Chapter Text
Of all the bedtime stories, the tales little Izuku loves best are those of adventurous knights. The places they visit, the people they meet, the battles they fight—Izuku can imagine no grander purpose than to live on behalf of a kingdom in need. A life of glory and admiration befitting of a hero. A life of adventure.
The forest of the valley, verdant and mysterious, teems with waiting adventure. Izuku dutifully follows along behind another young boy who leads the way waving around the dagger he swiped from home that morning. The dagger slices through vines and branches, drawing back the curtains of greenery so that they fall among the reds and oranges and purples of the wildflowers lining the forest path.
“Over there!” Izuku's rascal friend proclaims, pointing the tip of his blade at a brushy crag coming into view a ways off the trail. Izuku barely has time to admire the discovery before his companion dashes off.
“Kacchan!” Izuku yelps, stumbling to chase after him.
Kacchan doesn’t turn back at his name, just shouts, “Come on, Izuku! This is it!” as he sprints like a fawn through the trees.
The insistence in Kacchan’s tone silences Izuku’s whining as he rights himself on the uneven terrain before following. Izuku weaves around giant tree roots and low-hanging branches, having no blade to chop away the woods like Kacchan does as he makes his way through the thicket.
Izuku eventually finds the bottom of the drop-off where a starry-eyed Kacchan waits, gazing longingly up the cliff. Boulders line the rougher section of the wall like makeshift stairs for a giant. As soon as Izuku emerges from the brush all out of breath, Kacchan turns his head so that Izuku can see his mischievous smirk.
“This is what you wanted to show me?” Izuku asks, not sure what to make of it. The cliff marks a shift in the terrain, an incline leading toward the mountains.
“Almost,” Kacchan says. His dagger has been stashed away in its scabbard, so his empty right hand can point confidently at a mossy boulder hanging halfway up the wall. Even when Izuku cranes his neck, he can’t see what might be waiting on top of the boulder.
“Won’t we get in trouble?” Izuku asks. “We told Mom we wouldn’t go off the trail…”
Kacchan rolls his eyes. “That’s why it’s a secret. Now gimme the rope.”
Izuku is tugged forward by his waist as Kacchan yanks the coiled rope from Izuku's belt, then deftly wraps it over his own shoulder.
“Wait, you mean we’re gonna climb—?” Izuku starts, cutting off when Kacchan turns back to face the woods and scramble up a tree trunk. Wide, green eyes watch in awe as Kacchan swings from branch to sturdy branch without any hesitation as if he has taken this route every day of his life. Izuku’s jaw drops when Kacchan makes a leap to an older, taller cedar, this one with a branch so thick it could stand as a tree all on its own should it break off. The branch grows out horizontally, creating a bridge to a ledge on the crag so high up it would dwarf Izuku’s own house.
Kacchan grabs onto the next ledge directly above Izuku and hoists himself onto it belly-first. Upon summiting the boulder, Kacchan rises to his feet and props his hands on his hips in triumph.
Izuku can only applaud in wonder.
Kacchan unwinds the rope from his torso and ties it to another strong branch hanging nearby, looping it around several times. After testing the knot, Kacchan next wraps the rope around his waist and fastens it to his belt securely before dropping the other end over the ledge.
“Tie this to your belt and climb up!” Kacchan orders.
Izuku steps up to the rope and grasps it gingerly, yanking on it a few times. “Is Kacchan really gonna pull me up?”
“It’s just in case you slip, dummy,” Kacchan explains. “The tree will catch your weight, and I’ll swing you away from any dangerous rocks. You can climb up the wall yourself.”
Izuku’s eyes bug out at the suggestion, certain he can’t make a climb like that on his own, but Kacchan doesn’t leave any room for argument, snipping at Izuku to shut up the second he opens his mouth. He tugs on the rope impatiently, causing Izuku to reach out and grab the rock wall to keep from falling over.
“If I slip, won’t I drag you down, too?” Izuku tries as his final protest.
A wolfish growl escapes Kacchan’s clenched teeth as he rapidly grows annoyed with the other’s stalling. “You couldn’t drag me down if you tried. Now get to climbing!”
With tears dotting his eyes, Izuku gulps and slowly begins the ascent. He’s not the most coordinated child, but following Kacchan around through seasons of rocks and woods has grown many callouses on his palms, and the climb turns out to be not as bad as he fears. Most of his options for handholds are blunt and forgiving to his skin, and Kacchan pulls the rope each time Izuku pushes off with his feet, helping him reach the next ledge. It isn’t long before Izuku feels hands grasping the back of his shirt and pulling him up to Kacchan’s level.
“Wow, I did it!” Izuku gasps, blinking at Kacchan’s upside-down knees hovering over his face.
“It wasn’t that big a deal. You’re such a crybaby,” Kacchan chides, untying the rope from the tree branch. Izuku’s hands reflexively slap his cheeks and discover tears flowing down his face without his realizing.
Izuku vigorously rubs his face into his sleeve, mopping up the evidence of his habitual crying, but he freezes when he hears quick footsteps and feels a light breeze blow past him. When Izuku opens his unfocused eyes, he barely catches a glimpse of Kacchan at the end of a running leap, feet scraping off the cliff-face to give him just a bit more airtime as he miraculously catches the ledge of their target mossy boulder.
Petrified, Izuku bolts upright and stares at the impossibly wide gap now between them.
“Your turn!” Kacchan calls.
“Kacchan, I can’t make that jump,” Izuku deadpans. “No way.”
“Come on. Just get a running jump and I’ll catch you.” Kacchan tugs on the rope still wrapped around his waist for emphasis. Izuku feels the tension in his belt and looks down, finding they’re both still tied to each other.
“Kacchan,” Izuku whines, eyes prickling with tears again, “I mean it. I can't. That’s too far.”
“I’ll catch you,” Kacchan repeats, wrapping the rope’s slack around his right arm. “I know what I'm doing. I made the jump, didn’t I?”
But you’re amazing, Izuku doesn’t say, and really, Kacchan is. Izuku can’t imagine most adults making that jump; leave it to Kacchan to make it look so effortless.
“We already came this far. Just jump already!” Kacchan shouts.
No matter how much he trembles, Izuku finds all his misgivings cut off at every turn by Kacchan’s ire. Kacchan has an uncanny knack for getting his way, and Izuku never wins when Kacchan gets stubborn about these sorts of things.
The jump is a blur. Izuku remembers glancing over the edge at the ground far below, knows he must have backed up a much as possible, but the run and leap happen so fast he can’t process them. Izuku blinks away tears, suddenly finding himself flailing through the air, vision tunneling on a single point, that of Kacchan’s open palm outstretched for him, steady and waiting.
Izuku’s fluttering heart can’t find assurance even in the confident expression on Kacchan’s face. As he reaches out to grab Kacchan’s hand, his stomach drops.
Izuku shrieks.
“Izuku, shut up!” Kacchan roars, grinding his teeth as he hoists and leverages Izuku’s upper body over the ledge of the boulder. Izuku doesn’t hear him, just screams his head off as he kicks his hanging legs in the empty air below, having not yet registered the hand clasped around his wrist or the settling of his stomach now that he's reached his destination. “You’re here. You made it, damn it. Shut up already.”
Izuku doesn’t tut at the bad word nor does he shut up until he scrambles to all fours, verifying that he is indeed no longer airborne. In his relief, he tips forward until his face collides with the smooth floor of the boulder, muffling his own mouth.
“I made it?” Izuku mumbles through dirt and moss. He lifts his gaze enough to see Kacchan backed up and flat on his bottom, pants grimy and scuffed from dragging Izuku over the side.
Kacchan grimaces at Izuku’s smudged face before hopping to his feet and untying the rope from his belt. “Told ya. Don’t doubt me when I tell you something, idiot. Now come on.”
Given no time to gather his wits, Izuku clambers to his feet and chases Kacchan into a small opening in the crag Izuku couldn’t see when they were on the ground. It turns out to be the entrance to a narrow cave that grows darker as they walk. Izuku realizes they’re heading into the crag, but the light never dims so much that he can’t see. In fact, after only a few minutes of walking, it starts to lighten up again.
“Kacchan, where are we going?” Izuku asks, genuinely curious and a little excited.
“Not telling. You’ll see. We’re almost there.” Kacchan leads the way, so Izuku cannot see his face. But he can hear the grin in Kacchan’s voice.
The cramped path opens up, and sunlight pours in through natural openings in the ceiling. Izuku looks up through the little windows and sees more trees and earth rising outside.
“Oh wow, we’re so deep inside the mountain!” he gasps, spinning in a circle as he glances from opening to opening. “Kacchan, you don’t think…this is a dragon’s den, do you?”
Kacchan scoffs at him and laughs. “What kind of dragon could fit through that tiny door, hah?”
“Oh yeah, guess you’re right.”
“Obviously. Now quit gawking like an idiot, Izuku, and come see!”
Izuku whirls to look in Kacchan’s direction just as the other ducks around a corner. The lilt in the boy’s voice and spring in his step tell Izuku they have finally arrived at wherever Kacchan’s secret is hiding. Mysterious prize at hand, Izuku darts after him, rounding the corner to discover a marvelous delight.
Izuku has never seen anything like it before.
It’s the inside of a grand cavern, sprawling deep and tall, lined with flickering lights shaped like jagged glass. No, they’re crystals! The cavern walls are embedded with cross-sections of translucent crystals, bouncing back rays of sun that pour in from the holes in the ceiling and lighting up the whole space with wonder.
Izuku shuffles up to the edge of a drop-off, mouth agape in pure astonishment, shining eyes taking in the secret paradise hidden inside the mountain. From the glimmering stalactites hanging from the high ceiling like chandeliers to the impossible ocean of moonflowers blooming far, far below, Izuku can’t help but wonder how such a place could come to exist by the hands of nature alone.
“It’s beautiful,” Izuku breathes, entranced by the brightest azure crystals twinkling all around him.
Kacchan lurks farther in, perched at the top of a rising precipice that overlooks the shimmering garden, looming as if guarding his birthright. As he glances back at Izuku, the backdrop of glittering lights casts long shadows on his boyish face, making the edges of him glow like a sunrise peeking over the horizon.
“Don’t forget, it’s a secret,” Kacchan demands, though his tone is softer than usual, almost uncertain. “I’m sharing this with only you, Izuku. Got it?”
Izuku’s face breaks out into a big, bright smile. “Yeah! You can trust me, Kacchan.”
And while Izuku means it, while he promises earnestly, it is there in that garden of treasures that the gears of fate groan to life, creaking and turning. Katsuki and Izuku: they are only children, still romping unawares in the prologue of their lives, innocent and free and unfortunate.
Tragically, Izuku would forget all about that garden. He would forget everything.
───── ⋆⋅★⋅⋆ ─────
Dragonheart
༺ I ༻
Rite of Succession
☆
───── ⋆⋅★⋅⋆ ─────
For better or worse, Izuku first meets Yagi when walking the forest path to his home. Incidentally, it’s also the first time the young man ever attempts to fight a dragon.
He has never heard of a dragon coming this far down into the valley. The average size of their large bodies makes it difficult for them to hunt prey below the treeline. Izuku has occasionally caught the rare sight of a dragon in the sky circling the mountains, but none ever dipped low enough for him to make out their features. As such, it takes a moment for him to realize that the snarling beast looming over a frail, injured stranger is indeed a jade dragon. When he notices the blood spewing from the stranger’s gut, that’s when the danger registers.
His body moves before he has a chance to think.
Izuku’s arms scoop up a nearby rock the size of his head and lug it at the spitting monster, hitting it square in the eye. The dragon flinches from the blow and yowls a long, suffering cry that rattles the eardrums. Its head snaps in the direction of the new threat as it abandons its prey to turn on Izuku instead.
But Izuku is already darting off the path and into the forest in a bid to lead the monster away from its would-be victim. The monster pursues only to find itself struggling to move freely through the density of the trees. It chooses to swipe them aside with a powerful claw, whittling away the obstacles and buying Izuku enough time to circle around back to the stranger.
Izuku drops to his knees and grasps the dazed man’s shoulders. The man groans, barely conscious, but curiously, the hilt at his hip shines like a star.
When Izuku hears the approaching rumble behind him, he does the only thing he can. He reaches for the stranger’s weapon and brandishes it above him, hoping to somehow block the giant claws spelling certain death for them.
What he doesn’t expect is to find himself holding a ludicrous greatsword, one that could not possibly have fit in the scabbard from whence he drew it. He has no time to dwell on this curious turn of events; the imminent claw comes crashing down on Izuku’s shoulder, which crumples from the force.
The forest shudders from an earth-shattering crack.
Izuku cries out in pain, toppled over by the blow. The greatsword clatters to the ground as Izuku’s broken right arm falls limp and useless.
“What have you done?”
Izuku spins around to meet the haunted gaze of the gaunt man, who sputters around the blood pouring from his mouth. He doesn’t have time to wonder at these odd words; his own senses flood from fear as he spies the shadow of the dragon cast on the ground, rearing back its head and roaring.
But it’s not the triumphant hunting call of a predator; rather, it’s a scream of rending pain. A new arrival cuts a wicked slash under the beast’s side, drawing its attention away. Izuku looks up, and his heart leaps.
Katsuki is here.
The dragon instinctively lowers its body and wings to hide its underbelly from further attacks, relying on its armor of scales for protection. But a grinning Katsuki expects this, already embedding his sword in the ground at his feet in favor of drawing his bow. As the dragon twists around to better see the new threat, Katsuki calmly aims and lets loose a singing arrow that soars dead into the dragon’s good eye.
Izuku barely gets his feet under him before he is forced to drop to his knees again, overwhelmed by the excruciating pain in his arm and the relentless, high-pitched screeching of the wounded beast thrashing overhead.
“Get down!” he hears distantly, not really registering the command until after a powerful gust of wind sends him sprawling onto the ground. The dragon’s wings have unfurled, beating powerfully to create a small gale through the alley of trees surrounding them. Had Izuku remained upright, he would have been brutalized by a monstrous tail whipping blindly through the air.
Katsuki’s taunts lure the flailing beast away from the two others as he draws his sword out of the earth. He leads the dragon to a nearby boulder lodged in an incline toward the mountains, calling and whistling as he goes as if he’s tugging an invisible leash. Perched atop the boulder, Katsuki readies his blade for the oncoming threat.
Izuku, stumbling in the dragon’s wake unnoticed, catches a glimpse of Katsuki poised to strike and looking every bit the heroic warrior like from the stories they so loved as small children. Though he isn’t certain, Izuku thinks Katsuki’s gaze flickers in his direction for a brief moment before that cocky smirk widens.
Show-off, Izuku scoffs fondly.
But his confidence is no surprise; Katsuki famously descends to the valley to hunt and train whenever he can. He has done so ever since he could first lift a dagger. Just like his mother.
Izuku knows this, and yet some dark feeling niggles at his heart that he can’t quite place. It sputters in his chest as he glances up at the dragon’s remaining eye, swollen and teary, the very one Izuku pelted with a rock minutes ago…
The world fades, and Izuku wonders if he’s dreaming. He stands alone in the black. There is no light, no sound, nothing at all save for the glint of the dragon’s eye above him. No, that’s not right. Whatever it is, it’s not a dragon’s eye at all.
Without warning, his world explodes with fire. He burns, but he isn’t hot. He feels no pain, even as he clenches the fingers of his good arm around the flames licking his skin. Not real. Dreaming.
Distant screams. Rushing in his ears, crawling up his spine. Tunnel vision, focused on a point. Glinting, sharp. Impaled. Bleeding.
Katsuki.
Izuku’s stomach drops as his world returns to full color. He’s gasping for air like he does when suddenly awoken from a nightmare. Perhaps that thought isn’t too far off the mark; as he blinks and looks around, he finds the scene of Katsuki facing down the feral dragon exactly as he last remembers it.
But it feels so wrong.
What was that? Izuku thinks, mind churning in confusion. What just happened?
A glint above. Izuku notices.
Izuku dashes forward, panicking, pointing, shouting, “Kacchan! Above you!”
Katsuki’s smirk falters at the warning. He looks to Izuku running toward him, right arm flopping uselessly behind him, and then glances up…
The dragon’s sharp tail has inconspicuously coiled around the boulder on which Katsuki perches. The tip curls in the air like a cobra ready to strike, hanging over an oblivious Katsuki.
His reflexes are quick, practically inhuman. Katsuki leaps back, only barely managing to dodge the spike of the tail that hurtles down, that grazes him and pulverizes the spot where he stood a moment before. The limb’s jagged edge cuts a line down his chest, shredding his shirt and drawing a red but shallow cut diagonally from his shoulder to hip. A glob of his blood not even the size of a coin splatters on the rock.
The dragon’s underbelly is exposed.
Sword in both hands, Katsuki leaps from the edge of the boulder and pierces the base of the dragon’s tail with his blade. Gravity and strength help him carve the beast open with one long slice, ripping open its guts from end to end. Katsuki cuts all the way down to the dragon’s breastbone when he lands on the ground and loses his leverage, but the damage is done. The beast screams and gurgles as its life spills out, dying at long last from a final gouging of Katsuki’s sword driven into its heart.
The raining blood dies down, and Katsuki stands still as a statue, sword plunged within the carcass as it collapses on its side. Only when the dust settles and the danger is clearly over does he deliberately withdraw his blade, eyes never leaving his kill. Blood-spatter from the dragon’s heart paints his face and chest, drenches his pants, soils his boots. He looks a mess, but a victorious mess.
“Kacchan.” Izuku runs up to check on him, panting. “That…was amazing.”
Katsuki hardly spares Izuku a glance, a hint of exasperation in his glare, before approaching the carcass and digging his sword in near the final puncture wound. He methodically cuts open the dragon’s chest, prying out the heart to reveal a fibrous lump settled against it. Unflinching, he plunges his free hand into the gore and pulls out the lump, cutting away at stray tissue with his sword to detach the object from the organ.
The heartstone, as it is commonly known, shines like a bloodied ruby in the setting sunlight, and it seems to captivate the speechless hunter. Katsuki stares at it so long that Izuku begins to worry something is the matter.
“Kacchan, are you okay?”
Snapping out of his reverie, Katsuki wipes and sheaths his blade, then rounds on Izuku to promptly shove him over. Izuku hisses as his bottom hits the ground, an unpleasant jolt shooting through his crushed arm.
“Who exactly do you think you’re worried about?” Katsuki spits, gesturing at Izuku’s injury with his chin. “Useless.”
As Izuku clutches at his smarting arm, Katsuki offers no helping hand, instead walking over to the fallen stranger collapsed on the forest path. He eyes the bleeding gash in the newcomer’s abdomen.
“Who’s the old guy?” Katsuki asks as Izuku struggles to his feet.
“Don’t know,” Izuku says, “but we have to help him. He’s hurt.”
Katsuki narrows his eyes at Izuku before shrugging off the remnants of his ruined shirt. The stranger is barely conscious, so Katsuki guides the man’s hand to hold his tattered shirt securely against his wound before lifting the man into his arms. As he rises, he makes a point of kicking the hovering Izuku away.
“Back off, idiot,” Katsuki snaps, starting off down the valley path toward the forest villa. “You aren’t gonna be of any use with your arm like that.”
Embarrassed, Izuku endures the tense journey back in awkward silence, falling in step behind Katsuki’s lead. It’s not unusual for Katsuki to reject conversation, but Izuku can tell Katsuki is mad about something more, and he wonders if perhaps he’s the cause. Then again, Katsuki also seems distracted; Izuku can only guess as to why.
Izuku has his own distractions to ponder. The injured man in Katsuki’s arms groans in pain every so often, and Izuku finds himself mulling over the man’s odd words.
What have you done?
The impossible greatsword was nowhere to be found before they set off, but more than his shame at having to admit to losing it, Izuku wonders how a skinny, feeble man could carry such a heavy weapon on his person in the first place.
Izuku’s broken arm throbs painfully in response.
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The forest villa is a majestic retreat in the private valley of the royal grounds. Izuku’s mother served as one of the villa’s caretakers in her youth, back when then-Princess Mitsuki often visited to train in the art of combat. The sweeping gardens and courtyards entrenched in the forest cultivate ample peace for a warrior to focus and hone her skills. Katsuki takes after his mother in this regard, preferring the villa to the barracks of the castle for training, among other things.
Katsuki is a common presence at the villa, has been so his entire life, and consequently is a common presence in Izuku’s life. Izuku’s father, Hisashi Midoriya, was a groundskeeper of the forest who tragically died in the second war of Queen Mitsuki’s reign. Officially, Hisashi’s widow Inko was bequeathed a cottage near the villa in recognition of her family’s sacrifice, but in truth Queen Mitsuki ordered living arrangements be made for Inko out of friendship and penance; Inko was one of the few people Mitsuki trusted wholeheartedly, thus she was often entrusted with Katsuki’s well-being once he was born. And so, most of Katsuki’s childhood days at the villa were under Inko’s care, which naturally meant many days spent with Izuku, Inko’s only son.
In spite of this familiarity with the royal family, Izuku has only actually been inside the villa a handful of times and none of them recent. As they crest over the final hill, he is struck by the red light of the sun reflecting off the small pond around which the estate is built, and he can’t help but wish he could enjoy the garden’s beauty if not for the distracting pain in his arm.
At their approach, a half-dozen men leap from the engawa porch, several rushing over to relieve Katsuki of his burden carrying the injured stranger. Izuku politely waves off two sets of hands offering help, ignoring his wobbly legs; he isn’t keen on the thought of appearing incapable to the soldiers among them. He at least has strength enough to make it to the villa on his own.
Katsuki pushes past his own huddle of well-intentioned pests with less decorum, heading straight for the hardened man still standing on the porch’s edge. The man, Shouta Aizawa, observes stoically as Katsuki hands off his bow and blade to a valet before reaching into his quiver to find something.
“You’re covered in blood,” Aizawa says, emotionless. Apparently this fact isn’t too surprising.
“Not mine,” a nonchalant Katsuki replies, not bothering to make eye contact with the man and instead tossing his quiver to another attendant. “Dragon’s blood.”
“You fought a dragon?” Aizawa asks, brow furrowing.
Katsuki hands off the retrieved heartstone to Aizawa. “Killed a dragon. Tell him, Deku.”
Izuku jumps at Aizawa’s sudden, piercing stare. “Oh, um, yes, sir.”
“You helped?”
“Well…no, not really,” Izuku admits, good hand pulling absently at his other's bloodied sleeve. “I didn’t do much of anything. If Kacchan hadn’t shown up, we would probably be dead.”
Aizawa raises an eyebrow. “‘We’?”
“That sorry moron,” Katsuki says, pointing down the hall the unconscious stranger was carried. “The dragon was all set to eat them both when I got there. I’m going to the baths now. Deku,” Katsuki gestures again in the same direction where the stranger is surely receiving aid, “with them.”
Izuku fumbles taking off his shoes with one hand before stepping up into the villa, Aizawa tailing him all the way to the sickroom where plenty of clamor surrounds the injured stranger. A priest and four healers are hard at work, attempting to mend and revive the gaunt man.
Izuku hopes the stranger will survive.
“Did you wander into the mountains?” Aizawa asks, unexpectedly close to Izuku’s ear.
Izuku jumps again. “N-no!” he squeaks, placing a hand on his chest to calm his spooked heart. “No, sir, the dragon came down into the valley. It was attacking…him.”
Aizawa takes measure alongside Izuku of the wounded stranger and falls into a silent reverie. It is some time before another healer arrives to treat Izuku’s arm, though there isn’t much to be done before another two can help reset his broken bones. While Izuku screams through the process, a healer comments on how he must have remarkable pain tolerance to have walked himself home in such a state. Izuku isn’t sure if the comment is meant to be sarcastic.
As they clean, splint, and bandage Izuku’s arm, Aizawa pops in again to have Izuku relay the full story. To Izuku, it seems Aizawa is set on thoroughly embarrassing him; the man constantly interjects to account for Izuku’s part—or lack thereof—in every second of the battle with the dragon. After Izuku explains for the umpteenth time, Aizawa seems satisfied that Izuku wasn’t even a decent distraction to give Katsuki any kind of edge, and the man awards sole victory to Katsuki, all to Izuku’s humiliation.
“I’ll send someone to confirm the kill later,” is the last thing Aizawa says before leaving, heartstone glinting ominously from his hand.
The villa caretakers assure Izuku that word of his condition has been sent to his mother before he allows the healers to treat his pain, which has been crashing down on him in waves as the last dregs of adrenaline leave his system. The drugs send him into an easy, dreamless sleep.
He awakens in the middle of the night, still sharing the room with the wounded stranger. The lanterns have been extinguished, but moonlight pours in from the panel door left slightly open for when the healers check in on them. Or at least, that’s why Izuku assumes there are shadows flickering in the pooling light.
When no one appears in the doorway, Izuku, curious and slightly high, crawls toward the open panel.
The doorway leads to the garden, not the inner courtyard as Izuku expects. There on the porch sits Katsuki, now cleaned up, back mostly to Izuku, legs over the side, staring down the hill at the pond reflecting the moon and dark sky.
Izuku’s instinct is to speak. He would want to ask what Katsuki is doing here as he isn’t normally one for late-night strolls, but in Izuku’s stupor all he can wonder about is what Katsuki is thinking with his face so serious like that. His demeanor exudes a stern anticipation unlike anything Izuku has ever seen from his childhood friend. He doesn’t know what to make of it or the hint of something else lurking underneath, something like sorrow, or perhaps resignation.
And for that reason, Izuku feels compelled to remain silent, allowing Katsuki to save face. He tiptoes back to his futon instead and dreams of white birds and blue stars.
Izuku’s mother Inko arrives at the villa the next morning just as six soldiers set out to find the slain dragon. When Izuku insists that he is ready to return home, he learns they are to stay at the villa until the injured stranger awakens to hopefully explain why a dragon followed him so close to civilization. Until then, no one can be sure if there may be other dragons wandering the valley, posing a threat to his and his mother’s safety.
So Izuku lounges in the sickroom, enduring his mother’s fussing and stealing glances at the still-sleeping stranger. It’s a sunny day like the one before, so the panel doors are left open for him to enjoy the nice weather. He spies the soldiers returning after lunch, watches how they get on their knees to bow formally at Katsuki and Aizawa and announce what they discovered of the dragon’s carcass in the woods.
It’s then that Izuku realizes the gravity of what Katsuki has done.
In her youth, Mitsuki, Katsuki’s mother, was determined to rule as Pallenia’s first queen despite being born into a tradition of male inheritance. She trained for war since childhood, openly rejecting the superstitions of their culture that led many to fear a woman’s reign would be cursed with misfortune. Those who supported her, even serfs like Inko Midoriya, became trusted allies in Mitsuki’s pursuit of the crown. The day she came of age, her twentieth birthday, Mitsuki completed the rite of succession and ascended the throne.
At only age sixteen, following in his mother’s footsteps, Katsuki has completed the rite of succession by dragon-slaying; Katsuki is to be king.
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Izuku awakens at first light, startled from his dreams. He doesn’t remember what he dreamed about, and he can’t fall back asleep.
He crawls out from his futon and sneaks past his mother, mindful of her ability to wake at the slightest creak, a skill honed for times when she is particularly stressed. Having been up all night fretting over her son and helping out the nurses with the injured stranger, Inko Midoriya exudes fatigue even while sleeping. The prospect of dragons destroying their little home has not settled well with her nerves either. It shows in her hunched shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes. Izuku knows she deserves her rest, fleeting though it may be.
As Izuku slides shut the panel door to their room and tiptoes across the wooden floors, he listens for signs of life from the halls of the villa. Not much draws his attention. Perhaps he detects some stirring in one or two rooms, but no one emerges to begin the day yet. Izuku decides to take advantage of the peace and watch the sunrise from the baths.
The springs are a short walk around the garden and through the forest, not too far up a small hill. At morning, the nature path is dewy and blue with morning twilight, permeating with the fresh scent of the woods that gives way to a pungent sulfur the farther Izuku walks.
What remains of Izuku’s grogginess that the spring’s initial odor could not dispel washes away with cold splashes of spring water. Izuku clumsily rinses down with one hand, quickly coming wide awake and shivering, covered in gooseflesh. He can’t be quick enough about making his way to the hot spring pools, sighing contentedly as he eases into the steam and acclimates to the soothing heat, careful to keep his healing arm dry.
The moon and scant stars linger in the morning sky.
Izuku sits in the pool like that alone, accompanied only by the sounds of nature around him as he watches the lazy sunrise. It is so calm and relaxing. Izuku is at peace, and he doesn’t know why he feels as though he needed this. It must be to do with his nightmare, even if he can’t remember what it was.
A tree rustles loudly as what must be a bird takes flight for its morning hunt. It’s a large bird, if the single feather that floats down in its wake is anything to go by. The feather is bright and whole, though a little crinkled, which draws Izuku’s curiosity. It’s beautiful. Izuku thinks to bring it back to his mother…
But it’s white. A bad omen.
What a shame. He knows it’d make for a beautiful decoration otherwise.
Izuku reaches over the spring’s edge for the feather, keen to examine it closer since it looks to be longer than his own head, but he stops short when something stirs. Another tree shudders from the weight of an animal flapping as it hops from branch to branch, culminating in a rather heavy thud at which Izuku chuckles softly. Perhaps that bird isn’t so graceful as its sleek plumage suggests.
A plop and a hiss draw Izuku’s attention from the forest to one of the many spring pools. Two dark-haired men are the first visitors to the baths after Izuku. The younger looks like he could be around Izuku’s age. Izuku thinks he has seen them around the villa before whenever Katsuki comes to visit. They must be from the castle.
With so many disturbances, Izuku takes the hint that his peaceful morning is over. He snatches up the feather as he exits the bath.
After fumbling with his clothes, Izuku makes his way back for breakfast. Just as he spots the opening of the forest path to the garden, a newcomer approaches from the other fork leading out to the mountains.
Katsuki notices Izuku at the same time and scowls, clearly annoyed.
“Kacchan, good morning!” Izuku smiles and gestures to Katsuki’s quiver and bow. “Out hunting again?”
Katsuki looks infinitely more annoyed. Izuku hesitates when Katsuki just grunts and looks away. With no kill in hand, Katsuki’s hunt must have gone poorly. A rare occurrence, and certainly not anything that would help the boy’s grumpy mood.
All as evidenced by Katsuki tossing his equipment at Izuku without warning. Only having one arm to catch it all, Izuku nearly topples over.
“Whatcha got there, Deku?”
Izuku doesn’t have time to process the question while regaining his balance, taken aback when Katsuki swipes the feather sticking out from between his fingers as he awkwardly tries to cradle the quiver. The realization of what just happened leaves Izuku sputtering, gesturing to take the feather back.
White feathers symbolize death. To give one away is a bad omen.
Katsuki glares at the feather, unimpressed.
“Ah, sorry! I found that by the hot spring,” Izuku explains, dropping the quiver to the ground as he tries to snatch the feather back. Katsuki holds it out of reach, raising an eyebrow at Izuku’s flailing, pathetic antics. “I didn’t mean to—! Sorry, I wasn’t—! Just let me—!”
Katsuki spins around, keeping the foreboding prize in hand as he makes his own way to the baths. “The hell you need this for? You lookin’ to land your ass in hot water again?”
“Give that back, Kacchan!” Izuku snips, making one last attempt for the feather before Katsuki kicks him back toward the villa. Presenting a white feather to the future king? Katsuki would never let him live that down.
“Piss off, Deku.” Whatever tiny joy Katsuki was getting out of teasing Izuku has already bled away to ire. “Everyone knows you’re bad enough luck as it is. If another dragon shows up, only one of us has the arms to fight it anyways.”
Katsuki marches up the hill to the baths, leaving Izuku to put away the bow and quiver for him.