Work Text:
“We’re camping here for the night. No, I’m not gonna listen to any of your we can still go a little further Kacchan bullshit, Deku. Even Mr. Vigilant Knight over there looks one upended tree root away from tripping and falling over a cliff.”
“There aren’t even any cliffs around this area, Bakugou!”
Katsuki clicked his tongue, already setting down his clothed broadsword– half of it, anyway– by a tree. “If we fucking continue, I won’t be surprised if you manage to find one, Four Eyes.”
If the dragon prince letting loose a whistle to wave down Kirishima's beastly form to come on down wasn’t enough to convince the others, how the nimble-footed Asui almost fell off Iida’s horse after dozing off definitely did.
Losing their cook in the middle of such a tedious journey (especially for a large party as theirs) was basically a death sentence, after all. So, camping it was.
Personally, Shouto thought he could still go a few more leagues. The sun’s rays haven’t left just yet, giving him enough time before the curse of the night struck him.
But he decided to keep that comment to himself after seeing almost half of his companions– if not all– sigh in relief, tension from the day rolling from their shoulders to the short blades of grass in the small clearing they found. It was– what was the word again–ah, insensitive of him to dismiss their pains.
“You going to just stand there like a useless block of ice or will you move your ass, Icy Hot?”
“Mhm, I’m already helping, though.” Shouto hummed, securing the last of the horses’ reins on some trees a few ways from the campfire that Uraraka already conjured, kindling provided in piles by Satou.
He turned to the owner of the voice, the sound once igniting irritation that brought on an inevitable clash now sending welcoming warmth through the chill of the forthcoming night.
“If you wanted help, you should’ve just said so.” said Shouto, already picking up his bow and quiver.
”Ha? I don’t need any help, you popsicle.” Katsuki snapped at him but lingered by the tree line, waiting.
“Of course.” Shouto didn’t bother hiding the smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he trudged on over to Katsuki. He already slung his bow across his body, and quiver filled with a sparse number of arrows provided by Koda, their woodsmith.
He didn’t need much, anyway. A few arrows sure to be left over once they managed to bring back a deer– or better, a boar and a couple members of its singular.
Shouto never missed a shot; especially not when the sun hadn’t taken its leave just yet with enough explosions of oranges, purples, and magentas in the sky to light the way.
“I could’ve gotten that, fucker,” Katsuki grumbled and ripped out the arrow, flicking off gray matter and red chunks of flesh before handing it back to Shouto. It was a clean pass through, so there wasn’t much damage to the broadhead. “Told you I can do this shit on my own.”
There were a lot of things that Shouto could say was different from moons ago. The bow and arrow, for one, that he currently professed proficiency at, was definitely not part of his previous non-existent skillset.
What need did he have, after all, of such weapons when the curse that ravaged his mind and body when night fell was enough to defeat anything that dared breath in his presence? To freeze and lull them to eternal sleep until their hearts stopped pumping blood, making the soul leave uninhabitable husks.
Another thing, unexpectedly, was Shouto’s ability to read Bakugou Katsuki’s words; to dive in and wade through intricate and veiled meanings– deliberate or not– of grunts and insults. Back then, when the bond between them wasn't of comradeship but of reluctant tolerance, he would’ve taken those words as a slight to his ability. Maybe even used it to start a fight.
Now, though, he knew better.
Shouto sighed, fingers brushing against scales of clawed hands. He tilted his head down, slightly, gaze meeting crimson ones.
“There’s still light out, so I’m fine, Katsuki,” He paused, taking on a teasing tone to ease the other’s concern. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll do a better job at getting our meal for the night?”
Katsuki scoffed, the indifference in the gesture betrayed by the squeeze– clawed hands against cold ones– before trudging on with another deer slung over his shoulder. “In your shitty dreams will I ever lose to you, Icy Hot.”
“Oh, are you saying you want me to dream of you? No need since I always do, Katsuki.”
It was interesting how far they’ve come– literally and figuratively; with only a week away from the Shadow Monarch’s lair, and with the development of an uncanny ability– one that Shouto definitely wouldn’t give up– to make Katsuki blush and stutter.
He watched, a smirk playing on his lips, as Katsuki tried to go for a frustrated look when another prey– boar, this time– fell under Shouto's arrow.
Katsuki turned on him, the furrow of his brow and scowl on his lips were downplayed by the blush high on his cheeks. "You fucking meant to do that, didn't you, ha? You cheat."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Shouto continued on, smiling all the while as Katsuki’s grumbles of the fuck you didn't and smooth ass talker followed him.
If this ability helped Shouto win in this unspoken game between them, that was just a bonus.
“Well, of course, Shouto would win, Kacchan.”
“Ha?” Katsuki growled, unceremoniously dumping the carcasses by Shoji’s station to be skinned.
The glare he gave Izuku simply slid off the alchemist’s head, the other focused on mending broken satchels, cracked weapons, and making the pot for their stew from a couple of rocks.
Izuku chuckled, gloved hands transmuting and transforming earthly elements. “How would you win, Kacchan, when your voice keeps tipping off prey? I mean, your presence is literally a predator. Actually, if you went alone, maybe we would’ve starved toni– ah, Kacchan, I’m kidding, kidding!”
Shouto would be lying if he said he was tired of seeing the two of them bicker. It’d also be a lie if he told anyone willing to listen that he’d prefer silence over their never-ending banter, with him often dragged into it.
How could he not be thankful– not to treat them as a blessing to be cherished and appreciated?
It was astounding how nights– a part of the day that once filled Shouto with fear of being taken over by the Shadow Monarch’s curse– were now something that filled him with warmth as he was surrounded by laughter and love.
“Hey.”
Shouto turned to the hand on his arm, tearing his gaze away from another one of Kaminari’s charades– something about the time he battled an obviously made-up electric eel monster– to meet bright emerald eyes.
Izuku smiled, tilting his head over to where Katsuki was. For once, the blonde’s wish for solitude was respected for the night as he brooded by a corner. “There’s a waterfall nearby. Want to come with?”
It was a simple question; an innocent one if the recipient wasn't aware of the implications appended to it– the invitation presented.
Shouto’s throat went dry, the scarred hand on his arm turning scalding and stroking at the fires stirring in his belly– and lower.
It was a feeling he was once unfamiliar with, even feared at one point, but one that he eventually understood and associated with two others– two pairs of eyes; two hearts; two people.
And it was eventually a feeling he welcomed with a soft ‘okay’ as he excused himself from the rest. Shouto would've blushed– or maybe he already was– when knowing looks and couple of whistles and jeers were thrown their way.
The comfort of Katsuki’s 'fuck you shitty extras' and Izuku’s laugh did manage to ebb away the beginning flush of embarassment. Though the wandering hands– scarred and scaled; alchemist and dragon– definitely didn't stop the heat from spreading.
A heat that Shouto never thought he could experience in the chill brought by the curse that awakened in the night, whispering temptations to freeze, freeze, freeze everything.
"Eyes on me, Shou." Katsuki’s voice was low, slitted crimson eyes eerily glowing as embers in the moonless night.
The prominence of Katsuki’s scales elicited shivers– not from the cold, never from that– from where they went and touched; clothing discarded and forgotten temporarily before the roar of the waterfall met them.
He liked to think of its rumble as a blessing. It cloaked the sounds they made, and blended with the thunderous beat of his heart that increased with every touch and every–
"Shouto, eyes on us. Only me, only him, only us."
Shouto didn't know what exactly he'd say at times like this. Strange considering he'd remember every word whispered into his lips, neck, chest, and everywhere but never what he'd say.
Maybe it was incoherent; strings of garbled moans lost in the night. Or perhaps it was the one thing he'd always say when it was just them– just three.
"Don't–" Shouto choked, heat rocking into him and back. "Don't stop. Please. Please."
There were a lot of things that Shouto treasured in this quest, as unexpected yet destiny-led it was. The shifts in worldview, the friends formed, bonds broken and made, and his own growth.
But above all, Shouto treasured this, them, the most– the alchemist who healed his heart, and the dragon prince who allowed him vulnerability.
It was the gentle caresses, the firm hold, the crooning words of praise, and possessive growls that Shouto held onto. It was them and the warmth of their hearts and love that allowed him liberty of keeping the chill of the curse at bay.
It was this– the emerald and crimson eyes that burned into his body– that he would never want to forget or disregard.
Katsuki chuckled and Izuku smiled, both holding him and each other under the motions that nature intended.
"Never, Shouto. Always, always."
This was what he would fight for, die for, live for.
🌅🌅🌅
Shouto had left the castle at the break of dawn, with slips of morning light catching on red and white locks before the cloak caught on.
He would’ve called the act as ‘leaving home’ if it had ever been one other than a prison for him. He would’ve called it that if his mother had been there– truly been there–, with her mind not just yet lost to the grief of losing her children.
But the scar on the left side of his face made the thought of associating ‘home’ with his mother fleeting– a futile wish of what ifs and what could have beens.
So he had left the castle, riding on a stolen horse until the once looming structure that was his birthplace, prison, and dubbed grave was a mere speck in the distance. He had ridden until both him and the horse had to stop– Shouto with the burn in his thighs and the mare with the burden of carrying the defective prince.
If asked, Shouto wasn’t sure why he chose that particular day to run away. He could’ve done it a year ago, with enough trinkets stolen from the treasury and patrol routes of his guards memorized. Or he could’ve also as easily pushed it back to another day.
“Live, Shouto. My son, my beautiful boy. Live and find who you are outside of the monster he– they condemned you to be.”
Then again, it wasn’t every day that his deranged mother– he still called her mother for he still had memories of when she hadn’t cracked– slipped out of her tower, and left him with words he didn’t know he needed to hear.
Find himself, she said.
That was definitely easier said than done when the Shadow Monarch’s curse of ice followed after him, making Shouto wake up every day to a frozen landscape spanning a couple leagues.
Horses he’d steal, wolves that tried to sneak up on him, wandering rabbits and deers; there were many more but Shouto didn’t bother noting down each and everyone.
Especially not the bandits and pack of thieves whose dead eyes followed him as he packed up and went on his way once more. He already knew, without looking back, that the chill and frost would recede and follow after him.
Find himself, Todoroki Rei said.
How could he when every night spent in the world he’d brazenly broken into only proved more and more how he was exactly what the man who called himself ‘father’ told him, time and time again?
A monste–
“Oh, wow! That’s a nasty curse you got there. Is it just ice or is it temperature? Ah, so you freeze the particles, thereby causing ice to form and the temperature to drop. Hm, that’s complicated, yeah. Have you tried testing it out? Controlling it?”
“The curse is uncontrollable, alchemist. It’s a curse for a reason.”
Izuku tilted his head to the side, emerald eyes gleaming bright even as the sun set behind him and their breaths came out in white clouds.
“I’m not talking about the curse, cursed boy,” He paused, curiosity still present on his face with not an ounce of fear. “I’m talking about controlling your power. It’s yours, isn’t it?”
Find himself, his mother said.
Shouto had wanted, desperately, to do exactly that. He had wanted to know who he was separate from the curse that took away the sister and brother he should’ve had– the family he should’ve had.
He thought it was natural to think that to find himself, he needed to reject a part of himself first. That as this curse was the inevitable cause of everything bad in his life, it was only right to rip out everything associated with it.
But as he traveled with the alchemist, picking up other companions who were walking the same path as him– each with their pasts and hopes for the future– Shouto hadn’t been sure anymore.
Find himself, the woman said.
Was he doing her justice in using the power that thrummed under his veins, his blood long mixed with the curse, to protect the friend he had found? Would she be happy to see his left side covered in ice, while his right held swords and bows?
Or would she call him a fool for truly becoming a monste–
“Ha? Why the hell should others’ dreams and hopes for you matter, Icy Hot? What the fuck do they have to do with shit?”
“My mother wanted me to live. To find myself.”
Katsuki shot him an unimpressed look, scales of deep golds and shimmering scarlet bristling. His claws pointed at Shouto’s chest, the tips a pressure that made his heart stutter.
“Live? Find yourself?” The dragon prince scoffed, puffing out warm smoke between them. “Fuck all of that. Do whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you want, however the hell you fucking want.”
When Shouto had left the castle, the words of his mother spurring him on, he had to admit that this wasn’t what he expected in his journey.
He didn’t expect to be dragged into a quest to vanquish the Shadow Monarch whose existence had once been thought of as a myth– at least before Touya was taken, Fuyumi and Natsuo frozen stillborn, and him cursed.
Shouto didn’t expect to face understanding, acceptance, and unwavering love the first time his curse revealed itself in the night. Where he expected to be shunned, he received warmth and promises of protection.
Because for them– for his friends– he was not a liability or a danger, but someone forced into vulnerability; a situation he couldn’t control.
Live, she said.
As he looked over the two warm bodies wrapped around him, their breaths mixing and bodies flushed against the other, Shouto thinks this was what it was to live.
When he thought of what it was he wanted to do, it wasn’t the prospect of breaking the Shadow Monarch’s curse on him that first popped in. Instead of thinking about the acquisition of freedom, Shouto thought about the prospect of an eternal bond.
He thought of endless days spent with listening to Izuku and Katsuki’s incessant banter; the alchemist’s muttering accompanying the scratching of quill on parchment depicting wonders; the roar that’d rumble from the dragon prince’s chest.
When Shouto thought of whenever and however he wanted to do this– spending his days with the two people who’d captured his heart, and gave him theirs– he didn’t think of forever as something suffocating.
He thought of opening his eyes each morning, not to drab castle walls but to wide expanses of land and sea; to being able to trace scales that’d elicit a rumble or two from the blonde, and count the freckles that arose with the sun.
To live, Shouto thought, was to be with them.
To live, he knew, was to love them.
Then to die, he pondered as he continued watching over them with dawn breaking at the skyline, was to lose them once all of this was over.
To die, Shouto thought, was to blink or close his eyes, only to see the back of Katsuki’s cloak and Izuku’s satchel before they left.
He had known, from the beginning since his heart first stuttered at their touches, that this wasn’t meant to last. The heated gazes, caring touches, and possessive whispers had a deadline appended to them– before their paths diverged.
Maybe that was why, with every time they’d tumble together– in bedrolls, inns, forests, and waterfalls– Shouto never slept; never dared shut his eyes.
Even now, with the looming days ticking down, he couldn’t stop looking at them. Turquoise and gray eyes looked upon the two of them, soaking in everything while he still could.
Loving them silently while he still could.
Letting the tears fall as the rays of rising sun touched upon them was not enough– never– to stop Shouto from looking, looking, looking.
From longing and loving what could not stay.
🌅🌅🌅
“I’m really sorry about this, Todoroki-kun.” Ashido winced when she put weight on her right foot, the swollen ankle wrapped tight with bandages.
Shouto shook his head. “No need to apologize, Ashido. It wasn’t your fault.”
It really wasn’t. The path to the Shadow Monarch’s lair had grown perilous in a matter of a few days. They’d been lucky, frankly, that it took them this long before a trap was set off by one of them.
Shouto squatted, bracing himself as Izuku helped her up on his back. While Ashido wasn’t that heavy– definitely nothing compared to Katsuki’s bulk– she was still a person with enough weight in muscle to make him grunt.
He waved away her concern and took a couple breaths before righting himself, tentative steps turning into casual strides.
“If anything, it’s me who should be sorry,” Shouto turned his head slightly to catch her yellow eyes swathed in dark sclera. “I can only imagine your disappointment that it’s not Kirishima who’s carrying you.”
He turned back as she whined into his back, a smile tugging at his lips when she tried to tickle him. At least he was able to distract her from the pain.
It took a few minutes before Shouto noticed the pair of eyes boring through the side of his head. His steps didn’t falter as he broke through Ashido’s chatter.
“Any reason why you’re staring at me like one of your experiments, Izuku?”
The alchemist smiled, unperturbed at being caught. His eyes glinted, a teasing tone in his voice. “It’s because you’re fascinating, Shouto.”
“Oh?”
Izuku nodded, smile still bright and wide with a touch of wonder and– was that pride? “You’ve changed, you know. When I first met you, you would’ve never done something like this.”
Shouto felt Ashido shift on his back, glancing back briefly to see her nod in agreement. She grinned, poking at his cheek. “Yeah! If it was a couple moons ago, I think you’d have suggested I just cut it off.”
He frowned, brows furrowing. “I don’t think I was that bad.”
“Shouto,” Izuku spoke, slowly. “You do know you threatened to freeze my mouth and that you’d gladly watch it fall off, the third night we started traveling together, right?”
In his defense, Shouto hadn’t agreed then– or at all– to a traveling partner. The other had stumbled into his life, quite literally, and decided then and there to declare themselves a party.
Friends.
It didn't help that despite the life story Shouto shared in an attempt to scare of Izuku, his lover just wiped away his tears and resolutely declared– stupidly– that he'd save him.
A wiry alchemist, fresh from leaving a home that shunned him, save Shouto. He would've laughed if he hadn't cried when Izuku endured the cold of the curse just to hold him and whisper over and over–
“You’re not a monster, Shouto.”
Shouto didn't answer for a while, their steady pace unperturbed. He barely registered Ashido starting up again on her tirade about dragons and their stupid mating customs.
It was one of the reasons why Kirishima hadn't volunteered to carry her, despite their obvious attraction to each other. Something about it being ‘undragonly’ of him to handle her intimately when the courting hadn’t even started yet.
Her chatter wasn't unwelcome, though. It might've been if it was, as Izuku said, a few moons ago.
The Shouto then would've never stepped up to carry Ashido before they set up camp. Actually, he wouldn't even be traveling with the rest of them; he would've left at first light, that he knew.
Because Todoroki Shouto was cursed to be a monster who could only hurt everyone around him. From the moment he was born and the frozen, lifeless husks of midwives littered the birthing room, Shouto knew he was meant to traverse life alone.
That for him to live meant to live alone; without warmth, without care, without laughter– without love.
Until a certain alchemist with half a sword wrapped in mystery on his back told Shouto he was worth so much more. Until Izuku, the foolish man, endured the sheer cold of the night with Shouto, uncaring at all of the scars that’d mark his body.
"If I have changed," Shouto began, eyes locking with Izuku’s. "Then it is because you were– are with me. It is because, despite the danger of death, you still chose to be by my side.”
The words flowed out softly at first; a trickle. Until they slipped and gushed out with Shouto not wanting to stop it.
“It’s because of you choosing to bear scars for me when you could’ve just gone on to chase your destiny. This change, Izuku, is of the heart you helped thaw.”
Shouto was never one to mince on his words. It was a trait of him that solitude induced by his father hammered into him, the soft touch of his mother never there.
Some saw it as rude; Shouto liked to think of it as rare honesty.
“And for that,” He smiled at his steadily blushing lover, their eyes still not leaving each other and soaking in every word. “My thanks and my heart will always be yours.”
Lies were an unfamiliar concept to Shouto. Truths, rugged and rough as they were, were much easier to bind himself to. He found, that with enough truths piled over each other, some could never see the light of day.
So with every truth he’d give– his thanks for the friends he made; his determination to lift the curse and end the Shadow Monarch’s menace; and his love for crimson and emerald eyes– Shouto hoped it would hide others.
He hoped, as he smiled at Izuku stumbling over a rock in embarrassment and Ashido’s cackling in his ears, that the truths buried in his heart and blood would never come to light.
The truth of how Todoroki Shouto would never be the same the moment the sun rose, its rays shining on their victory and on–
The retreating backs of the two people he loved the most in the world, each of them going on their own paths that diverged into directions Shouto could not follow.
🌅🌅🌅
The ambush wasn’t surprising. All their guards were up the moment they took their first steps into the desolate territory– no sign of anything that depended on light to thrive; a chill known to sink deep into bones no matter how many layers worn.
Still, even with Uraraka and Hagakure’s witchlights and Yaoyorozu’s runes, it was inevitable to be caught. Especially when exhaustion seeped into everyone.
Human, elf, dragon, witch– everything needed light to thrive, after all. Which was something that the Shadow Lands made hard to have a glimpse of, save from the sun that blew up cursed clouds.
But it was night now, and the sun long gone into slumber after guiding them to the best it could.
And under the cover of darkness, there would always be the urge to seek light– whether it would spell their death by attracting creatures of unknown, it would not matter.
Anyone was due to act out of rationality when pushed into the end of their wits.
This time, it was Mineta who couldn’t resist the temptation in lighting up a lantern. It was a small thing– just the size of his palm.
But it was enough.
“Fucking go, you idiots!” Katsuki grabbed Shinsou by the collar, pulling him out of the way of smokey claws and towards the others. A moment later, and the seer would’ve been torn to bits.
The creatures, mutations borne from lack of light, were increasing in number even with the lantern that started everything snuffed out. It took only one to gather the others.
Katsuki did another swing of the half-broadsword, dragon fire flaring across and burning them. It helped, too, at keeping the snarling hoard away from everyone.
From everyone but Katsuki.
“Bakugou, what are you doing?! We need to go!”
Katsuki glared at them after he struck down another wave. Sharp crimson eyes met rust ones, making Kirishima bite back his protest before nodding back.
The blonde turned back to the creatures– nasty monsters with caved out holes for eyes, fangs and claws dripping black shadows that burned– and growled, his scales bristling.
”Get off your shitty assess that I’m covering, and go!”
“But–“
A wave of black ice froze the shadows that crept behind Katsuki, their bodies broken midway from crawling from the ground. Shouto’s breath came out in white clouds, the frost covering his left side ebbing when he sidled up to Katsuki.
“Todoroki, not you too–“
“We’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.” He nodded at Izuku, the other’s trust immediate as the alchemist went on to herd the rest to somewhere far; safer.
Turning back to the horde, now twice– if not thrice– as many than earlier, it was strange how Shouto’s attention wasn’t on them. He didn’t mull over the chance, slight as it was, for a mistake to be made and a life lost.
No, that wasn’t quite what was on his mind at that moment.
“If you’re done fucking daydreaming, princess, why don’t you help in making them meet their shitty maker, ha?”
What was on Shouto’s mind was the ease that it took for him to slip past Kirishima and slot himself by Katsuki’s side. It was frightening, how easy it was; the smoothness of the motion, and the lack of resistance from the irritable blonde.
He knew that Katsuki had changed since their parties stumbled onto the same path, a begrudging alliance turned into the formation of strong bonds rivaling that of blood.
The snappy dragon prince of then, scales bristling with pride and crimson slitted eyes looking down on them with derision, would’ve never allowed Shouto to fight alongside him. More or less say the word ‘help’.
The fight was easily turning into a massacre, flashes of roaring red-to-white flames mixing with the sharp towers and walls of black ice dominating the field. The two of them moved in sync, no words wasted as they weren’t needed.
When Katsuki would swing, Shouto would duck. Where the dragon prince would take in a breathe, the cursed prince would freeze the creatures in place in time for the plume of fire to burn them.
It was easy. Smooth. Natural. A dance more than a fight with bodies, hearts, and breaths attuning to the music of the battlefield.
Shouto knew, for a fact, that this had not always been the case between them.
Not for the two of them– princes, noble in nature and high in pride– who were always at each other’s throats from the smallest things that escalated into bruises, lost teeth, cold glares.
Where– no, when did it change? When was it that Katsuki allowed anyone other than Kirishima to guard his back in a fight? When did Shouto start feeling at ease instead of unease when he’d feel that inhuman warmth from the other– knowing, trusting that when push came to shove it would be Katsuki there with him?
When exactly did Shouto depend on the blonde to stave off the curse that plagued him at night? To hold him as he thrashed and sobbed, crying for peace from everything– the pain of ice filling his veins; the burn of black frost on his skin; the incessant whispers to break his mind.
“The hell are you staring like an idiot for?” Katsuki scowled, stepping on one last writhing shadow and grinding it into dust.
The cold was receding from him by the time they finished, the ice covering Shouto’s left side cracking and falling uselessly on the depraved land.
Still, even with the knowledge of a slight chill lingering, he couldn’t help it.
Katsuki was warm. He always was– from the scaled arms that held Shouto in the night; from clawed hands that delicately, with a care he never expected, nursed him when he took a blow for the blonde; from the first press of lips against lips, skin against skin.
Shouto sighed when those warm hands cradled his face as they pulled away from each other, a clear trail snapping from their lips.
When was it that Katsuki allowed this show of vulnerability to him– this level of trust that Shouto ached to hold onto and treasure?
“Come on, Shou,” His eyes fluttered open to peer at crimson ones– Katsuki’s eyes and voice deep and soft. “Let’s go back to the idiots.”
He didn’t know when exactly it was. He could spend some time to mull over it– dissect every interaction they’ve had to know.
But such things weren’t important. Not in the now of the present where Shouto could still lean in for another kiss, give a whisper of ‘okay’, and hold Katsuki’s hand that was always warm.
Knowing ‘why’ wasn’t as important when this present he lived in was nearing the day when it became part of the past; trapping Shouto in a prison of his own making.
🌅🌅🌅
“What will you do once all of this is over, Kacchan? Shouto?” Izuku turned, shifting on his bedroll to face them.
It wasn’t the first time their conversation turned to this. Especially not when they were a day’s away from the castle– drab and dark but standing tall enough not to be called a lair.
It was inevitable to turn to thoughts of the future when everything they’ve worked hard for– preparing, training– would culminate once the sun rose. A feeble attempt, on their part, to not think of the possibility of death.
Katsuki scoffed but shifted, turning to his right. Even with the tinted shade of witchlight on them, his crimson eyes burned bright. "I'm fucking obviously rubbing it in their faces, nerd."
"Rubbing what in whose faces?"
Katsuki grinned, hint of fangs glinting. "My victory in the old hag's face, duh."
"Our victory, Katsuki," Shouto murmured softly, eyes closed from exhaustion but his ears awake to listen. "And you should really stop calling your mother that."
"Ha? Why the fuck should I?”
"Well," Izuku propped up on his elbow, voice taking on a teasing tone. "If you want her to keep call you 'brat' on your coronation, then feel free to keep calling Auntie that."
Shouto couldn't help but crack a smile, his lips settling on it as the two of them bickered over him. Just as it always had been since they met, there was something magnetic in the way they clashed.
A rivalry of sorts that ended with stronger bonds instead of torn relations. It was a wonder to be able to witness this, Shouto knew. A fascination when they’d drag him into it, welcoming him as they rubbed elbows and bit out remarks left and right.
Sometimes, just like now, he dreamt of moments like this.
Where Shouto would wake up to Katsuki and Izuku arguing over whether to stop by a nearby town or brave through another day with their rations. He’d rub sleep from his eyes and they’d immediately be on him, pulling him from one direction to the next.
Then he’d just end up, like always, proposing the compromise that would leave Katsuki’s scales to bristle and pout before spinning it into something to make it seem like he won. Izuku, on the other hand, would be flustered from waking Shouto up and bustle around for the food they caught early on.
It was a nice dream. A future, he knew, would never be true.
“–obably do some greetings to Nighteye and Gran Torino. It’s what All Might would’ve wanted. Maybe even get them to mentor me! How about you, Shouto?”
What will you do once this is all over?
If it had been a few moons ago, when they were just starting this quest, maybe Shouto would’ve been surer of his uncertainty. He would’ve, he liked to think, been sure of saying ‘i’m not sure’.
If it had been then, Katsuki would’ve trespassed into Shouto’s bedroll again, and demanded answers– maybe ask if Shouto was ‘fucking with them’. Izuku would’ve sidled up to him too, under the pretense of calming down Katsuki, until they were both cocooning him.
Then the alchemist would hold Shouto’s hand in a smooth motion with his disfigured, scarred hands– a punishment dealt to those who defied the laws of the world– and begin to speak of the paths Shouto could take until–
‘Want to come with us, Shouto? Ah, that is… only if you want to!’
‘I’m hauling your shitty ass with us, idiot. Don’t you fucking complain.’
If it had been then, he would’ve given a smile of his own and a ‘okay’ interrupted by a laugh. He’d be reaching up to be kissed and to kiss, to be held and to hold.
Shouto had left the place he was born in– the castle that served as his prison and keep; the family that could not be called one, with a mother deranged and disgraced, and a father hated; the people who turned a blind eye to his suffering out of fear.
He had left everything with no expectations of coming back. Or that if he did, he would be far from welcomed– where instead of roses and cheers, Shouto would get spears and rotten fruit.
A prince he was only by name; something he still couldn’t bear to abandon.
So it would’ve been easy then to choose a path that didn’t make him let them go– where he could wake up to mornings swaddled in Katsuki and Izuku’s warmth; to gain blisters on his feet that mirrored theirs; to spend his life traveling beyond the end of the world with them.
If only it was then, not now.
What will you do once this is all over?
Shouto opened his eyes to tinted darkness and forced his tongue to work. He didn’t– couldn’t bear to look at the eyes boring at his sides; imploring and waiting.
“I’ll… go home.”
That had been his plan since Shinsou told him, with the seer’s eyes whited out, that Todoroki Touya lived. And all at once, those dreams he’d had at times remained as they were– dreams.
He had never met his brother, only knowing him from the stashed portraits and the memories of his mother. At his lows, Touya was the imaginary shadow that’d hold and comfort him after another one of his father’s training sessions.
Even though Shouto had never met him, Touya was still, above all, his blood– his brother; the stronghold he clung onto to remain sane.
And to hear that Touya still lived as a mere puppet bound under a curse that was as bad, if not worse, than the one Shouto was under had sealed his fate.
The day he swore to take Todoroki Touya back to his home was the day Shouto had to let go of what ifs and what could have beens where he’d follow after the two people who held his heart, and him theirs.
“Touya will need someone to help him, once this is done. Mother’s in no shape to do that, and Father will do more harm than good. So…”
He forced the words out of his mouth, excuses ringing in the darkness. “I’ll go home.”
While Shouto wanted to entertain thoughts on their reactions– Katsuki’s explosion and possessive growls; Izuku’s determination to find another way, another path– he could not.
If there was anyone else who knew his resolve in this, it was these two. After all, it was them who listened to his stories under the cover of darkness; them who knew his longing for family.
And yet here they were– Katsuki and Izuku waiting on him, asking again, just once more.
What will you do once this is all over?
And once more, Shouto thought of Touya– alone, trapped, afraid; just as he had been before his mother bade him to leave, and before an alchemist and dragon prince taught him how it was to love.
Once more, they asked. And once more, he let them go.
Katsuki broke the silence with a grunt, his body now mostly on Shouto’s bedroll. Claws trailed across his left hand, arm, shoulder, before running through his hair.
"You're going to be a shit brother, Shou," Katsuki’s voice was rough, his touch gentle as they traced the scar on his eye. "…And an even shittier King."
Shouto let his eyes close as he leaned into the touch, his right hand taken by Izuku. Some tears slipped, but they were gone as fast as they appeared; like the shooting stars that graced them in the nights before.
He wanted to say a lot of things in this moment– to open his eyes and look at the consequences of his decision; to acknowledge the pain in Katsuki’s voice; to stop the tremble of their hands.
Would saying ‘sorry’ be enough?
“You’ll be a great King too, Katsuki.”
Even without looking, he knew the other was rolling his eyes and puffing his chest. Shouto didn’t want to think of how there might be tears as well– he couldn’t.
He felt Izuku squeeze his hand, and only then did he open his eyes. Shouto saw Izuku’s smile as the other brought his hand up, lips brushing against it.
“What we mean to say is,” Izuku turned it over, until the cold palm cupped his face. “If that’s what you want, Shouto, then that’s what you’ll do.”
There was this pressure on Shouto’s chest. A block in his throat. An ache in his bones. A burn in his eyes.
That was what he wanted. It was the plan he went with and the path he chose.
There should be anticipation running through him for the sun to rise and break through the desolate land, heralding a new era. Excitement to finally meet Touya, and get another chance at family.
That was the plan.
Then Shouto fell in love, and there was nothing more than he wanted than to never have the sun rise over them. He lost his footing and fell, succumbing to the feeling of love he knew he would never experience with anyone else.
Only them. Only him. Only Katsuki and Izuku.
But the world was vast, and not meant to be constricted to just them. There was always something more than love to consider, with choices making way for sacrifices.
So Shouto choked out a ‘hold me’ instead of ‘make me stay’. The tears that spilled were silent and lost in kisses that lasted until they needed to take breaths.
Even when all Todoroki Shouto wanted was to be Izuku’s Shouto and Katsuki’s Shou, he continued to fall; into despair, into the curse that was love.
He should’ve known better that for all his luck in the world–
With another curse gone, came another more deadly, more painful, and would never have a cure.
“Shou, Shou, fuck–“ Katsuki moved against him, groans turning into growls as he held Shouto. Bites littered his body, the blonde lapping at the blood with kisses and murmurs, “Mine, mine, ours.”
Scarred fingers wiped away Shouto’s tears as Izuku moved in turn, showering Shouto with kisses and bruises. “Shouto, my Shouto, our Shouto.”
They kept calling his name, and Shouto didn’t know what answer he gave. Did he call for them as well? As they carved their place in his body– in his heart–, making his insides burn and filling him with warmth, did he say something?
Or was it just a littany of–
“Yours,” Shouto sobbed, nails digging into their shoulders as they moved, his body moving along to the rhythm. “Yours, yours, just yours.”
What will you do once this is over?
He didn’t know. Shouto didn’t want to know what he’ll do once this– soft kisses, hard thrusts, possessive murmurs– was over.
He was lost, untethered from knowing that this was soon to be a part of the past that would never be repeated as the present or the future. That their names would, eventually, leave their minds and hearts; their bodies replaced by others; someone else to call theirs.
Shouto knew all this but he still held on; he still let himself fall. He had let himself be caught in their embrace– in Katsuki’s rare smiles, and affectionate grunts; in the shine that’d come on Izuku’s eyes, sharing his gentle warmth.
This curse of love was something he welcomed, knowing very well that it brought only suffering when the passage of time reminded him of its temporary nature.
Still, he loved. Still, he held them in turn; kissed them; touched them.
Still, as the sun rose over Katsuki and Izuku’s sleeping forms, Shouto watched over them and loved. He watched day break’s muted explosion across the horizon through the desolate land, bathing them in a memory of a last time.
–Of a good bye to what his heart called home.
🌅🌅🌅
The next time the rising sun’s rays fell on them, victory had dawned. There they were, a party of people so unlike– dragonfolk, witches, humans, elves– standing at the edge of the world, their cries signaling the start and end of an era.
Curses broken, lands liberated, sick healed, and freedom attained.
It was the typical happy ever after spoken of in bedtime stories, where the heroes prevailed and peace erupted across the lands. A story– a legend, surely– to be told by weary mothers to tired children.
Maybe even a ballad or two written by one of the heroes who knew how to work a tune, Jirou’s works known to all ears by the end of the day’s end.
It really was a time to be happy– to shed tears of joy; to let out cries of relief; to laugh and plan celebrations.
Shouto wanted to relish in it; this atmosphere. He wanted to crack a smile with Sero and the others. Even go for another overdue hug with Touya who was being taken care of by Iida and the others for some catching up– on how the world had been in his years of darkness.
He wanted to cry with relief, with the shackles of the curse gone with the last cry of the Shadow Monarch. There was no longer an ever-present heaviness accompanying his steps– no chill that made people flinch when touching him.
He was finally, just Todoroki Shouto.
This moment was something he’d been dreaming of for maybe longer than he could remember; longer than the first time he woke up with the loss of lives in his small hands and the label of ‘monster’ rather than ‘human’.
In the days Shouto spent on this quest, the moons that went and gone, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel at the end of it.
Would he cry and wet Touya’s face with tears as he held his brother for the first time; both of them free? Or maybe he’d collapse on his knees, and let exhaustion finally take him for a good sleep; where he’d wake up to a world that was brighter?
He thought he’d do those things and more.
But instead here Shouto was, standing– mesmerized, enchanted– at the sight before him.
It wasn’t like he was new to beautiful sights or moments where magic was rich in the air– enough to make the grass greener, the sun softer, and people prettier. This quest in itself had made him see more of the world than he thought he ever could when he set out– from the raging rivers, to rocky terrains, and wide valleys.
And yet here Shouto was, feet rooted to the spot and eyes locked onto gold and deep green.
They stood atop a mountain of collapsed rubble where the Shadow Monarch’s lifeless body lay, two halves of a holy sword sticking out.
Katsuki’s cape was nowhere to be seen, most likely lost in the first seconds of battle. Some of his necklaces and amulets still hung from his neck, worn down from wear but still hanging on. Wounds ranging from scratches to deep cuts littered his arms and chest, smooth and jagged lines moving with every ragged breath.
Izuku wasn’t looking any better, if a bit more worse with the lack of the physical tenacity of dragonfolk. The gloves of his own making, with transmutation circles sewn onto the points, were torn and hanging by a thread. The loss of them attested to the complete obliteration of his right sleeve, still bleeding wounds racing across his arm.
They were far from looking their best. At most, they looked one tap away from slipping and rolling down the rubble.
Shouto should be rushing over to them. He should be ignoring wounds of his own to catch them when– not if– they fell; to dress their wounds, and share smiles.
That was what he should be doing.
And yet.
There he stood, frozen, enchanted. His heart drowned out everyone and everything as he watched, for the first time in ages, the sun break through the desolate land.
Shouto watched, heart singing a crescendo, as the sun’s rays bathed Izuku and Katsuki in morning light. And he could not think of anything else– would not– but–
Beautiful. Mine. Theirs.
Shouto couldn’t tear his eyes away– didn’t want to–, desperation clawing at him to never, never let go of this sight– of these heroes; of these men; of these two. The sight of Katsuki and Izuku roaring out their victory, fists trembling, made him want.
It was want, desperation, longing that made Shouto, for a blinding moment, think to choose different– to live and to love as he chose.
To choose the home to come back to.
“Shouto?” The voice snapped sensation and sound back, making him turn away to face turquoise ones that mirrored his. Touya frowned, reaching with trembling hands to wipe away Shouto’s tears.
“Why are you crying?”
“Ah…” He brought his fingers to his face, pulling away to see them shine. “I’m sorry.”
What was he crying for? Apologizing for? What did Shouto want–
Touya smiled at him, eyes looking past his brother before flitting back to him. He cupped Shouto’s face, leaning down to brush his lips against his brother’s forehead, brushing away more tears.
“Thank you, my brother,” He smiled, pulling away to gaze at Shouto softly. “My blood, my Shouto… my hero.”
Touya wiped some more tears before pulling away completely, his white hair ruffled by the morning wind. He looked past Shouto again, taking a step back.
“Touya…?”
Shouto still didn’t understand why he was crying– why the tears hadn’t and won’t stop. He didn’t know why he hadn’t clung onto his brother, or why he hadn’t taken his hand and led them away.
Shouto didn’t know why he was apologizing. But it seemed that Touya did, with that understanding smile on his face, and a kiss of goodbye.
“It’s fine, Shouto. I’ll be fine,” Touya grinned as he gave Shouto a little push. “Now it’s my turn to make sure you’ll do fine, little brother.”
“Touya.”
He took another step back, and another, and another. Turning and walking away, Touya gave a small wave back.
“Don’t keep them waiting, Shouto. I think they’ve waited long enough.”
At this point, Shouto knew he was being a given a choice; presented a crossroads. One, he knew, was the one he was supposed to choose.
He should take that step forward and draw his brother in his arms, never to let go again. He’d take Touya’s hand and lead them both home; back to the castle, to the kingdom that mourned his brother, to the people who needed a king.
That had been the plan. It was a path where Shouto didn’t need to consider being selfish; where he could offer everything to Touya and their people. A choice that he thought easy, natural– effortless.
“Touya,” Shouto choked out, heart clenching as he watched his brother walk away. His body trembled, eyes burning as he moved– to turn away and run.
“I’m sorry.”
And yet here he was. Here they were. With Shouto’s body burning as he ran, rocks and rubble breaking skin before they met the relief of a warmth he never wanted to let go.
When had he made his choice? Was it just then, in that moment he got Touya’s blessing?
“Ha, fucking shit,” Katsuki’s voice rumbled and reverberated throughout Shouto’s body, his hands clinging and digging– not letting go. “You’re a confusing little fucker, you know that, Shou?”
Or had he made it a long time ago, when Katsuki first called him his, theirs, and Izuku smiling at him as he told Shouto he loved him, them?
He didn’t know.
“You know I’m,” Shouto sniffled, face still hidden in the crook of Katsuki’s neck; “taller than you, right?”
Izuku laughed as Katsuki swore, resting his head against Shouto’s, scarred hand resting on his nape. “He got you there, Kacchan.”
“Fuck you, Deku. Fuck you too, Icy Hot.”
Shouto tightened his arms around them, voice breaking when he realized they weren’t pushing him away; weren’t rejecting him; weren’t telling him he missed his chance.
“I love you too.”
He didn’t know when he made this choice; chose this path. Shouto didn’t want to know what would’ve happened if he didn’t realize it sooner– if he took that step forwards instead of back; to turquoise instead of crimson and emerald; to his prison instead of his home.
Would he have lived in misery? Wasted away in regret and tormented by dreams of what-ifs?
Shouto didn’t know.
He heard Katsuki let out a shuddering breath as the blonde wrapped his arms around in turn, burying his face in Shouto’s neck. The claws drew blood, but it wasn’t the pain that shook him, no.
It was the tremble in their bodies as they clung to him, the silent whimper and sobs that only Shouto could hear. It was how they struggled not to collapse in his arms as they told him–
“Last chance to back out, Shou,” Katsuki’s claws dug tighter, trickles of blood running down. “Last fucking chance, you infuriating idiot.”
“Push us away now, Shouto,” Izuku kissed his hair, the hold on his nape tightening. “Tell us now, please, that you don’t want to be with us and we’ll go.”
He didn’t know how things would go from this point on. There was still anxiety over Touya coming home alone. He was still double-thinking every choice he was choosing at this very moment.
But what Shouto knew– what he’d always known since Izuku stumbled into his campsite, and Katsuki challenged him to a fight– was that he wanted.
Shouto wanted to never let this love go– to see love as a blessing rather than a curse.
And he no longer wanted to be the fool who disregarded what he wanted– what his soul sung for, his heart beat for, his body longed for.
Shouto laughed, the sound muffled by sobs and tears slipping into his mouth. He pulled away enough to see their eyes; crimson and emerald looking and imploring him to–
“I’ll stay. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay. As your Shou, your Shouto. I’ll stay.”
🌅🌅🌅
Sometimes, Shouto dreamt. It was flashes, mostly. Forgotten once a few minutes passed after he woke. But in those few minutes of lucid clarity, he remembered it.
He dreamt of a life where he wasn’t cursed. His room, the castle, and the kingdom didn’t appear dreadful to him in that dream– there, it was home.
He dreamt he’d walk down to the dining hall and bump into Natsuo, both of them not morning people. The servants would greet them as they opened the doors to a sight that Shouto teared up at.
His mother, regal and smiling, was seated by his father’s side. She’d nudge at his father to take a few bites in between as the large man debated with Touya over one matter and the next.
Fuyumi was there, the first one to spot Shouto and Natsuo. She’d wave them over, and exchange pleasantries that both returned sluggishly.
And in that dream, they’d have a family meal. The dining hall would be filled with morning light, amiable chatter waking the castle up and signaling the new day.
Whenever Shouto woke up from dreams like that, the disappointment of it not being reality wasn’t as crushing as before. It didn’t make him regret, for a moment, that he woke up.
No, waking up from it filled him with melancholy, but not grief and sadness.
For here he was, waking up to Izuku’s smile and greeting of ‘good morning’, and Katsuki’s growl for him to ‘get off his ass already’.
Here Shouto was, already living a dream he would not trade for anything else.
Here he was. Here they were greeting the day with a promise that even when paths diverged, just as it was with the sun’s rays, they would converge.
Here, Shouto knew, that even if there were choices to be made in the future that split them apart, they would eventually come together again.
Eventually, inevitably, they would meet, love, and call each other theirs.
As long as the sun rose.