Chapter Text
The brambles cut the back of her hands, but if it meant shielding her lyre from the undergrowth Jirou was sprinting through, then so be it. The deep shouts of the guardsmen on her trail neared closer every second, and further in the distance, she could hear the rearing hooves of the horseback castle guards refusing to head into the thicket. Every pebble was a landmine, pushing the limits of her agility as she jumped from rock to rock over the little brook in her way. Just as she stepped onto the soft ground on the other side, the guardsmen’s’ voices rang clear; They were hot on her tail, just across the brook, with the first to attempt the jump slipping hard and landing face first in the river. Not caring much to meet the hangman later that day, Jirou ran through the other side of the clearing, pushing through leaves into a small dirt pathway that split into two sections. Over the tree line, smoke billowed over the trees to the left, and to the right, nothing. Split second decision making found her running to the left, hopping overhead logs and ducking under low branches as she came closer and closer to the source of the smoke.
The cottage was small, lumpy, and clearly older than any of her ancient bardic tomes. On one side, a large awning with a huge oven blazed white hot with coals along with some simple metal tools. Breathless, and desperate, she saw no one to ask for help, and just as she had decided to slam the unlocked door behind her, she heard the guardsmen once more, just outside the house, now. Inside wasn’t much different, other than clearly being well lived in. Frantically looking around, struggling to stay as quiet as possible under the thunderous shouting and hooves outside, she heard what she feared most- the shuffling of metal on the far side of the simple hallway she was in. Without a doubt, someone grabbing a sword to en garde any rapscallion breaking into their house. And so, she quickly slips into the nearest door to her, seeming to be a small bedroom, without much adornment other than a small rack for drying clothes with a shirt or two on it.
In other words, still, nowhere to hide.
Right as she had given up hope, she noticed that a large wooden plank resting against one of the stone walls seemed to conceal another door! Shoving it to the side with one hand on her lyre, it fell to the ground in a poof of dust, revealing just what she had suspected- her ticket to safety. She threw open the door, ready to breathe a sigh of relief, but instead found herself stifling a scream; Shocked, unable to move, staring at the shirtless man shining with sweat who was staring back at her, wide eyed. His wild, bright blonde hair streaked across his sharp face as he breathlessly tried to make out words, finding none, and instead instinctively reacting to the sound of the guardsmen slamming on the front door. Another voice, down the hall, seemed to shout back, but it was impossible to make out the words. Where his words failed him, action spoke, as he grabbed her arm with his large, callused hands to pull her into the closet, lifting the plank that originally hid the door into place (seemingly more secure this time) as he slammed it shut.
The air inside the closet is dense, cloaked in practically suffocating darkness. Jirou’s lyre pressed against her back, forcing her skilled, delicate hands against his chest, cut from the stone of back breaking labor and hardened by the sun. Each stifled breath drew her closer into the stranger, his skin hot to the touch, almost to the point of discomfort, and after just seconds she felt as though after if she spent much longer pressed against him, she would melt away into nothing. Beads of his sweat fell on her hands, and shoulders- his scent of burned wood and oil was intense, but not at all unpleasant. His arm was posted on the wall behind her, and her eyes were barely level with his chin if she stood on the tips of her toes, leaving no room for her to feel anything but small in comparison, and without any view of his face, all she could feel was his soft breaths on her ear.
Just as she began to come to grips with reality, another shout from the guardsmen caught her by surprise. Before she even had a chance to shout, his other hand covered her mouth, and she struggled not to cough from the intense smell of soot and metal. More steps, more barking orders from guardsmen tearing apart the house, overturning the simple furniture for no reason, demanding to find “that damn sorceress!”. Every second felt like an eternity, and soon, she heard the door to the room she was hiding in open and slam against the wall. Two or three sets of footsteps entered, quickly flipping the bed over and shouting at the voice she had heard earlier about the clothing, to which he sarcastically replied…
“Yeah, no, that’s for the OTHER fugitive I’m hiding.” Silence. “Yes, it’s mine. You have no sense of humor, do you?”
Clearly dissatisfied with the search, the heavy boots of the guardsmen stormed out of the room and continued to tear apart the cottage. Finally, he moved his hand off her mouth, resting it behind her, and she could feel the pounding of his heart against her body as she struggled to control her gasping breaths. After what seemed to be hours, she finally heard the hooves of the cavalry pattering against the dirt road once more, adjoined by the distinct chink of chain armor accompanying it away. Neither said a word, waiting to be certain their hunters were fully gone… but as if on cue, both shoved open the door, sending the plank flying, immediately pointing fingers and circling on opposite sides of the small room.
“How…! How DARE you! Handling me like some kind of... barn tool! Drenched in sweat and…!” Jirou did what she could to hide her deeply red face, hoping he assumed it was from the panic of nearly being executed.
“Hah? You try working with a fuckin’ forge! And how dare I!? Who are you to talk?! You broke into MY house, and you blame ME? Are you thick, or just stupid?” His harsh voice surprised her, making her take a step back, before her temper fed the fire of her confidence and she stepped right up to him, waving a hand in his face.
“Now look here. I don’t know who you are, but you don’t scare me. I’ll… I’ll…!” Just as she faltered in her words, he picked up his.
“You’ll what? Huh? How about you put on some clothes before fightin’ someone who just saved your damn life!”
Before Jirou could get pissed once again, she processed what he was saying, and looked at the state of her attire; her cloak was completely torn to shreds, as were most of her upper layer of clothes, leaving much of her fair white skin exposed along with small scratches and cuts from the bramble bush she rushed through. Looking up at him, she finally realized that his face wasn’t red from the panic of nearly being executed either, and she died a bit inside as she once again shrunk down three sizes, beginning a poor attempt to cover up her body.
Right when the silence between them began to scream, the door flung open to reveal a shorter, similarly built man with spiky red hair and a smile that barely faltered when he saw the scantily clad woman standing opposite of his friend. Without missing a beat, he stopped in his tracks, looked them both once over, and turned to the shirtless man…
“Oh, boy. My bad. Didn’t realize you had company, Bakugo. I’ll uh…” He paused, giving Jirou a quick smile. “...give you guys some aloooonneee time.”
He quickly turned on his heels, making a swift exit, leaving them alone once more with nothing but the incredible weight of embarrassment on their shoulders. After a few more seconds of struggling to look up, she heard him say, much softer now… “Here. Put this on. Kirishima is gonna make some food, no doubt, and we can’t have you at the table like…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his outstretched hand holding up a white linen shirt that was far too big for her. “...like you are…” Ending the conversation short, he tossed the shirt into her hands, opening the door but being stopped by her voice right before he exited.
“Wait, why...?” She started to ask, before having her sentence finished by Bakugo.
“...Would we help you?” He stops for a second, looking at the ground. “...Because this isn’t the first time ‘round this has happened. Don’t look too much into it.” And with that, he shut the door behind him, heading down the hall to Kirishima's out-of-tune whistling.