Chapter Text
The scratching of pens against paper was the only sound that Mirai had heard for the last several hours as he worked through the morning to finish the invitations for His Majesty’s grand ball. On either side of him hovered pens, writing down the names of each individual noble and the members of their houses, alongside his own name as the king’s spokesperson. The invitations detailed the date, acceptable attire, and who the ball was being thrown for.
Mirai sighed wearily as he finished the last one, observing his calligraphy critically and deeming it acceptable. With a motion of his hand, the pens clattered to the desk as Mirai reached for a stamp with the symbol of the royal house, officially sealing each invitation before leaning back into his plush chair. Thank goodness for magic.
Lifting one, he couldn’t help but scowl at the thick paper as though it had personally offended him. He was against the idea of throwing a ball in the first place, as they needed to focus their efforts on the war, not on displays of grandeur. Especially when the one they were “celebrating” was All For One. But His Majesty had been insistent, and Mirai had been forced to relent. His nose wrinkled in distaste, he was almost tempted to shred through the invitations with his claws in spite of the long hours he had just spent making them.
Closing his eyes, Mirai placed the one he was holding back on the desk and forced himself to calm down, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. He repeated the process a few more times until he regained a firm hold over his emotions. It wasn’t easy though—what with the incident from a few days ago still fresh in his mind. It had been all he could think about, as of late. And who could fault him for it?
That wretched hunter had tried to kill His Majesty under the guise of training. But Mirai saw right through it. All For One had attempted to circumvent the orders and his inability to physically harm His Majesty by “showing off” a high level spell, one that had ended up putting a crater in the training room. Thankfully, His Majesty had gotten away unscathed and All For One had been caught in the blaze of his own magic.
And then, of course, His Majesty just had to cast the very same spell shortly after. In that moment, Mirai didn’t even think when he saw the formation of the fiery spear—he simply took hold of His Majesty and ran. The resulting explosion had shaken the foundations of the castle and reduced the training room to little more than a smoldering hole in the wall.
Hisashi, unfortunately, had managed to survive, narrowly escaping the blast radius. Mirai felt his lip curl in distaste. The man was like a cockroach. He just wouldn’t die. Then to try and excuse his actions as training when he taught Izuku that spell…No doubt that had been his back up plan in case his first attempt failed, knowing Izuku would want to try it out himself. And with His Majesty’s inability to fully control his incredible, innate abilities, the results would be devastating—had been devastating.
But unlike His Majesty, Mirai was not fooled.
Izuku, too young, too naive and trusting, was unable to see it for what it was, blinded by the desperate need to have a father figure. Mirai knew better. If only His Majesty would heed his warnings…
But no matter. Mirai would protect him regardless. Even from himself, if he had to. He would not allow further harm to come to the royal family, nor for King Toshinori’s death to have been in vain. And he had a new plan to achieve that. With any luck, Hisashi would be…taken care of…during the ball. With so many people at such a large event, it wouldn’t be hard to keep His Majesty distracted while others got rid of the current royal problem.
Gathering up the neatly stacked invitations and using magic to tie them up, Mirai carefully placed them within a messenger bag, ready to be delivered. Now he just had to actually find the deliverer. Usually Gran was around somewhere, poking his nose into other people’s business and being a rather large, sharp-tongued fly on the wall. But after the last meeting had concluded, the man had virtually disappeared. Leaving Mirai to actually have to go find him.
Typical.
Mirai had a few ideas where Gran might be lounging about, given he’d likely want to be unbothered after His Majesty decided to send him on a round trip across the country as his errand boy. The cafe in the city came to mind, as well as the wine cellar, or even the training grounds for new recruits. Gran loved watching and heckling the young soldiers on their forms and techniques, much to their terror.
Well. He supposed he would check the closest locations and go from there.
It was on his way to the wine cellar that a flash of light hair caught his eye, and Mirai felt his hackles rise, assuming Hisashi was lurking about. He spun on his heel and marched back down the fork in the corridors he had passed, entering into the hall of kings and queens of ages past. Portraits lined the walls, displaying the line of nobility from its inception all the way down to its previous ruler—his Majesty having yet to have his own made for the hall.
There was a tall, light-haired man at the other end of the hall. But it wasn’t Hisashi.
“Gran?” Mirai called out to the elder vampire, who didn’t so much as twitch at the sound of his name. He was standing between two of the portraits, his gaze distant and forlorn. “Gran?” Mirai repeated, more softly this time as he drew closer to the other man, nodding politely to the portraits he passed.
“What is it?” Gran spoke after a moment, with none of the usual cheer and snark in his voice.
“…The invitations are ready to be sent out,” Mirai informed him. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he answered, his tone sharper than Mirai expected it to be. He turned to Mirai, holding his hand out and regarding him with a hard look in his eyes. “Hand them over then. I want to get this over with quickly.”
Mirai hesitated, studying him. Despite his age, Gran always radiated an aura of good cheer and youthful mischief. But now, he appeared older than Mirai had ever seen him, face lined and weary. Mirai handed the letters over slowly. “Do you remember the plan?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gran grunted, taking a tight hold of the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Make sure to deliver it by hand and in person. Mention All For One by name to our target to gain his interest.”
“Yes.” Mirai nodded. “Please don’t forget. Otherwise he won’t come.”
Gran snorted. “Oh, I’m well aware of that. Haven’t seen the boy myself in years. Social recluse that one.”
“Good. Do you require anything else before you leave?” Mirai asked, looking the man over. He had his waterskin, fully stocked with a supply of blood, a pouch of coins, a cloak for when it was sunny, and his favorite pair of boots. “A meal before you go? Taiyaki perhaps?”
“Bah. I can grab that stuff out in the city.” Gran waved a hand. “No, I think I’ll head out right away. Faster I go, faster I’ll come back.”
“Very well,” Mirai relented. “I look forward to your return, then. Come find me when you do.”
“Will do,” Gran replied shortly before making his leave. Mirai blinked against a brush of wind, and when he opened his eyes again, Gran was already gone.
Sorahiko observed the encampment nestled at the border from the hill he sat atop, watching soldiers milling about ceaselessly in the dark of the night. Training, moving equipment, delivering reports, drinking and chatting. He leaned forward with narrowed eyes, an arm pressed against his knee as he observed the sea of faces.
Mirai had said their target was stationed in this section of the border, defended by a fort and high walls, but Sorahiko had yet to see hide nor hair of him. Within the fortress perhaps? But he wasn’t the type to stay cooped up in safety while others were fighting.
Sorahiko leaned forward more, squinting harder—not that it helped much.
A clawed hand dropped down on his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin.
“What are you doing here?” a voice asked.
It was only Sorahiko’s long lifespan that prevented him from startling, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the man he had been looking for. One who had found him first and managed to sneak up on him. An impressive feat.
“Searching for you, actually,” he answered, brushing the hand off his shoulder as he stood and turned to face the man. Tired, shadowed eyes framed by strands of lanky black hair and creased by a frown set in his face met Sorahiko’s own gaze. “I have news from the castle.”
“…What news? Am I being relocated?”
“Not exactly,” Sorahiko retorted as he dug a hand into the bag at his side and pried out one of the letters within, specifically addressed to the man in front of him. “Here, special delivery for you, Aizawa.”
Aizawa stared at the letter as if Sorahiko was trying to hand him a venomous snake. He gingerly reached out and plucked it from Sorahiko’s fingers, face twisted with distaste. “The royal seal? ...Why are you giving me this?” he demanded dryly, the irritation clear in his tone.
“It involves your duties as a member of a greater noble house. You’ll get to take a break from the war and attend the king’s ball. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Sorahiko’s voice was sarcastic even to his own ears.
“I don’t want to attend a ball,” Aizawa sneered.
“King’s orders I’m afraid.” Sorahiko shrugged, rolling his right shoulder.
“What? Why? We have a war happening. What could the young king possibly want to throw a ball for?”
“Celebrating the adoption of his new father, of course,” Sorahiko said, as though it were painfully obvious. It wasn’t, given the look of confusion he received, Aizawa staring at him as though Sorahiko had told him the sky wasn’t blue. “It’s a very special event. Izuku wants everyone there.”
Aizawa’s left eye started twitching. “I’m sure His Majesty will understand if I can’t attend.”
“Ah, that’s a shame.” Sorahiko sighed in mock disappointment, shaking his head, eyes softening a tad. “I thought you might be interested in avenging your friend.”
“…What?”
“That’s what you’ve been working so hard out here for, isn’t it?” Sorahiko asked, knowing he had caught the man’s attention with the way his eyes heated. “You want the chance to meet him? To take your revenge?”
“Your point?” Aizawa snapped.
“You’ll find it might be closer than you think.” Sorahiko inclined his head down to the letter. “Read it.”
Aizawa glared suspiciously at him before using a claw to open the envelope, tearing free the letter contained within. Tired eyes scanned it over intently. Sorahiko watched those eyes widen as Aizawa read the letter, and the special note Mirai had left for him.
Those black eyes flashed into a brilliant red as they snapped back to Sorahiko, Aizawa’s jaw squared and teeth clenched. “Is this a joke?!” he hissed angrily, the paper crumpling in his hand.
“Do I look like the type of person who would come all the way out here to deliver a joke letter?” At Aizawa’s flat stare, Sorahiko sighed. “Don’t answer that.”
“WHY?!” Aizawa’s voice wasn’t a shout, but it was the loudest Sorahiko had ever heard it get. “Why him? How could His Majesty do this?!”
“It’s complicated,” Sorahiko said, not wanting to get into everything. “Izuku figured by adopting All For One, it would remove the man from the war as an enemy. And technically it has.”
“Why keep him alive?! After all he’s done?! Why not just kill him if His Majesty wanted to remove him as an obstacle for us?”
“He wanted a strong father,” Sorahiko answered simply, “and All For One was the strongest hunter in the Kingdom of Yuei. Two birds, one stone.”
Aizawa’s nostrils flared as he breathed heavily, rage clear on his features. “…I can’t accept that,” he hissed. “I can’t accept his continued existence.”
“Mirai and I share the same sentiment,” Sorahiko continued on. “But neither of us can make a move against All For One openly. Not without Izuku catching wind of it. That’s why Mirai left you that note in your invitation. If you are of like-mindedness, we can work together. We will help provide the distraction, and you will do the dirty work.”
Aizawa took a moment to consider the offer, gaze flickering back to the paper he held in his hand, now riddled with wrinkles and holes from his claws. When his eyes hardened and his grip tightened, Sorahiko knew he had won him over.
“...Fine. If it means getting rid of him,” Aizawa seethed.
“Excellent!” Sorahiko exclaimed with a dangerous grin, clasping a hand to Aizawa’s shoulder, claws cutting into the fabric of his clothes. “And remember—this is strictly between us three.”
“What about Yamada?” Aizawa asked quietly. “He’d want in on it too if he knew.”
“Hm,” Sorahiko hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. But he’s not to know of our involvement. He’s a blabber mouth from what I recall.”
Aizawa nodded. “I can agree to that.”
“Good.” Sorahiko’s eyes raked over Aizawa’s ragged, dirtied clothes. “Though I hope you clean up as well as you fight. Mirai won’t be pleased if you arrive looking like a beggar.”
Aizawa snorted contemptuously, stuffing the invitation into his pocket as he walked off into the night, silently fuming.
Izuku glanced up at his dad, who looked as though his eyes were swirling. “So? What kind of fabric?” Izuku was holding up a variety of cloths the tailor offered, letting Hisashi inspect each one.
“Something more durable than these,” Hisashi muttered, mouth twisting in a frown. “They would tear the first time I wore them.”
“They’re special clothes, Dad!” Izuku explained, again. “You’re only wearing them for formal events, not everyday. They don’t have to be super durable. And these fabrics won’t tear that easily unless you purposefully try to rip them.”
Hisashi tilted his head back, releasing a great sigh before pointing to one. “That one I guess. It’s not too soft.”
“…Do you actually like it, or are you just randomly picking to get it over with?” Izuku asked, leveling Hisashi with a flat stare.
“Trying to get this over with,” Hisashi mumbled, resting his cheek on a hand, elbow propped up on the table. “I don’t know why you brought me here. I don’t know anything about frilly clothes or fashion. Useless stuff if you ask me.”
Izuku sighed. The whole point of bringing his father here was to make sure he had a say in what he wore and enjoy his outfit for the ball. As usual, Hisashi wasn’t making things easy. “Don’t you want to like what you’re going to wear?”
“What’s the point if I’m only going to wear it one time?”
“You might wear it again for another event!”
“Would I really? Or would you have more new clothes commissioned for it?” Hisashi accused.
Izuku glanced back at the fabrics strewn about on the table in consideration before concluding with, “Both! That way you have options.”
“Mmhmm,” Hisashi hummed in disbelief.
Izuku ignored it. “Okay! Well. We have a fabric. Now we can pick out patterns!”
Hisashi groaned loudly and smacked his head down on the table. “Can’t it be something simple?” he pleaded, not bothering to lift his head from the wood. “I don’t want to wear anything fancy. Or with ruffles. Or poofy.”
“But this is your grand entrance!” Izuku insisted. “You need to look your best! Make a good impression!”
“No ruffles or frills,” Hisashi stated firmly, glaring at Izuku as if daring him to say something. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”
“But I also don’t want you to be boring!”
“Rude!” Hisashi huffed into the table, but Izuku could see the corners of his lips were tugging upwards.
“Fine,” Izuku sighed. “No ruffles or frills.”
“Or poofy sleeves,” Hisashi added.
“Or poofy sleeves.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, but what about the colour? Do you have a preference?” Izuku persisted.
“Black,” Hisashi answered immediately. “Everything goes with black.”
“But you could be so colourful!”
“No!”
Izuku huffed. “You’re being difficult again.”
Hisashi looked up at him. “You’re being difficult,” he shot back.
“You’re both being difficult,” the tailor butt in, rolling his one visible eye and taking the fabrics from Izuku, placing them down. “Now, as for the style?” He brought over a well-worn journal and dropped it on the table before the both of them. “I have some ideas, if you care to hear them?”
“Please,” Hisashi agreed, gesturing for him to continue as he leaned back in his chair.
The tailor flipped the book open, leafing through the pages. “I keep my designs in here. And I have a few I think you may be partial to. I would, of course, alter them to be personalized to you, but you can get an idea of the look you want from the drawings.”
“Hm…” Izuku heard his dad hum as he flipped through the pages of the book. He made faces at several of them, wrinkling his nose in distaste, or rolling his eyes at others. Eventually though, he seemed to have found something he liked when he paused, consideration in his eyes. “...This one isn’t too bad,” he admitted, tapping the page and sliding it over to show the tailor.
“I see,” the tailor said, taking in the sketch. “Simple, but tasteful.”
“Let me see!” Izuku leaned in eagerly. “Oh! It’s nice. It doesn’t stand out all that much though…”
“If I may, Your Majesty,” the tailor said. “I believe this design will stand out once on him. It’s elegant, and I will tailor it to fit his form perfectly. He will make a striking figure, I assure you.”
“Alright then.” Izuku nodded, conceding. “Can you place the family crest on it as well?”
“Of course.” The royal tailor nodded back, then studied Hisashi critically for a moment. “I think silver coloured detailing would be best, considering the undertone of your skin…Mm. Yes, yes. I can already see it.”
“...Are you sure this guy isn’t crazy?” Hisashi muttered to Izuku, keeping a wary eye on the tailor.
Izuku sniffed. “Hakamata is the best royal tailor our house has seen in centuries. Trust me, he can perform miracles. His magic is incredibly well-suited to his profession.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Hisashi spoke disbelievingly.
“Yes, yes. You will look lovely during the dance!” Hakamata said enthusiastically.
“Y-Yeah,” Hisashi mumbled, looking away now, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
“Mhm!” Izuku bounced on his heels in excitement. “You get to dance with me, Dad! No need to be nervous!”
“I’m not nervous,” Hisashi denied nervously.
Izuku paused and looked him over. A thought occurred to him then. “Have you ever danced before?”
He watched Hisashi sink in on himself, a blush creeping into his cheeks as he refused to make eye contact with Izuku. “…‘Course. All the time.”
Izuku placed his hands on the table and leaned in, face to face with his dad. “Really?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “If I ask you again, would you still say that?”
Hisashi slid down in his chair, looking like he wanted to hide under the table. His dad said nothing.
“That settles it then!” Izuku exclaimed with an excited chirp. “We’re going to have dancing lessons, starting now!”
“Nooo,” Hisashi groaned miserably, sliding even further down, his white curls nearly disappearing under the table's edge.
Izuku grabbed him by the shoulders before he could fall out of his chair, easily pulling his dad back up to sit properly at the table. He smiled eagerly at the man. Another opportunity for father-son bonding had just opened up! This was excellent!
“It’ll be fun!” Izuku assured him. “I know all the steps!”
“I don’t want to!” Hisashi protested.
“Would you rather make a fool of yourself at the ball?” Izuku pointed out.
“...” was Hisashi’s answer, who then buried his face in his hands with a long-suffering groan. “...I want to train afterwards.”
Izuku clapped his hands. “Okay! We’ll practice dancing right after we finish up here. Then we can train. Though, er. We’ll have to do so outside for now since the training room is…still under construction considering what happened last time.”
“You mean you happened last time.”
“I was only copying you!” Izuku insisted.
“I didn’t ask you to!”
“Anyway!” Izuku brushed aside Hisashi’s accusation, turning to Hakamata, impatience rolling off of him. “Are you almost done? We need to go soon!”
Hakamata, who had been tidying up the fabrics he had set out on display, sniffed. “Unless Your Majesty has another request? Yes, we are done. You can leave the rest in my capable hands.”
“Good!” Izuku buzzed with enthusiasm as he turned back to his father. “C’mon, let’s go, Dad!”
Hisashi stood and stretched, and Izuku heard Hakamata gasp from behind him. “Ack! What have you done? Look at that loose thread!”
“What?” Hisashi stared down at himself in bewilderment.
“Right there!” Hakamata pointed at the hem of his shirt, glowering at the man. “I must insist you allow me to fix that before you leave.”
“How?”
“Hakamata’s magic is amazing!” Izuku told him. “Go ahead, please!” He gestured to the royal tailor, granting permission.
“Wait, what—” Hisashi went to protest, but they could both already feel the gathering of magic in the air as Hakamata curled his fingers, like a puppet master pulling on strings. Izuku watched as his dad gave a start when something tickled against his skin, glancing down to see the loose threads Hakamata had been complaining about moving. The frayed end tucked back into place, as if it had never been torn loose to begin with.
“Woah!” Hisashi’s eyes widened. “You can manipulate fabric? Incredible!”
“Yes, indeed,” Hakamata hummed, but he was still frowning, a hand over his mouth as he tutted.
“What are your limits?” Hisashi wondered. “How much can you handle at one time? What can you do with it?”
“Some fabrics are easier to manipulate than others,” Hakamata explained as he leaned in closer than his dad would clearly like, staring intensely at his shirt. “As for how much, allow me to demonstrate for you. I need to fix this properly.”
Izuku watched on as Hisashi’s shirt began to completely unravel from both the sleeves and the hem, threads flying into the air.
“Wait, wait, what are you doing?! Stop!” Hisashi demanded as he grasped at the withering strands of his clothes, attempting to keep them from slipping away into tiny threads.
But the shirt was gone before he could solidly grab it, and Izuku snickered at his horrified expression.
Hakamata simply paused, unravelled fabric floating about him as he eyed Hisashi with a hand rubbing his chin. “Hmm. Those need an adjustment too…”
Hisashi frowned, arms clutched over his chest. “What are you—?” More strands of thread began to fly through the air. “STOP!” came the desperate cry, the fabric stripping apart before his very eyes.
Izuku began to laugh.
“Ok! I get it! I get—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Those are my PANTS!”
“And the smallclothes as well. I can make you a much more comfortable pair. Just give me a moment. Oh, I’m so glad you brought him in to see me, Your Majesty. I need to fix these immediately.”
Tears blurred Izuku’s eyes as he doubled over, wheezing cackles escaping him as his dad screeched in scandalized outrage.
“DON’T YOU DARE! YOU LEAVE MY UNDERWEAR ALONE YOU—”
“It’ll just take a moment,” came the assurance as Hakamata observed them thoughtfully. “Really, you won’t even notice!”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WON’T NOTICE?! I’M BEING STRIPPED NAKED! STOP IT!”
“The sooner he gets it over with, the sooner you can have your clothes back, Dad!” Came Izuku’s cracking voice as he struggled to breathe over his laughter.
“Why are you letting him do this?!” Hisashi screamed in betrayal.
“Oh, you’re fine!” Izuku insisted. “It’s not the end of the world!”
“It’s the end of my dignity!” Hisashi cried. “I—NO! I SAID STOP!” He wailed as the last bit of threads began to pull themselves away from him, quickly grasping onto a seat cushion from a nearby chair and covering himself. Hisashi’s face was completely red now, fangs bared and form trembling as he glared at Hakamata. “I will never forgive you for this. When I get my hands on you—!”
“You’re so dramatic, Dad.” Izuku shook his head. “You act like being naked in front of others is the worst thing that could happen to you.”
“And you act way too blasé about it!” Hisashi accused. “This isn’t normal!”
Izuku rolled his eyes. “Yes, it is!”
“In what world could this possibly be considered normal?!”
“You’ve chased away all the servants who try to help you, but they’re supposed to assist you with dressing and bathing and everything. Nobody cares about your nakedness in these situations. You’re the only one making it abnormal!”
“Shut up!” his dad snapped, throwing the pillow into Izuku’s face.
Izuku caught it before it could fall to the floor, his sides aching at the look of absolute mortification that crossed Hisashi’s face when he realized what he’d done. The man covered himself as best as he could, reaching out to swipe the pillow back. Izuku merely stepped out of reach, grinning ear to ear.
“Give it back!” Hisashi demanded desperately.
“No!” Izuku denied with cheer, dangling the pillow tauntingly. “You just have to get used to stuff like this. You’re a part of the royal family now.”
“You little—!”
Really, his dad was so difficult. But sometimes it was hilarious.
Hisashi vehemently refused to even so much as look Izuku’s way as the boy led him off to another section of the castle, his cheeks still burning from the humiliation he had just endured. He had his clothes back—thank goodnesss—but he would never live that moment down, what with it having been permanently seared into his brain.
At least Gran hadn’t been there to see it.
There was a tug on his sleeve, but Hisashi didn’t acknowledge it. He heard a soft sigh as he focused solely ahead of him.
“Aw, c’mon, Dad. It wasn’t that bad!” Izuku tried to console him. “He fixed your clothes as good as new!”
Maybe so, but they had both ignored Hisashi’s requests for them to stop, and despite them not finding the situation embarrassing, he had still felt uncomfortably exposed. He didn’t care if it was supposedly normal for high-class individuals to have servants dress them or bathe them or any of that. The disregard to his privacy despite his pleading for it burned.
Izuku had laughed at him.
“...I’m giving you your sword and vambraces back after we’re done with the lessons,” the boy put in after a moment. “You can even train with them if you’d like! Will that make you happy?”
“...You will never allow something like that to happen again,” Hisashi answered in a hiss through his teeth. “Otherwise I’m flinging myself off the nearest tower.”
“Don’t you dare!” Izuku frowned. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Then don’t let it happen again,” Hisashi warned. “Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to you, but it was to me.”
“I was just—”
“I don’t know who taught you manners, but clearly they didn’t teach you to have consideration for others!”
Izuku looked upset. “But I do! I just don’t understand why this was a big deal for you!”
“Then try to look at it from my perspective!” he snapped irritably. “Normal people don’t have servants dress or bathe them, or whatever else it is you nobles do! Maybe you grew up with that, and you’re used to it, but I’m not! Even if you can’t understand it yourself, you should still at least respect how I feel about it!”
“Oh,” Izuku said quietly, at least having the decency to look a little ashamed as he glanced away from Hisashi’s scorching gaze. “I thought you were just. Surprised. And being dramatic. I didn’t think it actually bothered you that much.”
Hisashi huffed, looking down at his newly repaired shirt, fiddling with one sleeve. “…You laughed at me,” he mumbled quietly.
“I…I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Izuku peeked up at him, guilt flashing in his eyes.
Hisashi’s shoulders hunched. “You claimed it was normal, then proceeded to laugh like it was a spectacle.”
“You were just…it…” the boy tried to say, but words failed him and he bit his lip. “...It won’t happen again. I promise,” he settled on.
Hisashi just shrugged. He wasn’t sure if he trusted that. “Whatever.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, save for the sound of their footsteps echoing through the halls. Before long, Hisashi found himself being brought into another room. It wasn’t the largest he’d seen, but it wasn’t the smallest either. The floor was made of polished wood, and there was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, as well as large, curtained windows that were allowing slivers of the evening light to filter in.
“This will be a good place to practice,” Izuku said quietly after letting Hisashi’s hand drop, glancing up at him with worry. “Do you still want to?”
No, he really didn’t. But he felt like if he declined, then they wouldn’t train either. And if they didn’t train, he wouldn’t get some of his stuff back. He grunted, murmuring, “Let’s get it over with.”
Izuku didn’t say anything at first as he stepped in front of Hisashi, shuffling awkwardly. “Okay, grab my one hand like this,” Izuku began to explain, reaching up to grasp Hisashi’s hand. Hisashi furrowed his brow and frowned, but obliged. “Now, place your other hand on my back.”
“Excuse me?” Hisashi asked dryly.
“It’s part of the dance,” Izuku huffed. “You’ll be expected to do the waltz with a few ladies at the ball, so at least try.”
“I don’t think anyone is going to want to dance with me,” Hisashi muttered, but he placed his hand awkwardly on Izuku’s back.
“Okay, forward left,” Izuku went on, moving his left foot up and expecting Hisashi to do the same.
Hisashi shuffled to match, moving with the boy, trying to follow his steps. Though it was more difficult than Hisashi would have liked.
“Just…follow my lead,” Izuku insisted after Hiashi managed to step on his toes by mistake.
Hisashi worked to keep up as Izuku led him through the steps, feeling clumsy. “…I don’t think this is working,” he said.
“We just started!” Izuku rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, but it feels weird! I’m way too tall for you to practice with.”
“No, you aren’t. I’m used to dancing with taller people! When I was little, I was taught by my—” Izuku cut himself off, his face looking pinched. Before Hisashi could question it, however, the boy continued, “But I could go get Mirai if you prefer.”
“I’m good!” he relented quickly. It was bad enough to learn how to dance with Izuku, but Mirai? Especially after he already claimed he knew how? The man’s smug face would be unbearable. Even Gran would be better, and Gran was just as insufferable. “Alright, how does this go again?”
“Here.” Izuku led him through the steps a few more times, their speed picking up with each round as Hisashi gained confidence in the moves. “Although, at the end of this one,” Izuku explained after they finished another step, “you would twirl your partner.”
“You aren’t twirling me,” Hisashi told him flatly.
“Then you can spin me!”
The boy seemed weirdly excited about it, and Hisashi sighed but lifted his arm, letting Izuku spin happily. A giggle left the boy, a smile pulling at his mouth. “Very good!” Izuku praised after he came to a stop. “See? You can do this!”
“Uh-huh,” Hisashi grumbled as Izuku led him through the steps once more, practicing again and again until their movements were fluid. “How long are we supposed to do this?”
“Until you’ve got it down pat! We can practice more on other days before the ball too. There are other dances that will happen; traditional vampire dances.”
“You never said anything about other dances!”
“Well, as etiquette dictates, you’re only required to do the first few dances, and then you won’t have to keep dancing. But I think you might want to learn a few more!”
“How long is this ball supposed to go on anyway? Am I expected to stay all night?”
Izuku shrugged. “They can last for hours.”
Great, Hisashi thought, suppressing a groan. That was more than enough time to make a fool of himself in front of the vampiric nobility.
“But you don’t have to stay for the whole thing, just the main parts. They usually last such a long time because people like to party. It’s an excuse for everyone to let loose,” Izuku explained.
“I want a large bottle of wine waiting in my room for when I get back,” Hisashi demanded. There was no way he was going to get through the ball without some alcohol in his system.
“Okay!” Izuku agreed easily. “Now, let’s do a few more rounds and we can be done for the day. And then next time we can practice other dances. Ones where you have more complicated moves like this.”
Hisashi did not expect the sudden hands on his hips that lifted him and spun him through the air.
“Put me down!” he yelled indignantly, grasping at the boy’s hands and trying to yank them away.
Izuku was giggling again. “But isn’t it fun to fly through the air?”
“No! It’s weird!” Hisashi protested. “I’m a grown man!”
Izuku scoffed but set him back on his feet, smiling brightly. “Well, I’m not!” he announced. “My turn!” He lifted his hands expectantly.
Hisashi gave him a venomous glare, but Izuku only continued to stare at him with big, bright eyes, looking hopeful. Hisashi’s shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh left him, and he reached down to pick the boy up.
Izuku cheered as Hisashi twirled him through the air. “Faster!” the boy demanded.
Hisashi spun them in a circle faster.
“Faster!”
Hisashi spun even faster.
“FASTER!”
He was feeling dizzy, but his feet moved faster, spinning in place on his heel.
Izuku whooped.
Hisashi lost his footing.
They both tumbled to the floor with a yelp.
“Oof!” Izuku groaned as he rolled to a stop. Then he was laughing, sitting up with a grin that threatened to split his face in two. “That was so much fun! Again?”
Children had such strange ideas of fun. The ceiling spun above Hisashi as he lay on his back. “Later,” he muttered, trying to regain his thoughts as they jumbled around in his head. After a moment, he sat up, a hand to his head. Maybe training should wait until tomorrow. He glanced at the still giggling boy. “...Didn’t you say I could have my stuff back?”
Izuku was not listening. “Hey! Check this out!”
Hisashi watched as the boy removed his shoes, running on the polished wooden floor with socked feet and sliding halfway down.
“You’re going to get hurt doing that,” he warned, raising a brow at Izuku.
Izuku just laughed, sliding around happily before he skidded towards Hisashi. “Boop!” He tapped Hisashi’s nose with a finger, and a jolt of static electricity shocked him.
“Ow! Why you…” Hisashi grumped, a hand flying to cover his face as he narrowed his eyes at Izuku.
“Can’t catch me!” Izuku cried out as he zoomed away before Hisashi’s arms could snatch him.
Hisashi rolled to his feet, chasing after the boy. He had an advantage with the traction his shoes gave him, but Izuku’s slippery, socked feet allowed him to keep dodging Hisashi at the last second.
“Almost!” he would taunt. “So close!” the next time. Izuku’s cheerful, boyish laughter rang through the room, and Hisashi tried his best not to let it infect him.
It was hard though.
But finally, he found success. “Got you!” Hisashi exclaimed triumphantly when he grabbed hold of the boy, arms wrapping around his waist and yanking him off the floor. Izuku only laughed even more, little hands grasping onto Hisashi’s forearms as he was pulled up. He glanced back at Hisashi, giving him the brightest, most dazzling smile Hisashi had ever seen.
He would deny how his own lips quirked upward at the corners of his mouth until the day he died.
“Come on, you little scamp,” Hisashi said. “You have something of mine.”
“Aww, but we were having so much fun…” Izuku pouted, crossing his arms in Hisashi’s hold. “Can we play a little longer? Please?”
There was a strange note of desperation underlining the boy’s tone. Hisashi didn’t understand it. “Tomorrow, maybe. If you’re good.”
Izuku kicked his legs happily. “I’ll be the best!” he declared.
“Then you can start by doing what you promised. Remember what I said about promises?”
Izuku nodded sagely, the super-serious look endearing on a face that was still chubby with baby-fat. “We can go get your stuff! You can even have one of your enchanted rings back too!”
“Hey, hey!” Hisashi teased. “Now who said I could be bribed?”
Izuku’s eyes widened impossibly. “It’s not a bribe,” he said—far too innocently to be believed. “You can even train with them as long as we put some rules in place.”
“What kind of rules?” Hisashi asked suspiciously.
“Just. Basic stuff. So no one gets hurt! Not much different from what’s already in place.”
Hisashi just hummed and headed for the door, but Izuku’s wiggle both stopped him and reminded him that he was still carrying the boy.
“My shoes,” Izuku said, pointing to where his shoes lay off to the side of the room.
“Oh.” Hisashi looked back at where they lay. He didn’t want to have to walk all the way back, so instead he shifted Izuku to one arm and raised a hand, feeling the thrum of magic in his fingers before releasing the minor spell. The shoes lifted in place, before drifting towards them.
And continued picking up speed as they went.
Hisashi had to step out of the way as they shot directly towards them like an arrow, smacking against the wall loudly before they finally came to a stop. Both he and Izuku were silent for a long minute, just staring at the shoes. Then Izuku twisted in his arms to look back up at him with a flat stare.
“What?” Hisashi asked defensively. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!”
“...You really need to practice with your magic more, Dad.”
“I don’t know why it’s doing this!” Hisashi insisted. “I have excellent control of my magic! This has never happened before.”
“It’s probably because you’re a vampire now!”
Hisashi groaned. “Oh, of course that would change my magic too!”
“It’s just stronger than it was before, that’s all!” Izuku insisted. “And…maybe you should change your magical affinities a little…”
“There’s nothing wrong with my magical affinities!” Hisashi denied. “They don’t need to change. I just…need to get used to this.”
For whatever reason, Izuku beamed.
Hisashi didn’t appreciate just how joyful that smile was. “What?” he asked again.
“Don’t worry!” the boy began, twisting further in his arms to suddenly throw his own around Hisashi and squeeze him in a tight, nearly bone-breaking hug. “I’ll help you, okay? It’s a little late to be training now, but I can get my trainers to pitch in too next time!”
Hisashi sniffed in offence. “I don’t need trainers. I’m already very skilled, thank you. I can figure it out on my own.”
“You mean you can blow up another training room?”
“YOU did that.” Hisashi ruffled the boy’s hair aggressively as Izuku squeaked in protest.
“Okay, well. My shoes are a lost cause. You’re going to have to carry me out. Since you’re so good at holding things and all,” Izuku informed him.
“Really?” Hisashi scoffed, rolling his eyes. When was the boy going to let that go? “They’re perfectly undamaged. We can just pick them up.”
“Lost cause!” Izuku repeated louder. “And I’ll have a glass brought up to drink!”
“Is it the same…‘flavour’ as before?” Hisashi asked. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was getting used to drinking the blood Izuku brought him. He wanted to try something that tasted different.
Hisashi wandered over to pick up Izuku’s shoes. Obligingly, he didn’t set the boy down, carrying him out of the room despite not understanding why he was choosing to humour the boy.
Izuku tilted his head curiously at him. “Did you want to try a different kind?”
Hisashi didn’t really want to say it outright so instead he grunted. “...What was it Gran had? It tasted strange compared to the other stuff.”
“Dunno!” Izuku shrugged. “But Gran has his own little supply section in the store room. We can snatch one of his bottles if you want to have some of it.”
Hisashi snorted a chuckle. “Sure! Let’s blame it on Mirai too.”
“Perfect!” Izuku laughed as he was carried along. He waved at the first servant they saw when they wandered into the hall, causing the servant to stop in place immediately, bowing before Izuku and Hisashi. “Bring a bottle of Gran’s stash into the royal chambers. And make sure it’s chilled!”
The servant didn’t even question it, nodding before scurrying off to do as requested.
“Now to get your stuff.” Izuku hummed. “The artifacts room is to the right. Go straight for a bit and then take a left.”
Hisashi nodded, hiking Izuku further up in his arms and quickening his pace, eager to get some of his possessions back in his hands. The (now familiar) doors of the artifacts room soon came into sight after several minutes of walking, repaired from the damage that had been incurred upon them from back when he had…upset Izuku.
“You stay here,” Izuku spoke up, wiggling himself free of Hisashi’s grip and landing on the (scorch free) floor with socked feet. “I’ll be right back!”
That was fine with Hisashi. Despite how he longed to see the room’s contents again and examine all it had to offer, he still shuddered minutely as he recalled the incident of last time. He had no desire to remind Izuku of it. “Wait,” he called out before Izuku could disappear into the room, causing the boy to turn and look back at him. “There’s something…specific I want.”
The boy’s brow furrowed slightly, regarding him with a bit of suspicion. Hisashi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Thankfully, Izuku didn’t outright deny his request, asking, “What is it?”
“An enchanted pendant,” Hisashi informed him. “It’s a chain strap attached to a basic, metal oval with a clasp on the side. It’s of simple make, so it’ll stand out from the rest of my collection.”
“It’s not dangerous is it?” Izuku pressed, to which Hisashi shook his head.
“No,” he answered, “it’s just a pendant.”
“Hm…alright,” Izuku conceded after a second, giving a nod. “Just a moment then.”
With that, Hisashi watched as the boy disappeared behind the doors. He stood there, anxiously waiting and awkwardly locking eyes with the guards now and then as the boy took his time within. What only took a few minutes felt like it had stretched on for hours when Izuku opened the doors again. Hisashi withheld a snicker when he saw that the boy had slipped the vambraces on, his arms far too small to wear them properly. In one hand he held Hisashi’s sword, effortlessly carrying its weight. In the other, he held the pendant Hisashi had asked for.
Hisashi tried not to look too eager as Izuku approached him. He could feel his hands twitching to touch his stuff again, but waited patiently until the boy was in front of him offering up the sword.
“You can touch your belongings again,” Izuku said, a surge rushing through Hisashi as the previous order was lifted. “And you can train and spar with them. But you can’t seriously injure or kill anyone with them!”
Hisashi nodded in understanding. Izuku watched him carefully, holding the sword up higher for him to take. Instead, Hisashi reached for the pendant, filled with worry. He knew it was likely still safe, but who knows who had been rummaging through and touching all of his stuff? He had to make sure it was still there. Izuku seemed surprised when Hisashi ignored the sword for the necklace, turning it over in his hands, thankfully finding no signs of tampering.
Cupping his hands as best he could to hide the necklace from view, he flicked the clasp on the side of the large pendant open, and he couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him upon seeing his most precious possession still safe and intact inside. He brushed one finger gently over the crude, wooden carving, feeling something settle in his chest.
“...Thank you,” Hisashi said after a moment, tucking the carving and its leather strap back into the pendant and clicking it shut once more, ensuring it was properly locked before placing the metal chain over his neck and tucking it under his shirt.
“What is it?” Izuku asked curiously, tilting his head a little.
“Something personal,” Hisashi answered vaguely, placing a hand on the boy's head and ruffling his hair. Protests met his ears, Izuku waving him off with a little huff. “Do you think the blood will have been brought to the room yet?” Hisashi asked, making a show of licking his lips and touching his throat. “I’m a little thirsty…”
Izuku looked delighted at his admission. “I’m sure it will be there by the time we head up!” He held out Hisashi’s sword once more. “Did you still want this?”
“Of course.” Hisashi snorted a laugh, reaching out to take it. He strapped the scabbard to his hips with a smile, the familiar weight of his blade lifting his spirits as he wrapped his hand around the grip, its grooves as familiar to him as his own fingerprints.
“Can I wear the vambraces until we get to the room?” Izuku looked up with big, bright green eyes, impossibly wide and glimmering. “They’re cool!”
“I think they’re a little big for you,” Hisashi commented wryly, raising a brow at him.
“They’re still on!” Izuku insisted, pumping his fist upwards.
Hisashi watched the vambrace slide down the boy’s arm to settle around his bicep.
“Okay, maybe they are,” Izuku admitted, pink tinging his cheeks. “But I can grow into them!”
“In what? Two hundred years?”
Izuku crossed his arms and pouted, cheeks puffing out indignantly. Hisashi chuckled quietly at the childish display, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. As long as you give them back to me once we’re back in my room.”
Izuku beamed at him. “Of course!” he exclaimed excitedly. A small hand reached for Hisashi before Izuku hesitated, drawing it back to his side with a contemplative expression.
Hisashi eyed him but made no comment, one of his hands still firmly on the pommel of his sword where it usually rested. His other hand was free, but he had conflicted feelings about all of it. He was glad, at least, that Izuku actually seemed to be considering Hisashi and not just himself for once.
The trek towards the wing of the castle where his quarters resided felt shorter than it typically did. Maybe due to the excitement of having his stuff back. Or maybe it was just becoming routine to Hisashi as he gradually mapped the layouts and routes leading to his room. Either way, before long they were at his door, Hisashi opening it and letting Izuku in first. His bed was freshly made and the room spotless. On the table sat a bottle, magically chilled if the frost and gentle whisps of vapor flowing off it were any indication, with two small glasses on either side of it.
“See?” Izuku chimed. “I told you it would be here by the time we got back!”
“So you did.” Hisashi smiled faintly as he closed the door behind him. Izuku began to take the vambraces off and hand them to Hisashi, looking only a little disappointed when Hisashi took them. He relished in the feel of them, slipping them on. They were a comforting weight that he had missed dearly, the gentle hum of the enchantment in the vambraces strumming through his fingers.
“So what do they do?” Izuku asked as he watched Hisashi strap them into place.
“Do?”
“They’re enchanted, aren’t they? I felt magic in them,” Izuku clarified.
“Ah, right.” Hisashi paused for a moment, considering how best to explain it. “It’s a simple but useful enchantment that strengthens my grip, allowing me to keep a better hold on my weapons so that they aren’t easily knocked out of my hands.”
A too pleased grin was slowly forming on Izuku’s face, his eyes dancing with mirth as he stared at Hisashi.
“What?” Hisashi asked somewhat defensively.
“So it’s a spell of holding then?” Izuku sounded delighted.
“No! That’s not…” Actually, it kind of was. Hisashi harrumphed and looked away.
Izuku clapped, giggling. “You really are the best at holding things, Dad! This proves it!”
Hisashi groaned. “Whatever. Can I have a drink now?”
“Ok! I’ll get the blood!” Izuku chirped as he turned, moving to the table. Hisashi tried to hide a smirk when Izuku had to stand on the chair in order to reach the bottle on the tall desk. Izuku poured its contents into the glasses, hopping down once finished. He took hold of both and walked back to Hisashi, who had moved to sit on the bed.
Hisashi accepted one of the glasses when it was offered, and snorted when Izuku reached out with his own glass to tap it against Hisashi’s. “Cheers!” Izuku said.
Taking a sip, Hisashi found it held that strange “spice” he had tasted once before from Gran’s waterskin. What it was he didn’t know, his nose wrinkling slightly at the taste. He wasn’t sure if it was good or not. Maybe it was an acquired taste? He’d drink it though, considering he had specifically asked for something different than what Izuku usually gave him.
The boy didn't seem to have any issues with the flavour, leisurely sipping from his glass and chattering on about…something. Hisashi wasn’t really listening, idly observing his equipment between sips.
“Dad?”
He looked up. “Hmm?”
“I um,” Izuku started, before his gaze fell to the floor and he cupped both hands around his glass nervously. His eyes flickered back up, meeting Hisashi’s own. There was an indent in his cheek from where he must be biting the inside of it. “I’m…I’m sorry. About earlier. For laughing at you.”
Hisashi tried not to allow his surprise to show on his face. He hadn’t expected the child to actually, properly apologize for anything. “…It’s fine,” he sighed.
“You’re not mad anymore?” Izuku asked worriedly.
Oh, Hisashi was still plenty upset about what had happened, but he wasn’t really angry about it. “No, I’m not mad,” he reassured Izuku.
Izuku was scrutinizing him closely. “You promise?”
“Why do you keep asking?”
“Well, it’s just—” Izuku shifted. “I mean. You still seem…unhappy.”
He was. Hisashi was still upset. But he didn’t want to have whatever heart-to-heart it seemed Izuku was trying to go for, and the boy seemed genuinely sorry, so he just took a sip of his blood and smiled softly. “I’m fine, Izuku. I’m not mad at you. I wasn’t happy you laughed at me, but I forgive you.”
The boy perked up at that. “Okay…Can I still have my hug and goodnight kiss then?” he asked hopefully.
Hisashi sighed but nodded. It was a part of their deal after all. He set his glass down on the night table and held out his arms to Izuku, who quickly flew into his embrace.
“Goodnight, Dad!” Izuku snuggled into his chest.
“Goodnight…Izuku.” Hisashi brushed back the boy’s curls and pressed a kiss to his forehead.