Chapter Text
Thousands of miles into the heart of an expansive desert, there is a village. Bordered by towering rock pillars and mesa formations, and surrounded by what contemporary scholars within the village will call a “barrier”, a “shield”, an “enchanted veil” - all agree on the premise, however, that the barrier or shield or enchanted veil has one explicit purpose: protection. Protection against outsiders of all kinds: bandits, wicked sorcerers, the unpredictable weather that often rages over the desert biome and beyond.
And of course there is the protected : the villagers, most of whom hold a unique magical affinity and a mark that bonds them to another, who manage to thrive in an isolated, tight-knit community with relative simplicity - a running water system, an evergreen supply of cashew and tamarind trees, mudbrick homes and buildings.
To leave such a place- or to enter it, even, is by all means possible. But in the beginning it was simply not allowed - some say it was a direct request from the village founder, a legendary sorcerer who lived long ago, and others say the original council elders had decided on it themselves. It doesn’t matter. This rule has not been in place for hundreds of years.
After all, if nothing can enter and nothing can leave, what is there to do when the water runs dry?
In the moments between drafting and redrafting how his newest contraption will fold in on itself, Izuku watches Katsuki practice on the slopes.
The minutes before he starts are when he looks the most different from the scowling, sneering boy Izuku knows- light brows furrowed together, face focused but calm. He adjusts his feet on his sandboard, settling into the straps that wire around his feet. Straightening his board, teetering on the edge to map out his position, dead quiet all the while.
It’s always a sight to see the moment he drops off.
It is no secret that Katsuki is one of the greatest sandboarders in their age group, bar none. First in his class to become certified to be an Adventurer, catching up to previously held records at alarming speeds. He glides down the sand slope like a drop of water in a stream, his form perfect and his board never pointing anywhere but directly north. The wind tousles his hair, brushes through the tassels of his muslin scarf, and none of it, for even a moment, distracts him. He’s too busy preparing himself.
The slope is small and not particularly steep, of course- it’s the one most junior Adventurers use for practice, a mere replica of the larger kinds only a few miles away. Which is why Izuku holds his breath when Katsuki, ten meters away from the plateaued end of the slope, crouches down, slightly tucks in his head, and jumps.
Perhaps a clear testament of his skill: without using his gift, with such little space to launch off of, Bakugou Katsuki curls in on himself, the tip of his board practically parallel to his face, and backflips through the air.
The sun shining on his bronzed skin and golden hair, the furrow of the sharp lines of his face, the shift of his clothes as he spins- nimble and quick, second in flip-speed only to Ashido or, in certain cases, Iida- he’s, frankly, incredible.
Izuku can do nothing but stare.
And before the doubt of whether or not he’ll make it can solidify in Izuku’s mind, Katsuki lands on his feet- his sandboard kicking up dust as he comes to a stop. He dusts off his spotless clothes and Izuku immediately snaps out of it and turns back to his notebook, as though he hadn’t been watching at all.
“What do you think?” he asks Nana, holding up his notebook to her and pointing to the wings on his new sketch. “Should they fold, or collapse?”
Nana who had previously been poking at a stray pebble in the earth with her foot, tilts her head.
“Because- look,” Izuku points to another diagram. “It’s easier to make them fold inwards, but that means that these supports might be more unstable in harsher weather, see? Collapsing it into a backpack-like shape would be more efficient, but harder to do, and I’d have to re-measure-”
She snorts, brushing her muzzle against his head. Izuku pouts at her, readjusting his hair, before sighing. “Thank you for your input, Nana. I'll keep that in mi–”
“If you've lost it already,” a scarily familiar voice snaps, “I’m leaving you here.”
Izuku jumps. “Oh- Kacchan!”
Katsuki looms over him, brows furrowed and mouth set in a permanent semi-scowl, is the more personal side of Bakugou Katsuki, great Adventurer and master sandboarder, that everyone in the village has become accustomed to. Foul mouthed and arrogant, loud and vulgar and rowdy.
Since becoming an Adventurer, though, it's undeniable that he’s cooled down in comparison to his adolescence. He's more reserved, less quick to anger, more prone to planning and strategy.
“You gonna get your ass in gear, or are you too busy chit chatting with All Might’s holy llama?”
But of course, he is still Kacchan, and there are some days where these subtle, persistent changes are barely noticeable at all.
“Her name's Nana,” Izuku corrects. Then he flushes. “A-And I wasn't talking to her, I was just- reading over my notes. No desert fever, I promise.”
“Sure, loser. What's that?”
He points to the satchel lying by Izuku's side- made of thick layers of flax-born fabric, and filled out entirely by its contents. Izuku had packed all of his best working inventions - a visor-hat for the dust storms Shoto had warned him about, a special canteen to keep water cool, some salves, and mucus clearing protective balms, and, of course, his prototype. It’s tightly sealed, but all Izuku can think of is how easy it'd be for Kacchan to just reach over and take it, peer inside and stiffen then sneer-
Izuku instinctively grabs the bag, holding it tighter to his person.
“Just… some extra supplies,“ Izuku lies.
Katsuki’s brow furrows further.
He braces himself, instinctively ready for mockery, for anger, for an interrogation.
But Katsuki says nothing about Izuku's return to drafting blueprints, or oddly conspicuous satchel. He clicks his tongue and turns his head towards the rising sun, muttering, “I don't care so long as you can carry it. We gotta get going.”
His fingers tap absently onto his sandboard- dark in wood and decorated with engraved explosions and stars. But that’s not what draws Izuku’s eye- rather, it’s the thin, tightly wound strip of turquoise leather around his wrist. About two inches in width, completely covering the skin beneath.
Why do you bother? Izuku can’t help but wonder. It’s not like we both don’t know-
Izuku shakes his head free of those thoughts, ignoring the sudden burning awareness he has of his own soulmark. If it's easier that they don't acknowledge it, then that's just how it is. The village is depending on him, and he can’t mess this up.
He gets to his feet. “Right.”
When Katsuki glances at him, expression unbreakable, Izuku averts his eyes. “Right. Of course.”
When Izuku was young, before he’d really learned just how unfair the world could be, he’d asked his mother about soulmates.
“They’re… your special person,” she’d told him, tapping at the orange mark on his inner wrist- a ten-point star, jagged lines that resembled lighting surrounding it. She set down her embroidery and took his tiny hands in her own worn ones, brushing over his knuckles with her thumb. “They’ll make you stronger, in all sorts of ways, and…”
Here, she trailed off, a strange look crossing her face.
“...They’ll be by your side until death.”
At first, he didn’t understand. He did not realize that soulmates died at the same time, together just as they were in life. That Inko had found out her husband- Izuku’s father- wasn’t her soulmate the day he was shot in the head by a bandit’s arrow, and she remained alive- a single stray line made all the difference, as it turned out.
Izuku was too concerned with the fantasy of it all- images of blonde hair, the color of sunshine, and eyes as piercing and bright as pomegranate seeds, of bright laughter and bold confidence unlike anyone else’s. It sounded beautiful to be told that there was someone he could always count on, who could always count on him- someone who would complete him like nothing else.
Izuku didn’t understand. He had not yet learned what it meant to be a liability.
In some ways, the world outside the barrier lets him down, at first. It’s the same old blue sky, the same old sand, and the same old small dunes, like the ones in the village. Izuku rides on Nana’s back, a few feet away from the dust kicked up from Katsuki’s sandboard, and does not dare voice any of this.
At the very least, he gets to see Katsuki in his element. He races across the dunes like they’re nothing, jumping across rocks and jagged dune edges, but not bothering with any fancy tricks. Likely conserving his energy for when it really matters.
As a seasoned adventurer, Katsuki has visited the canyons hundreds of times- they’re a pit stop on the way to the city, after all, so Izuku feels comfortable trusting that he knows where to go. Although a part of him is annoyed- it’s not really his choice to trust Katsuki, even though he wholeheartedly does. From the moment their mission had been briefed to the moment the barrier was opened, no one had bothered to keep Izuku up to date with much of anything.
Abruptly, Katsuki skids to a stop on the peak of a small dune, and Izuku is nearly thrown off by the suddenness at which Nana also stops. Smart girl.
“Relax,” Katsuki mutters gruffly, before pulling their compass out of his pocket. He lets it rest flat on his palm, clicks his tongue and then shoves it back in his pocket. "North is this way. We’ve got a pit stop ahead. Keep up.”
And before Izuku can so much as ask, Katsuki speeds off again.
Head north to the canyons , All Might had said, in lieu of direction. When you arrive at the heart, Nana will take you the rest of the way.
Izuku rolls his eyes, lightly pats Nana’s side to prompt her into moving again.
“Everyone’s always so cryptic,” he grumbles, his hair rustling in the wind. But it's his fault for thinking they wouldn't be. By this point he knows he should be used to it.
“Hold still,” Himiko says. No term of endearment, which is how Izuku knows Ochako's in hot water.
Ochako pouts at her, nevertheless straightening and allowing access to her scraped cheek. “Himiko-chan, I told you-”
“Hold. Still.”
Izuku sweats, awkwardly clutching his notebook close to his chest. “Y-Y’know what, I can come back-”
“No, no, Deku-”
“You can stay, Izu-chan,” Himiko says sweetly. “It's Ochako-chan that needs to behave.”
She says this last part with a very pointed look upwards, her hand still holding a salve to her girlfriend's cheek. Ochako just gives her a sheepish, dopey grin.
“Yeah,” Ochako says, a tad bit breathlessly, “Ask away, Deku!”
And he does ask, because his research depends on it. Ochako Uraraka is, in her own words, one of the slower sandboarders. She struggles to build momentum and her fastest speed is still a bit behind everyone else’s. What sets her apart, though, is ultimately a trick of her gift- she has the record for the longest time spent airborne, and the highest jumps he’s ever seen a sandboarder do.
He asks her how she uses her gift to propel herself in the air. He looks at the shape of her sandboard and sketches it from every angle. And the entire time, Himiko patches Ochako up, tucks stray strands of hair behind her ear, and lets her touches linger.
The worst thing about Izuku is that he hasn’t given up. He’s started filling his notebooks with blueprints, studying physics from old books in the library, working for hours in the blacksmith’s shop with Mei Hatsume, occasionally under the supervision of Ken Ishiyama. He’s still sloppy, as Mei says, but he has potential, and eventually he can start making actual progress with his contraptions. And with the right contraptions, he figures he can also learn to do insane jumps like Ochako, or shatter rocks like Eijiro, or flip and spin like Mina-
Soar through the sky like Katsuki, stars in his eyes and starbursts of fire and smoke behind him-
So he hasn’t lost hope.
(“Don’t scare me like that again,” Himiko says, when she thinks Izuku is out of earshot of the medical tent, and Ochako whispers “I know, I’m sorry, I promise.”)
He hasn’t lost hope.
(One inch in width, turquoise in color, leather in material, wrapped around a tanned wrist-)
You’d think he’d learn by now.
Hours pass. The sun shines high in the cloudless sky, spots speckling Izuku’s vision. Sand glitters like gold, and cacti plants grow in shapes and forms that are alien to him. It’s almost hard to believe they’d embarked at dawn.
Izuku rubs at his eyes, feeling drowsy, a mild twang in his stomach and an ache in his throat. He’s probably going to have to feed Nana soon- she’d already stockpiled on a bit of water and food before leaving, and according to All Might, she has a bizarre, camel-like ability to stockpile energy and food. But she still needs regular feed in order to keep up her strength- which will be necessary, if the dunes about a mile ahead are as steep as Katsuki says they are.
He reaches for his bag- beside all his carefully packed inventions, there’s a sleeve of alfalfa and a tightly sealed water canteen. He blinks and paws around for it- his vision feels strained, somehow, and, his limbs feel-
Nana skids to a stop. Izuku smacks his forehead against the back of her neck and yelps.
“Nana?” He pats at her side. “Nana, wait, what’s wrong?”
She huffs at him, hooves planted firmly in the ground. No matter how much he prods, she refuses to move.
This is odd. She’s never acted like this when she was hungry before.
Katsuki notices the situation surprisingly quickly- and by that, he means almost immediately. He frowns, jumping off his sandboard and climbing back up to where they are.
“The fuck’s going on? Why’d you stop?”
“I don’t know,” Izuku says helplessly, trying to steady his grip. Great Yoichi above, he feels dizzy. He finally grabs some alfalfa and holds it out to Katsuki. “She’s probably- I think I forgot to feed her. Can you- can you give her this?”
Katsuki does as he’s told, holding out his palm to her- with some visible apprehension. Llama handling is not one of his strong suits.
Nana glances at the food in his palm, snorts, then turns away. Kacchan holds his hand out for ten more seconds before he starts huffing.
“Okay, look here, you dumbass animal-”
“This isn’t good,” Izuku mumbles to himself, rubbing at his eyes again. “Oh, this isn’t good, there’s still so much more ground to cross, and it’s been-”
He coughs dryly. Kacchan looks at him weirdly, then squints.
“Hang on.”
He pours the alfalfa back into its pouch, marches over to Izuku’s side, and then, without warning, grabs Izuku’s face.
“ Ah-shan ?” Izuku manages, Kacchan’s fingers squishing his cheeks until his lips pucker up like a fish. He bats at his shoulder, trying to urge him- come on, we don’t have much time, the village is counting on us-
Kacchan stares into his eyes for what feels like an eternity. Then, his voice deceptively even, “When was the last time you ate?”
Izuku freezes. “Uhm.”
Could he get away with lying?
A vein in Kacchan’s forehead twitches.
No. Probably not.
“Deku,” he growls.
“...I forgot,” Izuku admits honestly, but his words are still muffled thanks to Kacchan’s firm grip on his face.
“You forgot?” Kacchan gapes, before his face settles into his trademark glare. “Fucking- how do you forget to eat?”
“I was busy,” Izuku says, and leaves it at that- no need to mention that the reason he was busy is because he was working on his prototypes.
“You were- you were-” he sputters, before he lets go of Izuku’s face, throws his head back and lets out a bone-deep groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Izuku shrinks in on himself, sheepish. “Look, I’m sorry, I genuinely didn’t realize-”
“You’re going to die of malnutrition, you idiot,” Kacchan snaps. “All because you were too busy to take care of yourself for once!”
He breaks off into an angry rant, most of his words unintelligible. Izuku frowns, confused.
It’s not that big of a deal, he thinks, as Kacchan rants. I’m not going to die if I miss one meal, and even if I did-
The realization hits him like a brick.
Of course, Izuku softens, guilt pooling in his stomach . How could he not realize?
It’s hard to forget, after all, that Izuku is a liability.
“Kacchan,” he murmurs, interrupting. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t considered you at all.”
Kacchan stills, face slackening in shock. “...Huh?”
“I’d never let that happen,” he reassures him. “I- No matter what you think of me, I need you to know that- I’d never keep you from your dreams like that. I’d never .”
Kacchan’s soft face immediately twists back into an indignant scowl. “ Huh ?”
“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” Izuku continues patiently, as Kacchan begins to double in his vision. Huh. Weird. “And- I know you don’t want to talk about it, so I won’t, but I promise I won’t do anything that’ll even risk-”
“Stop.”
Izuku stops. Kacchan pinches his nose and takes a few, deep breaths. “That's not- argh. Just… stop.”
He reaches into his own bag, pulling out a nut bar- roasted oats, cashews and pistachios, all held together with a chewy honey mixture - and all but shoves it in Izuku’s mouth.
“Eat,” he demands. “And drink, too.”
Izuku sighs. “Kacchan-”
“Eat. We’re not leaving until you do. Right, llama?”
Nana hums. Kacchan turns to her, imperceptibly softening. He pats her muzzle. “Good girl.”
Sufficiently ganged up on, Izuku rolls his eyes and complies.
Fondness blooms in his heart.
You’d think he’d learn by now.
There is little else most village children dream of doing outside of becoming Adventurers.
If you made textiles or ran a food stall or repaired homes or tinkered or read or kept a shop, anything, really- there was a particularly good chance you were going to spend the rest of your life within the borders of the village. The reasons vary, but the main one is this: at the heart of the village, is a simple mudbrick building. The front of which is used for town meetings; the inside, however, is filled to the brim with near infinite amounts of gold and jewels.
Within the village, the gold is worthless; the population is so small that everything can be run through a system of trade and communal ownership, and the heir of the Yaoyorozu family has mastered the chemical composition of just about all precious stones. Of course, outside the village is a different story. It is for this reason that the villagers are always wary of bandits in the area, of those who might leave and reveal their location, of those who might enter and escape with everything.
The only people who do use the contents within the Treasure House are the Adventurers- trained sandboarders and warriors who travel outside of the village, through the desert and a sea of canyons and finally, towards the Mainland City. From the city, they secure fabric, foreign foods and staple crops, weapons, technology, warnings of weather and, more often than not, defend the village from nomadic bandit troops, stray members of the City’s army, and wandering sorcerers who have devoted their lives to finding the village.
The reward of exploring the desert and protecting the village comes with its own costs: the training is harsh, the standards for proficiency with sandboards and llama-training are exceptionally high, and if you were an Adventurer, you had to travel alongside your soulmate.
That wasn't to say there weren't extenuating circumstances that one could work around, of course. There was Ochako, bonded to Himiko, the apprentice of the village healer- Himiko would travel with her only sometimes, and the rest of the time scold her and patch her up whenever she returned. There was also Tenya, bonded to the aforementioned Yaoyorozu heir. And then-
(“You’re not going to be the one paying the price.”)
Well.
Him and Kacchan, of course.
By the time the sun starts to lower from the highest point in the sky, they reach the outskirts of the desert- and subsequently, the part that starts to differentiate itself.
Steeper dunes, firmer, tightly packed sand. The cacti grow in larger numbers, and Izuku even spots some desert plants he doesn’t recognize. Birds of paradise fly overhead, specks of color against a clear blue sky. The wind breezes through Izuku’s curls, cool and lovely against the desert heat.
Nana seems fully in her element, galloping happily up the dunes, then skidding down at speeds that make Izuku grip onto her reins for dear life, his organs feeling like they could fall out at any second.
Izuku loves it.
He whoops for joy as Nana jumps off the tip of a dune and bounds down to the ground, his laughter breathless and light. He’s addicted to the feeling -that sudden moment when you’re midair, your stomach dropping, your body ascending- and then you land, and it starts all over again. It’s exhilarating.
(What he wouldn’t give to always have this.)
Kacchan sandboards next to them, to Izuku’s right, suspiciously quiet. He’s usually lost in the thrill of a good jump, too- hollering and yelling obscenities, moving with such power that he can’t help but scream it.
Izuku turns his head to catch a glimpse of Kacchan’s face and feels his heart stop, his smile freeze in place.
It’s an expression he’s never seen before. Kacchan’s brow is relaxed, his eyes half-hooded, mouth ever so slightly upturned at the corners in a way that is nothing short of… fond. It’s soft, it’s at ease, it’s… it has a boyish, sharp charm, and it’s undeniably Kacchan , but…
(What he wouldn’t give-)
In a split second it disappears, replaced with a familiar scowl, a suspicious red flush overtaking Kacchan’s face. Confused, Izuku turns his head to look over to his left, his eyes scanning the horizon line for anything noteworthy- he sees nothing but sand, cacti, and sky.
He frowns. Weird.
Abruptly, Kacchan starts picking up speed, releasing tiny, sparkler-like popping explosions from his hands. He glides ahead of Izuku, jumping with each mini-explosion, going faster, and faster, and faster-
Small, and sustained firepower to keep momentum without depleting energy, Izuku notes mentally- with a hint of awe. Kacchan had never tried anything like it on the practice slopes, so he must’ve figured it out on duty. Incredible.
But he speaks too soon. Kacchan propels himself up the steep side of a dune, brushing the tip of the sand-
BOOM.
Izuku almost doesn’t see him right away, through the sparks and the smoke, but his eyes always find him in the end- Kacchan soars, a shooting star in the sea-blue sky, and he backflips again as he hurtles towards the ground, spinning like a shuriken, landing with perfect precision.
As his board hits the ground, he glances back, as though to make sure Izuku was watching. Their eyes meet, and Kacchan grins wolfishly at him, all teeth and sharp lines, then disappears down the side of the next dune.
Keep up, Deku, his eyes seem to be saying.
What a show-off.
“He’s really incredible, isn’t he,” Izuku breathes, his heart thudding.
Nana, who miraculously isn’t spooked by the sound of the explosion (All Might’s holy llama, indeed), only snorts, as if unimpressed, bounding to keep up. Izuku laughs a little.
“You’re incredible too, you know,” he teases, and yelps when she jumps over the next edge- for a moment, just a moment, he knows what it’s like to fly.
“You’re still in here, huh?”
Izuku doesn’t look back at Mei, nor does he answer, opting instead to continue screwing in the final bolt of the wing. His only source of light is the oil lamp on his desk, and the dim moonlight from the window. He looks at his device, then back at his blueprints, hunched over his desk in total concentration. He knows why she's surprised. Most people, upon finding out that they were selected for a week long journey into the unknown, did not immediately head to the blueprint room in the blacksmith's shop.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, face impassive.
“Never thought I’d say this,” she murmurs, tilting her head. “But… y’know, the world won’t end if you relax a bit.”
Izuku sighs. “Mei…”
“I know, I know. I’m one to talk, and all.” She shrugs her shoulders. “But you know… it’s done. You’re heading out tomorrow because of the ‘great prophecy’. They’re not gonna suddenly change their minds. And it’s not like they could, even if they wanted to.”
“I know,” he mutters, still not looking up. “If you’re gonna hover, can you pass me that mesh from the other desk?”
“I mean it, Greenie,” she says, but nevertheless goes and tosses him the mesh. “You don’t have to recreate the entire Adventurer’s catalogue before midnight. I mean, I get why it’s tempting- just to know that you could do it if you really-”
“It doesn’t matter what I know,” Izuku snaps. Mei goes quiet, and he drops his head in his hands, sighing. “...Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“I know, Greenie,” she says, uncharacteristically softly.
“I just… no one thinks I can do anything .”
“I know.”
“I’m never gonna get a chance like this again, Mei. I can’t just- I can’t just do nothing.”
“I know.”
“I need to show them that I’m not- that I can-”
“Izuku,” she says, and she sounds almost sad. “I know.”
“Shit.”
Izuku looks up from the alfalfa he’s feeding Nana, to where Katsuki is standing by the edge of a dune. He gives her muzzle a few reassuring pats, secures her to her post, and then walks up to him.
“What is it?” Izuku asks, wind tousling his hair.
Katsuki’s quiet for a moment. Then, his back still to Izuku, he says gruffly, “Sandstorm’s gonna hit soon.”
He points over the horizon- which, upon closer inspection, turns out to be a particularly high dune- and what looks to be a small cloud of dust.
“See how the wind’s picking up? In a few hours it’s gonna get here, where we are.”
“Oh,” Izuku says, swallowing thickly. He’s never experienced a sandstorm before- only heard of them from the Adventurer stories. Huge, whirling windstorms that carry sand and rock in their currents, whistling endlessly in your ears and poisoning the sky red- the tamer ones lasting mere minutes, the more severe ones lasting days. And, of course, he’d studied how to keep moving through them. He’d spent nearly a day figuring out the mechanics, and sure, they were a little flimsy, but they’d do the job well enough.
“Okay, that’s- that’s fine," he says. "I-I brought some mesh coverings for our eyes, and some balms for-”
“ What ?” Katsuki asks. He looks at Izuku as though he’s randomly sprouted two heads that are both insisting they eat Nana.
“...What?”
“Are you an idiot?” Katsuki demands, properly scowling now. “Please fucking tell me I’m mishearing you. Please tell me you did not just suggest we keep going through a fucking sandstorm. ”
Izuku looks at him, indignant. “Well, what else are we supposed to do? The village is out of water, we can’t just-”
“We can, and we will,” Katsuki says, getting close and looming over him. Izuku stands his ground. “They have a supply. There’s a cave a few minutes away, dumbass.”
“Sandstorms can last days ,” Izuku argues. “And that supply won’t last longer than a week, we don’t have that kind of time!”
“So what’s your master plan, then?” Katsuki snaps. “We take a nice little walk through a carcinogen cloud for days and pray it all works out?”
“I just told you,” Izuku bites back, going to reach for his satchel. “I’ve been researching this! If we use the screens I made and-”
“Oh, if we use the shit you made,” sneers Katsuki. “Of course , like that’s going to help.”
Izuku feels the anger- ugly, and biting, and mixed with a hot wave of shame and embarrassment- rise up to his chest. “Well if you don’t want to help, then I’ll-”
Katsuki’s face twists in fury.
“ You’ll what,” he snarls, grabbing Izuku by the collar, and yanking him close. “Just what exactly are you gonna do, Deku?”
For a moment, it’s quiet- Nana groans from below, as if preparing to pull free from her post and break them apart.
Izuku inhales, trying to get his emotions under control. “Look. I- I wasn’t trying to say-”
“You’re a useless piece of shit,” Katsuki steamrolls on, his teeth gritting to stubs. “You think I’m the one helping you here? That you’re the one who’s going to get us through this shitty desert? There’s nothing- there’s nothing you can fucking do that isn’t getting in my way!”
Izuku snaps his mouth shut. His whole body feels limp, like a marionette with the strings cut.
It’s quiet.
The hurt hits him like a tidal wave, swarming his insides like an overfilled jar. He bites back a shaky gasp and ducks his head the second he feels heat prick at them. Useless fucking crybaby. Not now. Not now.
For a moment, Katsuki’s grip seems to loosen, like he too is going slack. Izuku doesn’t dare look up.
The quiet continues. Nana groans, and groans, and groans.
A hitched inhale. Katsuki lets go.
“...The cave’s over here,” he says, his voice sounding distant. “Just… come on.”
In an old book of theories that Izuku had purchased from the market many years ago, there was a chapter dedicated to a prominent philosopher from the Mainland City, regarding his most famous theory: the Pinprick Theory of Life.
The theory went as followed: there once was a man who died of a fatal blood infection, and when the doctors did a post-mortem inspection of his body, they found the stem of the infection had sprouted from a single mark from a rusted pin he’d accidentally pricked himself on ages ago. The theory went on to say that this is how all problems begin: as a single, unnoticeable and painless event that grew, and grew, and grew until it finally became noticeable. Until it had become a problem. And unless one could recognize the root in time, all problems would inevitably worsen.
This theory had remained in Izuku’s mind for a long time, despite the fact that he didn’t fully agree with it- he already knew what his pinprick was.
“Izuku has no gift,” All Might had said to his mother, because six-year-old Izuku had been paralyzed. The rest of the conversation seemed warbled, incoherent, as though his head was underwater, until All Might- Izuku’s hero, the greatest Adventurer to ever have lived, All Might– bent on one knee and looked him in the eye and said, “My boy, I’m… I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t alone in this, his mother tried to reassure him. There were people in the village who were like him, she insisted. There were so many other, incredible things that were available to him.
She of course didn’t mention that there were only fifteen other people in the town who had no gifts. Or that ten of those fifteen people were all over the age of seventy. That two of them were in their thirties, and bonded to each other. That the remaining three were all infants, who were giftless only by the criteria of not being old enough.
And it didn’t matter what else there was. Izuku had wanted to be an Adventurer. All the hours Izuku wasn’t spending with his best friend Kacchan were spent lending his ears to retired adventurers, to current adventurers who would give him the time of day. When he went to the market with his mother, she would give him something of his own to trade, and he would always, every time that he could, choose a leather journal - for when he was older and could document his adventuring experiences. He dreamed of swooping canyons. Of what some of the adventurers called ‘balloons’. Of the Mainland City, with bright, bustling lantern lights and markets that were, as the stories said, larger than anything the village had to offer.
But he had no gift. He had no way of defending himself. He was a walking weak spot, and everyone knew it.
Kacchan had been furious.
(“I don’t care what some stupid fate says! I don’t care! I’m going to be an adventurer, and you’re not going to get in my way, you stupid Deku!”)
And from that moment onwards, it was as if the rest of Izuku’s life had seemingly been mapped out in front of him.
He was forbidden from sandboarding. He was forbidden from llama riding. He was forbidden from attending Adventurer classes or taking their exams. His old teacher, who’d used to say he had an ‘adventurer's spark’ quickly ushered him out of the practice slopes when she saw him.
The one good thing about it was that Katsuki was allowed to remain- his gift and talent were too valuable. It was simply decided that Izuku had to be kept under lock and key, so as to not hold him back.
It wasn’t like that stopped Izuku, at first. He’d eavesdrop on the sandboarding lessons, taking notes whenever he could, and at night he’d try to sneak onto the practice slopes and put his learned knowledge to the test. He was caught every time.
“Is there really nothing I can do?” he’d asked desperately, on the day his old teacher threatened to tell All Might. “You won’t even let me learn?”
“I know it’s hard, sweetheart,” she’d said. “But it’s dangerous out there, do you understand? If anything happens to you, you won’t be the one paying the price.”
Because Izuku has no gift. Izuku’s death is not a heavy price to pay in itself; it’s a price to pay because of who it’ll take down with him.
This is what gets him, in the end, to avoid the practice slopes. He wants to be an Adventurer, but he’d never be able to live with himself if he prevented Katsuki from achieving his dream.
Izuku is a liability. And he can’t bear it.
Two weeks after the announcement, Katsuki starts wearing a turquoise bracelet around his wrist. He never takes it off.
The sandstorm, as predicted, is vicious.
From inside the cave, Izuku can’t see if it poisons the sky as red as blood, if it really can carry small rocks within its currents.
But he can hear it.
Finally, he understands those adventurers' stories- there really is no better way to describe the sound. The wind howls, and wails.
Izuku focuses on tying Nana’s post into the ground. He doesn’t look at Katsuki, who’s standing near the mouth of the cave, preparing their sleeping materials, no doubt. His hands are shaking. Nana noses at his curls, like she’s trying to comfort him somehow.
Stop that, He wants to say. I don’t deserve it.
The angry spark of fire has died down completely, now, leaving him with nothing but overwhelming shame and hurt. He’s such an idiot.
“Kacchan,” Izuku calls. His voice is hoarse.
Kacchan doesn’t respond.
Izuku bows his head, forehead resting against Nana’s knee, his eyes squeezing shut. “Kacchan, I’m…”
The silence remains. Izuku takes a deep breath.
“You were right,” he grinds out. “I- I knew you were right. I was being stupid, I just wanted- I’m sorry.”
Another beat of silence, and then Kacchan lets out a long sigh.
“You were being stupid,” he says, but it’s not biting in the way Izuku expected. “What were you gonna say?”
Izuku lifts his head, looks at Katsuki quizzically. “...What?”
“You were gonna say something,” Kacchan insists, setting down the bundle of blankets in his arms. “You just wanted what?”
Izuku gapes. Closes his mouth. He wants to dismiss Kacchan, on the one hand. The words are a jumbled, tangled ball of thread in his chest, and he has no idea where to even start- like an infection so large there’s no way of separating it from his body.
But Kacchan looks at him with a patience Izuku can never recall him having prior. He doesn’t look angry. A little pissed, probably, but there’s none of that snarling, bone-deep fury that usually accompanies him whenever Izuku fucks up. Kacchan truly, genuinely, wants to know.
“Tell me,” he urges.
When has he ever been able to refuse?
“I don’t know,” Izuku blurts out, and then, like a bursting water pipe, the words trickle out. “I don’t- I was wrong, I know I was wrong, I just- the village’s water supply isn’t forever, and everyone’s counting on me, and I just… wanted to show you…”
He lets out a shaky breath, staring at a crack on the ground.
“I just wanted to show you- to prove to you that I could,” he whispers, brokenly. “That I could… that I could do things. That I could help. That it wasn’t a mistake to let me come. That I could… I don’t know. I’m just… I’m sorry.”
Weakly, he sniffles. Nana hums soothingly, and he rubs at his eyes a final time, as if that’ll get the budding heat behind his eyelids to go away, and-
“Don’t be.”
Izuku lifts his head, looks at Kacchan, his brows furrowed in confusion. “W-what?”
“Don’t be sorry, I mean- fuck,” Kacchan looks angry, his sharp features twisted up- but it’s not directed at Izuku. “Fuck. Deku, listen, I-”
A beat. Kacchan takes a deep breath, his eyes squeezing shut.
“I’m an asshole,” he says finally, his voice quiet. “A real piece of shit. I never… I never shoulda’ said that shit to you.”
Izuku remains frozen still, barely processing the words, then sighs, shaking his head. “No, Kacchan, it’s- you were right, it was a stupid idea-”
“No I fucking wasn’t,” Kacchan snaps, and Izuku falls silent again. “I- It doesn’t matter if I was right about the fucking sandstorm. You’re not useless, alright? I don’t think that. I didn’t mean any of it.”
Izuku swallows. Wets his lip. Kacchan’s stare is intense, his eyes piercing- and he can finally pinpoint the emotion in them. Shame, and sour, ugly guilt.
“It’s okay, Kacchan,” Izuku says, because he can’t think of anything else.
“It’s not,” Kacchan insists, a desperate twinge in his voice. He clenches his jaw, eyes nearly pained. “It’s not. Fuck, Deku, I’m sorry .”
His words hang in the air, the howling wind sounding muted in comparison. Izuku blinks in shock, struggling not to gape.
Izuku doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t. He’d expected insults. A fight, even. This expectation is his whole life.
Kacchan’s never been vulnerable like this with him before.
Nana nudges his shoulder. Go on, she seems to say.
Izuku finishes setting the post. He hesitates. Then walks over.
Kacchan jolts in surprise, body tensing as Izuku stops in front of him- expression turning questioning when Izuku sits down right next to him, Kacchan’s thigh pressing against his own. He stares at the oil lamp they’re using in lieu of fire, taking note of the way it casts the whole cave in a warm, orange glow- the way it brushes over the edges of Kacchan’s face. It makes him look softer.
“It’s okay,” Izuku repeats. “I was being stupid.”
“You’re always stupid,” Kacchan says, but there’s no bite to it. “‘S not an excuse. You’re not getting in my way, alright? You’re… it’s easy, with you around. You’re strong. And smart, when you’re not being a reckless idiot. ”
Izuku huffs out a laugh, the last remnants of the hurt in his stomach dwindling away to make room for the blooming, proud warmth in his chest. He’s tired. Maybe that’s what causes him to drop his head on Kacchan’s shoulder, his body untensing. Kacchan must be tired too. It explains why he doesn’t push Izuku off.
“That means a lot, Kacchan,” Izuku says. It means everything, he doesn’t say.
A beat passes. Katsuki tilts his head back against the wall of the cave, grabs at the blankets and roughly drapes it over their bodies- but doesn’t shake Izuku off even once. Izuku still has more to say.
“Kacchan, I,” Izuku swallows, pursing his lips. “I know I can be stubborn. And reckless. But- you know I’d never really risk it, right?”
“Risk what?”
“You,” he answers. “I’d never- I’d never risk putting your life in danger.”
You mean too much to me, Izuku doesn’t say. Even if you don’t want me at all.
“...I know,” Kacchan says, surprisingly, his face impassive. Almost sad-looking, even. “That’s not it.”
Izuku can’t imagine what else it might be. All his life, Kacchan’s problem with him had seemed pretty clear: Izuku is a useless liability who’ll hold Kacchan back and get him killed.
And even that certainty is starting to fall apart.
“The mesh-screen thing is a good idea,” Kacchan says suddenly, taking Izuku by surprise. “So are the balms. Maybe for smaller sandstorms. Bet it’d save a lot of time and energy.”
“You really think so?” Izuku asks.
“I know so,” Kacchan huffs, almost haughtily. “I’m a Pro Adventurer, remember?”
Izuku’s smile fades a bit, the phrase reminding him of the reason they’re on this mission- memories of people, of stone buildings and a sudden swarming of water barrels, race through his mind. “Kacchan?”
“Hm?”
“How long do you figure this sandstorm will last?”
Kacchan lifts his head for a moment, listening to the wind- which, even to Izuku’s untrained ears, seems to have gotten quieter.
“‘S not huge,” he says, finally, leaning back again. “Won’t last longer than a night, max.”
“Are you sure?”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” Katsuki snarks, but it’s not… mean. Or even accusatory. “You doubting me?”
Izuku has to bite his cheek to hide his smile. “Of course not, Kacchan. I’d never. I wouldn’t even dream of it.”
“Cheeky little shit,” he huffs. A beat passes, and he shifts in place. “And- look, the villagers ain’t stupid. They’ll be alright. There’s enough water to last them all a week.”
What if I can’t do it? Izuku wonders . What if I’m not fast enough, strong enough? What if I let them all down?
But he can’t voice these concerns. As kind as Kacchan is being right now, he won’t tolerate endless self-deprecation. For now he’ll just have to trust that his inventions don’t fall apart, and that he won’t be alone, and that everyone- Mom, and Ochako, and Himiko, and Todoroki, and Eijiro and Mina and Iida and All Might-
They’ll be alright. Katsuki’s words repeat in his mind like a desperate mantra. They’ll be alright. They’ll be alright.
Drowsy, Izuku readjusts his position on Kacchan’s shoulder. Kacchan still doesn’t push him away; instead, a thick, muscled arm slides out from under Izuku, drapes over his shoulders- lightly squeezes at the meat of his arm, pulls him closer. It feels like a dream.
You’d think he’d learn by now.
“Sleep,” a voice murmurs. It sounds underwater, and painfully familiar. “I got you.”
His eyes flutter closed.
Izuku rests.