everyone who knows him #stop giving us heart attacks osamu its rude

[katsukibakugo]

Heart Strings

Some people live; Others die in their place; Others stay dead.

Otherwise known as Elia and Lyanna live: the AU.

ch1.[ao3]

ch2.[ao3]

ch2.

Doran greets them at the entrance of Sunspear, sighing out in relief as he sees Elia. She's never seen her brother look so old and it terrifies her to think of what it would have done to him had anything happened to her and her children. The war is over but the fight is far from finished, she thinks, holds her son closer to her chest. Targaryen blood lives on- but for how much longer??

"Robert, please!" Lyanna shouts at him tiredly, from her bed, her babe held on one arm. Her son does not so much as whimper from the noise. He sleeps, peaceful and unaware. Oh, the innocence of it all. "You want me to leave them alive?! The dragonspawn?!" The other bellows, face red and eyes wide with shock; they're not wild, they're not closed off to her not yet- "You- and you want to keep the boy he planted in you as well!? He- that bastard raped you Lya," Robert says softly in the end, takes his seat back by her bedside, shoulders dropping. Robert Baratheon was made for war, she used to think, but no, Robert Baratheon was made for the battlefield. This, too, is war and she will come out victorious. (There's not other choice there's not other choice-) "And no child should pay for the sins of his father," Lyanna tells him as she reaches for his hand slowly. He's wrong, Rhaegar did not take her, but he did win over her and she was too desperate for freedom and love to notice he was leading her into another cage. She cannot tell Robert, can't let him rage on towards Rhaegar's children- no, towards her child and Elia Martell's children. They have no father in their mind, Lyanna knows Elia would agree. That man is dead, that man is dead and has no one but himself to blame. Robert looks at her, tired and angry, but never at her, this fool who thinks he loves her. You can't love what you don't know Robert, she thinks. But you can learn to, you can try, she tells herself as she looks at him. "You want to destroy every trace of Rhaegar Targaryen," she states. It's not a question, Robert has made it well known. He looks at her as he caresses her hand. Who knew he could be gentle, this angry brute. But for how long, her mind whispers. "Yes, he's dead but it's not enough. Not when-" he glares at the babe on her other arm before turning away. "Forgive me, I know it's your child but it's also his- his and I cannot-" "He doesn't have to be," she tells him, watches the way his head snaps back towards her in confusion. "It will always be his," Robert all but hisses out, angry and confused but full of conviction. "In blood, he will always be, Robert," she tells him bringing his hand toward her lips. She has to calm him down enough to win over him, she must. "But what better way to spit in Rhaegar Targaryen's grave some more than to make his own flesh and blood hate him, deny him even the title of father and have them give it to the man who killed him?" she asks him. It's all ludicrous in her ears but it will work. It has to work. (They don't have another choice.) "You say them," Robert repeats at her uneasily. "Yes, them. Little Rhaenys and Aegon," Lyanna tells him bluntly. She can almost feel the way he wants to jerk his hand away from her grasp but won't. He's blinded by fool's love, he will not reject her not when he finally has her so close. "Lyanna-" "I don't want this child to be king, not when that's what Rhaegar wanted," she lies. The dragon must have three heads, she remembers Rhaegar saying. Robert furrows his brow at her in confusion. "He was going to set aside his own children and wife to put me in the throne Robert. Those were his wishes. I- I wish I could have twisted a knife in his heart myself," she tells him, and it should shock her how easy it is to lie in this way but she has not the time for that now. Maybe it's not much of a lie, not anymore. "He's dead and I cannot, not physically, not like you slammed your hammer into him, but I want him to hurt. To burn in whatever hell he is, and I want this Robert, I want to do this by destroying his dreams further," she finishes, clutching Robert's hand. The babe in her arm squirms but for a moment. (This is what must be done, she thinks- pleads with her child, her innocent boy. This is what will keep you alive.) "Lyanna," Robert starts, closes his eyes with a sigh. War ages all, she notes, turns boys to men, dampens the fire in their eyes. Dents their souls until they resemble brittle armour. She sinks her nails and teeth and soul onto the depressions, opens them into cavities and dives in. "Please, please Robert, take us both," she tells him tries to put as much pleading in her eyes as she possibly can, "make Elia and I your queens." "Two queens?" Robert barks a laugh disbelieving, tone full of condescending echos. He thinks the suggestion is absurd- likely he thinks her a fool. Let him think as he likes, she'll win this war one way or another. "The Targaryens did so for generations, who's to say you cannot? Who would deny you now?" she asks him. "Make Aegon your heir, give my boy the Crownlands, give your brother or the children you and I may have the Stormlands-" "And the girl?" he asks her bluntly, shocking her. "Rhaenys," she starts uneasily, "the only thing you can do is marry her off to a good man, the best you can find. Dorne would accept nothing less," she finishes, can feel the bile in her throat. I am throwing a child to the same fate I tried to escape from, just for a chance to let her live, she thinks and is sickened with herself. (They don't have a choice- they do not. There's nowhere to run.) "Aye," Robert says calmly as he strokes lines over her hand, soft and surprisingly soothing. He looks at her with loving eyes and smiles. "Smart, beautiful, and merciless." She does her best to smile brightly at him as he brings his other hand to her cheek. She tries but knows the effort is in vain and hopes Robert faults fatigue. (She's trying because there's no other choice and she's trying- she has to try harder.) "Will she even agree, sickly Elia Martell?" he asks her. She's strong, Lyanna wants to correct, so much stronger. "For the chance of her children being allowed to live? For them not to lose what they were going to have before their fool of a father tried to take it from them? For a chance to humiliate Rhaegar Targaryen as he did her? Yes," Lyanna says confidently. "Elia will agree." Robert takes his hand from her cheek and places it atop the head of her boy, and it takes Lyanna's entire being not to flinch in fear. "He looks like you," he says, moving the small hairs on her boy's head. She looks at him further before responding. You will never hurt him, I will never allow it, she thinks at him. "And Rhaenys and Aegon look like their mother save for their eyes." He looks back at he and smirks. "Is that right?" "Yes." He removes his hand and lifts himself off his seat with a huff. "It seems ravens must be sent now-" he says and Lyanna jumps- he hasn't given her his word yet. "Robert-" "Do you want to write to her yourself?" he asks her. Lyanna stares at him before quickly responding, "Yes, yes. Please, I beg you, let me." He looks down at her, eyes softer than she's ever known them to be. "I'll have someone bring you parchment and ink then," he tells her. "You'll let sickly Elia Martell that she and her whelp will be allowed to live, I will swear that upon the love I hold for you, the same I went to war for and found victory on. The rest of your plan- put that on hold. I will not agree to anything more till I speak with Jon and the rest of my men." Lyanna sighs. "For now rest, there- there's something that needs to be taken care of," he tells her before turning to leave. As he open the door she calls out to him. "Thank you," she tells him. (There's nowhere else to run to, nowhere at all; Nowhere except forward she'll walk with her head held high. She'll march the least wanted path. There is no other choice.) "Do not thank me, Lya," he says, shakes his head at her, like one would to a child, "it's the least I could do after what that bastard did to you."

[katsukibakugo]

Season of Terminal Grey

if we don't forgive our enemies, we'll crawl the walls like centipedes

~~~

Alternatively: the fic where Finn, living embodiment of sunshine, tries to understand what the hell is Kylo Ren's deal all while trying to learn about his own Force sensitivity (which equates to a canteen in the middle of an ocean); simultaneously trying his best to help anchor Rey in the Light when the object of her (pretty obvious, Darkside knocking at the door, murder-calling) hate is only a few meters away. Fun times.

Alternative of the alternative: Finn believes in second chances more than anyone else and doesn't understand why he can't find it in himself to make an exception in this case. Because he should totally make an exception in this case. Totally.

[ao3]

ch1.

Kylo Ren thought there would not be a bigger humiliation than his capture at the hands of the Resistance and their precious Jedi. He was sure nothing would top it (just as he was once sure nothing would top the scar running across his face, the loss of his favorite customized ship, or the loss of his leg at the hands of Skywalker). He was sure of it until he stepped through the door. --- At first, Kylo's sure he's hallucinating from malnutrition (they're giving him three meals a day but he doesn't eat nor drink a drop and they don't bother trying to force him to either; he wonders if they're shocked that he's lasted this long with no sustenance). He's so sure of it because he wouldn't dare- that traitor wouldn't have the guts to face him, least of all alone (his mo- the general brings eight guards, the scavenger is followed by Skywalker, even the soldiers sent to give or retrieve his food tray come in sets of four-). Yet he stands alone. So Kylo watches the hallucination in silence. Nothing new there. His training under Supreme Leader Snoke wasn't just torturous, it was torture itself- he's no stranger to starvation or dehydration, let alone hallucinations. The problem is that the hallucination is just a silent. (That's new- that's new and it bothers him- where are the screams of those who've fallen to his lightsaber, where is the man with the sandy hair and the scar across his eye and his strange anecdotes, where is the woman who is usually crying as she asks him to wake up with her ornate hairstyles coming undone, where is his master to push him forward with promises of glory and legacy, where is his master to push him forward by throwing his failures at his face and daring him to stop being weak and pathetic- where is his father-) He's starving, dehydrated, and hallucinating (and tired, a tiny young voice he's ignored for almost two decades whispers, so very, bone deep, tired) so he reacts as well as can be expected. He snorts and throws his head back, guffaws just as the pain from hitting the wall behind him sets in. It hurts (He doesn't remember the last time he laughed this hard- has he ever laughed like this? In his 35 years of life? He doesn't know, he- it doesn't matter). It feels like he's suffocating for a moment before he manages to regain his breath and looks at the hallucination once more. It stares back at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. "What's next?" he asks the hallucination. He rarely indulges his hallucinations, he doesn't know why he's bothering to now. "Will the torturer of the Resistance be an Ewok?" he snorts again and shakes his head. His hallucinations have never been like this, never been quite so ridiculous ever, but anything is fair game now apparently. (He wonders if the resistance drugged him through the air bents of his cell but no, that would be against their righteous sensibilities.) "I don't think we have any Ewoks on base but I can't say I know everyone, so who knows, but I can tell you for a fact that there's no torturer around here." Kylo snaps his gaze back at it, the hallucination. One breath. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. (The voices in his hallucinations have always been distorted, always, always, always have been- it's as if his ears have been stuffed, and in turn they become muffled, not so much that he cannot understand them but enough to let him know he's hallucinating, enough to clue him in about what's real and what's not. Never so clear.) In. Out. In. Out. (Never so clear. Never so-) Real. Real because it's not a hallucination. Real because there he stands, quiet and alone, biting his lip, one hand playing with a loose thread on his sleeve shirt and the other in his pocket (in that same jacket Kylo knows for a fact he once cut him in- a wound across his back), eyes no longer wide, no longer shocked just- FN-2187 stands alone in front of his cell. Quiet. Real.

fic notes: #[chants] grey jedi finn grey jedi finn say it with me now #force ghost padme bc I can and there's nothing anyone can do about it

[katsukibakugo]

(and the next and the next and the next ...)

Finding them was worse; You could still lose them

[ao3]

They've both had many names across the ages-before and after their first true meeting. When phantom emptiness was finally filled and given a name and a face (those would change with time but the feeling never strayed, never wavered, never changed).

They met as Shut Hell and Yurul.

Have known each other as Sudou and Suzuki.

As Wisteria and Ling.

As Rumen and Zvonimr.

As Sohrab and Aoide.

Yet never met as Altan and Tarana.

As Sienna and Chantal.

As Rohit and Song for Me.

They have lived and loved unconditionally.

They have died beside the other.

They have lived and loved slowly, slowly but surely.

They have died oceans apart.

They have died unaware, never despaired for the not known.

They died together yet apart, ripped from each other.

They know what that pain is like, but never remember it once they close their eyes for that last moment, before the new start.

They don't remember the next time, they don't know.

Not like Shut Hell knows Sudou.

Not like Suzuki knows Yurul.

They don't know the rest, the countless names and faces

Yet they know enough.

A gut feeling- soul deep truth.

They'll keep the other safe.

In this life and the next.

(and the next and the next and the next ...)

[katsukibakugo]

100 Women

prompt: 013. Laughter

[ao3]

Her quirk has a weight limit so to speak; it's a pretty well known thing by the end of the year. A minor set back, Ochako knows. She'll grow out of it. She'll train herself out of it (or at least try to expand the limit further).

---

She's five when she's sure she'll use her quirk to aid her dad and their family.

She's fifteen when she thinks of how useful she could be if she could lift buildings after disasters (natural or villain-induced).

(She's ten when she wonders if she'll ever be able to lift up a tiny island but she's ten and that's just silly- she still has trouble levitating her dad's truck as is!)

---

It's a minor set back that she'll work on, to be the best hero she can possibly be, and she'll work on it slowly but resolutely. She'll train step by step and if her training begins with trying to keep her entire class afloat at a certain height well that's just the way it'll be. She's not complaining (and if Bakugou rises higher than the others she'll just laugh and point out that he's the one propelling himself higher with his quirk, she's definitely not trying to send him to the moon, no sir, Sensei).

[katsukibakugo]

detonation detonation

I've said it kindly once, now kindly fuck off.

[ao3]

"I hate," young Bakugou starts, teeth clenched together and gaze piercing him on the spot with its ferocity. All Might knows what anger, what true rage, directed at him looks like (he's seen it on villains; he's seen it on the faces of people whose family or loved ones he failed to save). This seems pretty close if he's honest with himself. Young Bakugou is a volcano, lava bubbling in warning, a reminder of the true danger- the magma deep inside, ready to burst and take everything down with it. He wonders how someone so young, so full of potential, can be so angry (All Might wonders why his shoulders look so heavy for someone not even through with high school). "More than anything," young Bakugou continues, "I hate repeating myself so I'll say it just once more for your thick skull," he spits out, shoving his fists into his hoodie's pockets. "I don't give a damn about you. You're a goal I'm going to reach, to overcome, to grind into dust. I'm going to make you look like a chump in the history books. I'll learn from you in the classroom and nowhere else, so quit wasting my time. I'm going to be the top hero of top heroes and I'll do it without your meddling." All Might stands, quiet and conflicted, watching young Bakugou stomp away. Kid has issues (and nothing is worse than knowing it and being utterly unable to help at all).

fic notes: #kacchan chill #kacchan ur like five #sit your ass down and have a sneakers u big angry baby #when is class-A gonna put their allowances together to get kacchan a stress ball #customized stress ball that looks like an explosion with an angry face smack in the middle #signed by kirishima and sparky(whatever his name is i dont remember it kacchan probs doesnt either)

[katsukibakugo]

a price to pay, for greatness sake

She was born rich and hot and with the world at her fingertips. She was destined for Greatness. Capital G.

[ao3]

Chanel is a goal-oriented person and pity any idiot who would dare get in her way to be honest. She hasn't gotten to where she is in life by being a goody goody selfless pretty face more interested in the good of all than in her own self interest. Who do you think she is? Grace? As if. She was born rich and hot and with the world at her fingertips. She was destined for Greatness. Capital G. Still. The road towards her rich and popular hot husband is hard and if she were anyone other than Chanel Oberlin, any other lesser creature like Grace or Zayday Williams, well. She would have given up a long time ago. Or at least switched to a less-richer-but-still-pretty-rich-and-hot target.

At least. But she's Chanel Oberlin and she deserves the top dog, the best of the best, the richest and hottest of bachelors available to her. Not to mention 'living' bachelors because the lesser-but-still-better-than-97-percent-of-the-country's-men in the university are dying. If the price for the best, for what she rightfully deserves from the universe, is her precious free time wasted on trying to sext her boyfriend about the dead, well. She's Chanel Oberlin. She will prevail. (and hope that indulging Chad about skeletons won't give him any ideas about taking her to a cemetery. Again. She's Channel Oberlin ok, she does have some standards to uphold!)

[katsukibakugo]

Young Justice: United

One wakes with a gasp.

One wakes with a groan.

One wakes with a scream.

One comes apart in one place and comes together in another.

[ao3]

Prologue:

Space - Rao Star System. 16:27  UTC Dec  28, 1989 The ship whirls to life as it powers on and she can't help but worry about that. She should already be on route not stuck on- on some asteroid belt? There's rock and space dust everywhere from the single clear opening the escape ship has- Did her ship get thrown off? That's not good that's not good she can't afford to be slowed down. He needs her. She has to protect him. She promised everyone. She swore. The ship's AI rattles off commands, directions, reconfigurations, recalculations- Time: Unknown. It says over and over. She has to figure out what’s going on, has to override everything if it comes to it- middle of an asteroid belt or not. She has to figure it out before- Cryostasis Commencing. No. No. No. Her mouth opens but no sound comes out. No no no what’s going on- Not yet, not until she figures out where she is where he is- She fights for consciousness as hard as she can. "K-Kal-"

She loses herself to sleep.

???     ??:??  ??? ???  ???, ???? Everything is pain. His back is killing him. He probably has a concussion if his head wasn't blown right off. Considering how much it hurts, it probably wasn't. He knows the damage to his torso is worse, he can smell his own charred skin- his chest, stomach, and even his chin- Wasn't it supposed to be fleeting? Boom, bright blinding painful light, shrapnel sure that too, and then he's gone? No? Damn. Dying- almost dying either one who cares at this point- fucking hurts, he wants his money back. And if he didn't die- hasn't died whatever- then he hopes help gets to him soon because this fucking sucks- "Help!! Someone-" Oh good, someone's here already. Just in time for a nap.

Gotham Cemetery 06:46  EDT April 28, 2013 The air is knives on his lungs with every gasp, there are stones all around, letters on them but he can't make put the words he doesn't know doesn't know doesn't know- Breathing is not worth it, not with this pain but he has to- Has to what exactly? He doesn't know- who is he where is he where- Where is B- Who- who is he looking for?? He is looking for someone, he feels it but who, who is he looking for- Help they could help, he knows- they whoever they are, they could help with the pain, the fear, he knows it. Knows it in each aching bones and each broken and bleeding finger. But who- who is he looking for he has to find them he has to but where- There's nowhere to start but forward, towards the lights. He'll search and find- Find- Find- Who- What- Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Live.

??? ??:??  ??? ??? ???, ???? His legs won't listen to him- he wants to stop running. He never thought he'd ever even think that in his life but he wants to stop running so so bad. It feels like he's been running for years. Decades. Centuries. Maybe even longer.  His lungs are shrieking in pain, his head feels like it’s being scrambled, his abs feel like their being ripped apart muscle by muscle- And his legs- they just won't stop won't stop won't stop. He needs them to stop. He needs to stop. Now.

[katsukibakugo]

100 Women

[ao3]

Prompt: 001. Beginnings.

Her father was and is the primary reason for the life she's lived for so long. Michelle knows he's a key figure for the woman she is today, regardless of his actual absence in her life. From the grieving child to the angry teenager to the no-bullshit, stubborn adult. His memory turned resentment into bullheaded determination to get answers, the truth, because there was a truth to find. It was the last and most important thing she could do for her father. Her family. Her mother. Her mother who took one look at her and knew nothing would ever stop Michelle. A woman who had already lost someone so important to her. Who watched her daughter set course on a path that would leave her cold. Lonely. Yet stood by her anyway. Michelle knows her father is key figure in what she became, but it's her mother who truly helped nurture the person she is today.

[katsukibakugo]

Heart Strings

Some people live; Others die in their place; Others stay dead.

Otherwise known as Elia and Lyanna live: the AU.

[ao3]

ch1.

Elia carries her son closely to her chest throughout the bumpy carriage ride, laughing softly as she watches Oberyn and her daughter, riding a separate horse, through the small window on her side. She sighs, remembering the earlier morning two days past now, when she was suddenly awakened by queen Rhaella shaking her and telling her to hurry, to pack lightly and to hurry. Hurry dear child, you must hurry. The weight of the words and the tone leave a bad taste in Elia's mouth. Something is wrong, she can feel it.

--- She says nothing when Oberyn announces the small detour before they complete their trip towards home. They'll all be truly safe soon enough. She clenches her fists and grinds her teeth when they arrive, hands her boy to the nursemaid Oberyn brought all while Rhaenys sleeps inside the carriage. The Tower of Joy. She thinks of Rhaegar and wants to damn him to all seven hells and back.

--- "Rhaegar is too much of a soft-hearted fool to tell you, but know this, you will be princess consort, I will be queen. Your son born of ice and fire will be sacrificed to the wall and the white walkers for the same kingdom that my son will rule," Elia spits, throat sore and tired. She doesn't mean it. She doesn't mean a word, not when she knows this child- this girl is not at fault. Rhaegar is but Rhaegar is not here to hear her. May the gods forgive her but she has to say it, has to let it out even if it's lie after lie in her tongue. It's not this child's fault but Elia's heart has to have some freedom, the slightest comfort, before it bursts. It's petty, she knows, but she wants to hurt Rhaegar in whatever way she can. If not for herself than for her children who deserve better. The girl looks at her with blank gray eyes. "They all said you were weak, gentle but weak," she says. "They were wrong. You are strong princess Elia." Elia glares at her, tries to picture Rhaegar in her place instead, tries to picture him sickly pale and bone thin and tired, all well-deserved, and all she can feel is pity. Elia knows she doesn't deserve this, and even after everything Elia finds it hard to wish this much suffering on anyone, even Rhaegar himself. "Lyanna Stark," she starts. "We're strong because he made us weak and we suffered for it," Elia tells her. Rhaegar, Rhaegar it's all his fault. Rhaegar who spoke sweetly to her, who loved their daughter and son, who might have only loved them for a song and a prophecy. Rhaegar who promised a caged wolf land to roam free.  "We're strong now because he made us feel safe, and in those moments he destroyed us both. He turned us weak." Lyanna Stark looks at her for a moment before she laughs, a small and pathetic sound. This is the girl he took, Elia thinks sadly. The fierce she-wolf she heard tales about is nothing but a dying winter rose now. "Aye, that he did," She admits, and Elia sees the girl, the girl who wanted freedom and was locked in a tower instead. "If we meet again, Lyanna Stark," Elia says crouching closer to the girl, speaking so that only she can hear. "Let us show them all our newfound strength." Light returns to the girl's gray eyes, if only by a small amount, before she grabs one of Elia's hands, where they grasp the steel of her cage, and weakly grips it. "Yes." She's still in there, Elia notices, the she-wolf. There's fight in her heart where Rhaegar tried to tame her with song and pretty words and empty promises. Elia is glad for it. "Elia," Oberyn says from the door. "Let us go now, sister." She goes.

--- Lyanna stays locked in a tower, but there's a fire in her belly, newly alight. She'll show her strength. They'll show them all.

[katsukibakugo]

Foresight

"Goodbye." "I'm sorry? We haven't even met." "Not yet. Not anymore."

[ao3]

He sees too much. (Someone has to.)

He sees more than he could ever have imagined. (Knows there’s still so much more to see.)

Sometimes, sometimes he likes what he sees. (Most of the time, most of the time he’d rather not see at all.)

He forgets- forgot, at times, after days where everyone seemed to be on good paths, that as much as he can manipulate events for the better in the end he’s only a witness; only capable of controlling himself. (He was a child then, so sure that his first real attempt to protect– to save his most important person would succeed, and he continues to wonder to the hour how could he have forgotten that his mother lived by the second; Mogami would be his second hard reminder as they waited for the others, waited for medical attention, when just seconds after he’d foresaw the man on an operating table, heart beat slowing down but loud and clear, Mogami started to crumble apart in front of him.)

So he’s not surprised, not really, as he watches once-happy visions of his future – their future – shatter into pieces, leaving nothing but anger and mistrust behind after only two words. (She’s gone, Mogami once told him; She’s gone, he says to despairing eyes who beg him for help.)

He sees more than he would like to. (No one knows loss like he does. No one else sees what they want the most and loses it like he does.)

He sees too much.

[katsukibakugo]

Retribution

In your anger, bring the nations down.

[ao3]

A hundred of them left the planet- left for the sake of billions, left for the sake of friends, of family, for a chance to make a difference, to find meaning in their lives. They died and suffered- betrayed and were betrayed.

A dying planet in jeopardy.

A thriving planet turned warzone.

Lives at stake and those in charge- the bastards up top who think their money will solve everything for them can’t grasp the magnitude of the problem. They don’t care for the people filling up hospitals, and those dying on the streets unable to afford any treatment whatsoever. They think they can afford to turn their heads away, from the people and from the skies.

They, who haven’t seen their friends be ripped apart. They, who have never felt an iota of suffering. They, who’ve never had to face the enemy and see themselves reflected back as nothing more than scum.

They, who expect obedience regardless.

Fools who won’t see the revolution coming, not when they expect them to return utterly broken.

Not when they remain unaware that they are The Survivors- now, first and foremost.

A hundred left the planet. Only a handful will return to it.

They’ll return with the weight of the dead on their shoulders, their hopes and dreams and aspirations.

Survivors who won’t let their comrade’s deaths be in vain.

[katsukibakugo]

Of Expectations and Reality

I'm famous and our dates are almost always ruined by rude fans, how do you still want to be with me? AU

[ao3]

“That,” Shinsou starts, lazily waving goodbye to the teens walking away from their table with their newly autographed napkins clutched tight to their chests, “is probably the nicest fan encounter I’ve had in months.”

Midoriya groans, face in his hands. He’s doing the full body blush again and Shinsou can’t help but snort.

“They thought I was your bodyguard,” Shinsou reminds him, watches as Midoriya lets his head, hands still covering his face and all, fall onto the table with a loud thud. “As if you of all people need one. Still, it’s miles better than stalker or chauffer. And, well, anything beats Daily Hero Entertainment calling me your butler after that one time I answered your door.” Midoriya whimpers.

Shinsou takes pity on him, reaches over and pats his shoulder.

“There, there,” he deadpans.

“We should’ve just ordered take out,” Midoriya mumbles through his hands, tone equally annoyed and defeated.

Shinsou snorts again.

“I don’t remember agreeing to date a cheapskate.”

Midoriya looks up at that. “I’m pretty sure I don’t remember you agreeing to date me only for everyone and their grandparents to think you’re my employee.”

Shinsou shakes his head, reaches for a breadstick and throws it at Midoriya’s forehead. Midoriya easily catches it and takes a bite. “Actually, it was in the fine print,” Shinsou tells him.

Midoriya raises a brow, amused. “Really now.”

Shinsou nods. “‘Be prepared for nonsensical speculation when dating an uber celebrity when you yourself are only but a humble T.A.’”

Midoriya laughs at that, loud and bright and- yeah. This is who he agreed to date.

Shinsou smiles at him. “Now come on, let’s eat. Food’s probably cold as it is.”