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“What the fuck is this?” Katsuki’s heavy breathing filled the small space of his helmet. The air from his lungs tasted like gunpowder. His ears were ringing with the echoes of blaster-fire and he was balanced on the hair-trigger of movement that came to him in the middle of a good fight.
Yet - he was frozen. A part of him couldn’t understand what the hell he was seeing.
Below him, tucked into a shining, metal pram, sat a young girl. She didn’t look older than four or five, but since she wasn’t human it was a little hard to tell. Huge silver eyes stuck out from a humanoid face, and a horn curled over one eyebrow. As Katsuki looked, the girl shrunk back, seeking solace in the cradle that had been hiding her mere moments before.
In one hand, Katsuki held his blaster in a loose, stunned grip. In the other, his tracking fob beeped incessantly. His bounty was… right in front of him. The target that he had fought his way through a literal stronghold to get to was right here. His bounty was a child.
He was supposed to kill a fucking kid.
“Oh hell fucking no,” Katsuki growled. He closed his fist around the fob. The cheap metal gave way to his grip, caving in around its bounty-seeking organs with nothing more than a tiny alarm of protest. In the pram, the girl rallied herself, and hissed at him. Tiny teeth like daggers filled her mouth, but the effect still fell short.
“Agh, dank farrick!” Katsuki cursed again, but he spun his blaster back into place at his hip. Inwardly, he continued cursing. Outwardly, he didn’t hesitate.
Katsuki of the clan Bakugou was a Mandalorian. He was descended from a proud line of warriors and mercenaries. But just because he cashed in on bounties for a living didn’t mean that he was okay with hurting children. Fuck that yakuza has-been with the stupid bird-droids and bucket full of Beskar. Katsuki would rob the man blind and protect the youngling, he decided. (He’d get away with it too. Because he was that fucking good.)
Outside of the small storage room they were in, Katsuki heard the distinctive heavy steps of a battle droid stomp past.
“Alrighty kid,” Katsuki said, his voice falling into a near whisper. He knelt down onto one knee. The girl hissed again, but looked uncertain. Katsuki saw the heavy lines of exhaustion under her eyes. Katsuki continued on, undeterred. “My name is Katsuki,” he told her. “And I’m gonna get you the fuck out of here.”
The girl’s eyes darted up to Katsuki’s helmet. She searched for his eyes. Then - inexplicably - she seemed to find them. For the first time since Katsuki had cracked open her tiny metal box, he saw something sharp and hopeful enter her gaze.
Still, she held back.
“I don’t believe you,” she hissed. Her words were spoken in Common, but they were slightly garbled. Katsuki couldn’t place her accent.
Outside the room, he again heard the quick pat-pat of footfalls, followed by a shout and blaster fire. It looked like the stronghold’s guards were rallying themselves. They didn’t have much time. Katsuki had been able to take out most of the guards with one of his (famous) improvised explosions, but he wasn’t eager to face reinforcements.
“Okay,” Katsuki whispered. “You don’t have to believe me. Here.” Quickly, he unsheathed a tiny knife from his boot. It was small - meant to stay concealed even after undergoing the most thorough of searches - and it would suit her needs perfectly. He held the weapon out to her, hilt first. “This is yours now,” he told her. “I’m going to carry you out of here. If you think that I’m going to hurt you, aim here.” Katsuki tilted his head to the side, and pointed to the warm, low point on his throat, where his helmet didn’t reach, and his breastplate didn’t cover. “If you stab me here, I won’t have time to hurt you before I’m dead.”
The girl looked between her new dagger and the vulnerable spot on Katsuki’s throat. Finally, she looked into his helmet again. Katsuki felt their eyes meet, though he still didn’t understand how she was doing that.
Without another word, she held out her arms.
He picked the girl up from the pram. She wrapped one arm around his neck, but held the other away. Her knife was free and ready to strike. Good instincts, Katsuki thought.
“Alright kiddo,” Katsuki pulled his blaster back out. “Here is how this is gonna work. You do what I say, when I say it.” Katsuki glanced sideways, and the little girl nodded, her brow furrowing in concentration. “Good. Now watch my six.”
A few hours later, Katsuki cursed again, squinting through the burning pain in his leg. He and the little tyke had made it out of the facility, but it had been a lot harder than expected. The guards had apparently had some pretty heavy-duty reinforcements at their disposal.
In the end, Katsuki had fought off the fuckers, but he’d taken a blow to the knee to do do it. It’d been sloppy, but there was really no way around it. Not while he was shielding the kid in his arms, anyway.
The pain in his knee struck up his leg, and began to curl his spine. At best, it was probably dislocated. No time to worry about that, though. They had to get out of here while they still could, and get back to his starship. After that, he’d get them the hell of off this planet, and to somewhere with a fucking doctor.
Previously compliant and still in his arms, the girl suddenly shifted. “You’re hurt.” She said, leaning slightly to peer down at the blood soaking his pant leg.
“I’m fine,” Katsuki grit out, but a moment later the girl lunged forward, trying to be put down. Normally, Katsuki would have no trouble keeping a thing as small as her in his arms, but the sudden lurch threw his weight onto his bad knee, and Katsuki collapsed with a half-strangled curse. His vision blacked out.
When he came to a moment later, he cursed for real, his anger echoing around inside his helmet.
“I told you to fucking-!” He froze. The little alien had placed her hands on his busted knee, and a cool, rushing sensation was spreading from the wound all the way up his leg. Katsuki felt like he’d stepped into an icy river. The relief was immediate, and almost jarring. Not quite daring to hope, Katsuki looked down at his knee. His skin was whole. There was no swelling to indicate a dislocation, and no bone prodding through his skin, either.
“Holy shit,” Katsuki breathed. He looked up at the girl in astonishment. Her brows were furrowed together in concentration, and as he watched the horn on her head slowly shrank. Already, it was half the size it had been when he’d first found her. The girl’s face was also slowly turning purple.
“Oy!” Katsuki lunged forward, taking her by the shoulders. “Breathe, stupid!”
She did, gasping loudly. The cool sensation dissipated from Katsuki’s leg, but the pain didn’t return. No fucking wonder her bounty is so ridiculous, Katsuki thought, standing and sweeping her back into his arms. Unconsciously, he drew her tighter to his chest.
Well, he thought, not on my fucking watch.
In the distance, Katsuki heard shouting.
It was time to get moving again.
Midoriya Izuku was tired.
He was deeply, achingly tired. Phantom pains shot down his artificial arm, making his robotic fingers twitch. It had been a year since he’d lost his arm, and the pain only ever bothered him now when he’d pushed himself too far.
All around him, various people and aliens chattered on board the Star Commuter Shuttle. It was a squalling, messy affair, but worth the trip as Izuku feigned sleep (desperately wishing for the real thing) and settled into a light meditation instead. He focused on his ears, and slowly, he began to parse through the dozen languages and conversations which were happening around him.
A married pair of Pavorarians were discussing their upcoming vacation. A man was talking loudly into a communicator. A small group of assorted teenagers were recording a hologram. A human and Twi’lek were flirting with each other. Others were ordering food, complaining about the service, and shifting restlessly.
Izuku sunk deeper into his meditation, and he began to filter the various scents of the room through his nose. The most prevailing emotion in the room was annoyance. Annoyance, impatience, and the low, sour stench of tension and violence.
Hm. Izuku sighed, and shifted slightly in place. There were a few bounty hunters on board. Well, that wasn’t so strange. Good bounty hunters could afford their own ships and fuel, but most of them got around like this, hopping from planet to planet while looking for their big break.
Izuku filtered through the languages around him and found the hunter’s voices amongst the throng.
“-give it up already?” One woman complained, “The Mandalorian got her. He’s collected the bounty for sure. That fob ain’t anything but extra weight anymore, and you know it.”
A man sighed. “It was just such a good bounty,” he said. “And I was so close. I saw her, you know. In fact, I fought the Mandalorian-”
“Stop lying! If you’d fought the Mandalorian, you’d be dead. Simple as that.”
“I did, though! And I got a blow on him too! Like this-”
“Whoa,” a third person spoke up. “What’s this about a Mandalorian?”
“Fuck, don’t encourage him…”
“Oh I’m so glad you asked! Okay so, the bounty was for this kid, right? I didn’t recognize her species, but she had a horn like this…”
Eri. They’ve seen Eri.
Izuku’s spirit had long withered into a dead, parched version of itself. Where once his spirit had been green and lush like the grasses of his home planet, now it was barren and drought-ridden. The bounty hunter’s words were like a match, placed directly against the dry death of Izuku’s spirit.
He ignited in one furious breath.
Once upon a time, Izuku had been a Jedi Knight. He’d been taken into the order as a youngling, and he’d grown up in the temple on Coruscant. He’d eventually become a Padawan, and then a Knight.
He worked hard, and while he’d never been the most talented or brightest in his generation, he’d still been well on his way to becoming a Master in his own right. In the meantime though, Izuku took up a post on Coruscant, training the Younglings. He’d loved it.
Then, the Jedi Order fell. The Council was murdered, the Jedi Knights were betrayed and killed, and the younglings… were massacred.
Izuku had been there. He, working with his young class, had heard the screaming start from the other side of the temple. Then he’d sensed the brutality in the force, and he’d felt it when his fellow instructor’s - his friend’s - life forces were snuffed out.
Izuku hadn’t known what was going on. Protocol said that Izuku needed to fight and eliminate the threat to his young ones. But instinct said that Izuku would lose, and his younglings would die anyway. So Izuku had run away with his tiny class, all the way to the emergency escape pods. By the time Tenko caught up with them, all the children were loaded in their escape units, and Izuku had already initiated their launch.
Eri had been Izuku’s youngest charge. An orphan, Izuku had been the only father-figure she’d ever known. On the day of the massacre, Izuku had kissed her head while buckling her into place, and had told her that he would come find her. Then he’d sacrificed his right arm and very nearly given his life to launch her ship.
Only Izuku’s innate gift with the force had allowed him to play dead long enough to fool Tenko, and to patch his wounds at the same time. When the budding Sith-Lord left, satisfied, Izuku peeled himself from the floor, and went to look for survivors.
There were no other survivors.
And there were no reinforcements.
So Izuku, battling fevers and grief and wielding his saber in the wrong hand, had left the Temple by himself. By the time he got to space, the distress-signals from his youngling’s pods were nowhere to be found. He prayed that some gentle starcruiser had happened upon them and rescued them first, and prayed harder that Tenko hadn’t found them.
Either way, he’d spent the subsequent year looking for his children. He healed, slowly. He worked up enough credits to buy himself a prosthetic. He searched, high and low, but he’d never heard a whisper as to their fates.
Until now.
Rising slowly, Izuku walked to stand before the trio of bounty hunters. It was only after Izuku let his wildfire aura unfurl that they noticed him. It burned the air, stilled their muscles, and silenced their voices. By then, the entire cabin was silent. All eyes were on Izuku.
“The Mandalorian,” Izuku rasped, “the one who has the girl with the horn. Tell me everything you know about him.”
Katsuki liked this planet so far. It was rural as fuck, and only locals and the occasional desperate traders came through. Despite that, the climate was temperate and mild, and food was easy to come by. Credits and fuel were less easy to find, but that wasn’t anything that the occasional off-planet bounty couldn’t fix. Most importantly though, the kid liked it.
For a few months after rescuing the kid, Eri, they had been run ragged, chased back and forth across basically the whole galaxy. Katsuki should have expected it with the ridiculous bounty on her head, but more people than he’d expected wanted the girl. Most prominently, a warlord in the Eastern Quadrant had heard of her healing ability, and wanted her powers for himself. It was only after Katsuki had (in a pretty unrelated incident) acquired a Beskar spear that he was able to fight back against the shitty bird-fuckers glowing sword and finally kill him.
From there, Katsuki had been able to take Eri, by then officially his daughter under Mandalorian law, to safety. It had been three months since then, and Katsuki thought that he was kicking ass at this dad-shit. At the very least, he didn’t suck. He was pretty sure, anyway.
Right now, Katsuki was headed back to the little cabin they’d picked up. He’d gone to town to pick up some supplies and make some holo-calls, and had left Eri at the cabin. Even after a few months of peace though, it felt dangerous to leave Eri anywhere. So he was hurrying back, his armored boots clinking softly across beds of pine needles.
Later, Katsuki would have that anxiety to thank for what happened next.
There was no sound. There was only the slightest shift in air. A ghost of a breeze swept across his shoulder, opposite of the direction of the wind.
Katsuki lunged forward, tucking his body into a tight roll. Not a moment too soon, as a man - tall, broad, dressed in brown robes - exploded down from the trees, cutting open the ground with a glowing green sword where Katsuki had just been standing.
“Fuck!” Katsuki hissed. His Beskar spear was already in his hand. He rose from his crouch slowly, keeping his weight on the balls of his feet. The last glowing-sword fucker had been shitty. Katsuki was not eager to deal with another. Especially not this one… who was looking at Katsuki now with dark, burning eyes.
“You,” the man said. He took a step left, and Katsuki mirrored him. They circled each other slowly under the silent jury of the pinewood forest. “You’re the Mandalorian.”
It didn’t sound like a question, but Katsuki scoffed anyway. “I’m a Mandalorian, fucker,” he said, “The name’s Katsuki. And who th’fuck are you? Some kind of monk?
“Izuku.” The man spat, his face twisting in rage. “A Jedi. And the man who is going to kill you.” Katsuki knew better than to doubt his sincerity.
The best bounty hunters were, by necessity, dispassionate when it came to hunting. They had their targets, but what they actually wanted was never someone’s life. It was money. This man, though. He definitely wanted to kill someone. Preferably Katsuki, apparently.
Experimentally, Katsuki lunged, jabbing his spear to Izuku’s middle. The green sword - a lightsaber, Katsuki thought - swept forward to catch the blow. He disengaged, stepping back. Under his helmet, he bore his teeth at the glowy-eyed motherfucker.
“The fuck did I ever do to you?” Katsuki asked.
Izuku sprang forward, aiming a slashing blow to the unprotected joint of Katsuki’s shoulder. He caught it with his spear just in time, and threw Izuku off of him.
“You took her!” Izuku yelled. “You took her and you sold her! Now tell me where she is!”
“Who?” Katsuki asked, gritting his teeth. He’d known that the fucker was after his kid, of course, but he’d been holding onto a hope that this was more of a personal grudge.
Playing dumb was the wrong move though. If Katsuki thought the man was furious before, he was fucking apocalyptic now.
“ERI!” He roared, lunging at Katsuki. “Eri! The youngling you hunted!” He struck blow after blow. Each one landed like a fucking meteorite, until Katsuki suddenly found himself on one knee, fighting the bearing weight of the glowing sword as it inched closer and closer. Part of him was struck dumb, however, caught upon the single, bellowed word from his opponent.
Eri.
None of the other bounty hunters had ever called Katsuki’s daughter by her name. In fact, he was pretty sure that they didn’t know it. Hell, it had taken Katsuki over a fucking month to get the girl to tell him. He’d just called her “Kiddo,” and “Punk” for a while.
“How,” Katsuki gasped, “do you know her name?”
The green eyes above him faltered. For a half-second, the mask of rage disappeared, replaced by something hollow and desolate. The air grew heavier. Katsuki’s throat closed. He thought he might cry. The rush of emotions was so foreign and powerful, that his strength faltered, just for a second. The lightsaber bore down, and Katsuki barely dodged, ducking his head so it was deflected from the edge of his helmet, rather than his throat.
“Because she’s my daughter!” Izuku roared. He snapped out with a powerful kick, straight to Katsuki’s breastplate. The armor caught the damage, but it didn’t save the breath from being knocked out of his lungs.
Katsuki rolled with the movement, fighting hard not to choke. He was given no chance to recover, however. Izuku’s boot slammed down onto his wrist, breaking his hold on the spear. His other foot planted itself in the middle of his chest. “Tell me where she is!” He demanded, raising his sword again.
Suddenly, a bright, silver shape slammed into Izuku, knocking him sideways.
Attagirl! Katsuki thought, and scrambled to his feet. He again leveled his spear at Izuku, who had been knocked, stupidly, to the ground. “Eri!” He barked, “get behind me!”
But Eri, wild-eyed, crouched on all fours as it sometimes came natural to her, didn’t move. She was looking at Izuku, and while a low growl rumbled through her throat, it was faltering. Meanwhile, Izuku seemed to have forgotten about Katsuki completely.
“Eri?” He asked. Izuku’s mask of anger drained away. Katsuki could fucking feel it leave the air. When it was gone, it was as if the world took an enormous, relieved breath. Left behind was… Izuku. Who looked like a far softer, gentler man than he just had been. “Eri,” Izuku said again, and fat globs of tears began to slide down his face. “Y-you’re really - you’re alive.” Izuku’s lightsaber, beginning to burn the ground, abruptly sheathed itself. He didn’t seem to notice.
Izuku didn’t reach for Eri, or Katsuki, but tucked himself forward, placing his forehead against the ground. He sobbed, holding his head in his hands. “I’m sorry!” Izuku wailed, “I’m sorry, Eri!”
“Izuchan,” Eri said, finally. She began to cry, mirroring the fat tears rolling down Deku’s face. Then, she sprinted the rest of the distance between them, and hugged him fiercely. She wailed, and Katsuki heart clenched. He’d never heard Eri cry before.
Izuku hugged her back, and rocked them both gently forward, making small soothing noises.
After a moment, the last of the tension seeped from Katsuki’s limbs. He scoffed, and put the spear away.
“Because she’s my daughter!” Izuku had said. Well tough-fucking luck, Katsuki thought, frowning under his helmet. Because she’s my daughter now, too.
Ah, well. Katsuki slanted his weight to one hip, folding his arms as Izuku continued to offer Eri a dozen mumbled apologies. The apologies mollified him, a bit. Eri hadn’t talked much about “before” but Katsuki had more or less figured out the tragedy that had led to her being hunted.
He should be sorry for failing his job so badly, Katsuki thought. But… It was nice too, to know that there was someone out there who had been looking for Eri. Who had cared about her.
Katsuki wished that Izuku hadn’t tried to fucking decapitate him about it, but eh. He probably would have done the same thing, in Izuku’s position.
He stayed quiet as Eri began to talk. His girl had never been much of a chatterbox, but she seemed to brighten under every moment of Izuku’s attention. Soon enough, she was telling him about all of their adventures. She told him about the Slimehorn, about the time they were trapped under the ice with giant spiders, about all the friends she’d made…
Finally, Katsuki couldn’t take it anymore.
“Yeah, yeah,” he groused, marching forward. He crouched down next to them both, and placed a gentle hand atop Eri’s head. “That’s enough out of you, Punk. You’re spilling clan secrets, you know?”
“Sorry!” Eri squeaked. She leaned sideways, tucking herself into Katsuki’s side, while also never removing her hand from Izuku’s grasp.
For a moment, they were all silent. Then Izuku looked up, inexplicably finding Katsuki’s eyes through his helmet. It was a trick passed down through the family, Katsuki thought, wryly.
“I’m sorry,” he said, never once looking away. “For attacking you. I should have realized sooner. Your spirit is very kind.”
“The fuck it is!” Katsuki denied, bristling. “Mandalorians ain’t kind! Right, Eri?”
“Right!” She chirped. “We’re mean, lean, fighting machines!”
“That’s right. Now. I adopted Eri,” Katsuki said, bluntly. “She’s a Mandalorian. I’m taking care of her.”
Sadness and relief bloomed simultaneously in Izuku’s eyes. “I…” he began, but Katsuki wasn’t going to let him finish.
He lifted Eri to place her onto his hip, and held his other hand out to Izuku. “Come on,” He said. Izuku stared at Katsuki’s hand as if he’d never seen one before.
“To where?” He asked.
Under his helmet, Katsuki rolled his eyes. “To get dinner, where do you think? Or would you rather sit out here and talk about Eri’s future in the fucking dirt?”
Izuku’s eyes glowed. He snapped his hand to Katsuki’s, and sprung to his feet. Then, he didn’t let go, instead clasping Katsuki’s hand to his chest. “I’d love to get dinner, Kacchan!” He said.
“Kah- What the fuck did you just call me?!”
Ignoring him, Izuku continued on, babbling. “It’s been so long since I’ve eaten something warm! Do you have a spare bed? I think I might faint soon, if I’m being honest! Wow, so you’re a Mandalorian, huh? You know I learned about you, and your planet Mandalore, while I was a youngling, and I always wanted to meet one of you! Your code of honor is so fascinating! And is it true that children hold the highest status of honor in your culture? That’s amazing! How do you enforce bedtime?”
“Stupid Deku!” Katsuki hissed. If he was getting a dumbfuck nickname, then so was this nerd! Though the Mando’a translation was probably lost on him. Katsuki finally managed to tug his hand from Deku’s, steadfastly ignoring the way his face was heating up. If no one could see you blush, then it technically hadn’t happened, right?
“One question at a time! And yes, younglings hold the highest status, but we obviously don’t tell them that, you idiot!” Katsuki covered Eri’s ears with his hands, ineffectually. It was too late. She knew she was the boss, now.
“Oh. Whoops! ‘Deku?’ Though? What is that… oh! That means ‘useless’ in Mando’a, doesn’t it? That’s clever! I read an old Mando’a dictionary once, but I’m probably pretty rusty… but I do remember some words and phrases.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, and began to march through the forest. Eri shifted, reaching out so that Deku could hold her hand, which he did.
“Wait, Kacchan.” Against his better judgment, Katsuki stopped, called to attention by the seriousness in Deku’s voice. With his free hand, Deku reached around, clasping the back of Katsuki’s helmet.
He moved slowly. Katsuki could have stopped him, but he didn’t. He let himself be pulled forward, until the forehead of his helmet rested against Deku’s. “I remember this,” Deku whispered. “Vor entye, Kacchan.” Thank you.
Well, fuck. Katsuki thought.
Katsuki let him keep the embrace for another moment, and then shoved him off. “Your accent sucks,” he said, and started walking again.
Deku just laughed. “Ah, I guess Kacchan will just have to teach me, then.”
Guess I will, he thought.
In his arms, Eri giggled. When Katsuki looked down, his daughter was looking up at him as if he’d hung the moon and stars. For her, he would, he thought. He’d put up with a shitty doe-eyed Jedi, too.
Well. That last one didn’t sound all bad.