Chapter Text
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
It was this spring that Izuku Midoriya was three year-cycles old, with the wobble in his knees almost fully gone. At three, he could stand with his head full of unruly green curls held high, and his legs strong enough to prance around his mother; all a significant milestone for the centaurian race, Equitara.
It was all Izuku needed for him to fully indulge in his curiosity, finally able to trot a few feet from his mother to examine a flower or insect up to his nose, enough to go cross-eyed, when he used to only be able to stare distantly with childlike wonder. Each time Izuku sniffed the flora, or gathered an insect in his tiny hands, it was just as thrilling as the first. In the beginning, his mother, Inko, had tried to keep up with Izuku’s discoveries, providing the names of what she knew, but Izuku’s curiosity was insatiable. Having given up on wracking her memory, Inko gave Izuku his third gift: an abundance of parchment paper.
The foal had been overjoyed, and from then on, Izuku would spend his days out in the sun, memorizing the details of every plant he’d see and every bug or rodent he’d catch, until the moon rises, with him scribbling every detail as best as his clumsy hands could manage before bedtime. Too many times Inko could count the instances Izuku had fallen asleep charcoal in hand, at the little makeshift wooden table in their tent.
It was also the spring that Izuku made one of his biggest discoveries.
Where his herd stayed, the Garden of Iridessa, was filled with blooming flowers and lush vegetation. Hills gently rolled in the distance, with the grass high enough to brush against the knees of the tallest Equitarian. The Garden was plentiful in resources, enough to support growing foals as they transitioned from their mother’s milk to herbs and meat. The sun was always casted over the land beautifully, dappling everything the light touched in an array of colors. Beyond the Garden, however, was the border where soil turned darker, rocks jutting out the earth like jagged teeth, with a volcano looming in the far distance. The volcanic soil spread into the grassland, contributing to the Garden’s flourish along the border, none of which Izuku was aware of yet. The foal’s attention was honed in on the bunch of freshly bloomed coneflowers, their petals an almost vibrant red instead of their usual pink.
The sifting of pebbles in Izuku’s peripherals brought viridian eyes up from the ground to meet the brightest scarlet that seared into Izuku, who stiffened in return.
No bigger than he was, crouched another boy in front of him–but he was no Equitara, nor a centaur at all for that matter. There was no lower half of front paws and back hooves, but merely hands and feet instead. Neither was there a shiny, smooth coat with the dappled spots of a foal, nothing like what Izuku had. Most of all–where all of Izuku’s stare latched onto–there were two ruby-red horns poking out from the boy’s pointy blonde hair.
Before Izuku could recover from his stunned silence, the blonde narrowed his sharp eyes and turned away, slapping a thick black tail across the pebbles before sprinting to the rocks. In his daze, Izuku nearly got up right after him, but he instead fretted over the coneflowers that got caught in the attack, worrying and sighing in relief when no damage had been done.
Sparing one last glance to the rocks that the mysterious boy fled behind, Izuku trotted back home, finding out that he was much further away from the herd than he initially thought. The gentle scolding and concerned-yet-relieved hug from Inko had dissuaded Izuku from sharing his discovery that night.
His paper was filled with his routinely scribbles: coneflowers, liatris, a beetle he’d stumbled across; but amongst these renditions was something entirely new, and paired with the vibrant coneflowers, was the childish doodle of the boy with scarlet eyes and ruby horns.
From then onwards, Izuku visited that border of vibrant red coneflowers every single morning, trotting along the thinning grass and craning his neck to peer around jutting rocks for any glimpse of the boy.
There would be none. It was as if the boy was a mirage that Izuku dreamt up, and with drooped ears, he’d trudge back home every night.
Now, with spring at its peak, Izuku stood once more at the very edge of grass before rock, his face fixed with determination. His stance was as strong as it could be for a three-cycles-old Equitarian, with his chest puffed out in faux bravery.
Today was the day he’d venture beyond the Garden.
Sucking in a deep breath, Izuku squared his shoulders, raising a front paw to step past the grass. Tentatively, as if afraid the gravel would bite, Izuku gingerly took his first step, the pebbles shifting under his weight—
“You can’t do that.” Barked a loud, raspy voice.
Izuku physically startled, drawing his paw back as if burned so quickly, the force making him plop down on the grass. His head swiveled to spot the source of the voice, eyes as wide as saucers once they’d landed on the spiky figure.
With the sun haloed behind his hair, was none other the cause of Izuku’s current fascination; the ruby-horned blonde with scarlet eyes, who perched on a tall rock with a flat top with his claws gripping the edge of it, peering down at the Equitarian with a fierce glare. The boy then disappeared just as quick as he appeared, head disappearing behind the rock’s lip.
“Ah! Wait!” Izuku, stumbling out of his stupor, realizing he’d sat there with his jaw slack, “I wanted to–” In his scrambling to stand, he was interrupted by the sudden landing of the ruby boy in front of him, right where Izuku had stepped earlier.
“Wanted to what? Sneak in?” The blonde bit, but there was an edge to his rough, childish voice, almost as if egging on Izuku. To further hint it, a toothy grin then broke out on his face, “As if! I watch this border, and I’m damn good at it!” He emphasized with a puff of his chest, jabbing his clawed thumb at himself proudly.
Here, so up close, Izuku wasn’t paying much mind to the boy’s words. Rather, his mind focused on just how so much more red he was . The boy seemed to embody the color in its entirety. The unfamiliar clothes were decorated with reds and oranges, from the fabric that hung around his shoulders with intricate burgundy patterns to the small tassels dangling from his waistcloth and loose pants. Even further, the boy’s arms were a deep, dark red gradient, the fair skin fading into red, progressively becoming darker until his hands were a solid maroon. Behind him, the very same black tail that swatted pebbles had swayed ever so slightly, Izuku noticing the orange-tipped spines at the end. How truly fascinating .
“So cool,” Izuku had muttered out of awe, drawing his sparkling eyes back up to the boy’s face.
The boy, with his own mouth caught open–he must’ve been talking while Izuku stared–recovered seamlessly from the interruption, his grin only widening. “I know.”
The confidence pouring from this one boy was unlike anything Izuku’s ever seen in another foal; only Equitara warriors ever held this amount of bravado. Izuku itched to learn more, absorbing the boy’s attitude like a sponge. Finally working his mouth, Izuku piped up, “Why are you watching the border?”
The blonde visibly preened at the opportunity to boast. “Gotta prove myself, duh,” he started, before his grin turned wicked as he flexed a hand, “Bad guy comes in, I catch ‘em, and bam— ” he slams a fist into his palm, “—I become a warrior.”
“You want to become a warrior?” Izuku doesn’t catch the way he started leaning closer with interest.
“Obviously.” The boy’s eyes sharpened, a determined glint in them. “Everyone becomes a warrior. I’m gonna be the best out of everybody.” He stated, as if it was factual and inevitable, that he wasn’t merely wishing for it to happen. Then, a finger jabs at Izuku, “And you, nerd, keep comin’ around. You’re not some spy, or something?” His eyes narrowed into Izuku’s owlish ones, who jumped at the accusation.
“No! Of course not!” Izuku denied, waving his hands rather frantically, “I was just—! Um! Looking around—yeah!” He stumbled, beginning to redden in embarrassment at his stammer. He didn’t want to outright admit that he was looking for the boy right in his face, not when he thinks Izuku’s a spy . Izuku’s gaze flitted around, searching for a lifeline.
And there was one. The boy had watched with a raised brow as Izuku leaned down to pluck something from the ground. Then, outstretched and held up right to his face, was a vibrant red coneflower. Suspicion eased into confusion, the blonde glancing to Izuku in hopes of a clearer answer.
“These flowers only grow here, and they’re different from others.” Izuku provided, his embarrassment melting away as he mentioned the flowers. Gently twisting the stem between his finger and thumb, the twirling of red petals brought a smile to his face. “I thought they were pretty.” He admitted, before bringing up the flower until it was beside the boy’s scarlet eyes. His gaze flickered between the two for a moment, as if making a judgement. Then, with a brilliant smile, “Kinda matches you!”
To anyone else, it would’ve been intimidating the way the blonde grimaced, even scowling slightly, at Izuku’s innocent words. To the foal, however, it was all the more endearing, from the way the loud boy was suddenly quiet, with his shoulders nearly up to his red ears. A giggle bubbled up within Izuku at the sight, one that he didn’t bother to try hiding, especially as the boy started to huff irritably as Izuku laughed.
“Go home already!” The boy spat, but even if it was directed towards Izuku, he was the one who swiftly turned away, just as he’s done before. Except this time, no pebbles were swatted towards Izuku, no flowers were attacked, nor did he run away; the boy merely stomped away, his obsidian tail dragging on the rocky dirt behind him and leaving Izuku speechless.
There wasn’t a goodbye uttered from either of them, so with more determination than ever, Izuku decided in his mind that next time, he will learn the mysterious boy’s name. With this goal set, Izuku clutched the flower closer to the fur on his chest, prancing home with a smile that rivaled the fireflies who began to flutter from the tall grass. The flower, in all its vibrancy, would be delicately pressed between the pages of Izuku’s drawings, to preserve the scarlet red of its petals.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
It was the next few weeks where Izuku learned what the boy was. Every trip he had made since the encounter, the boy hadn’t appeared, and the energy within Izuku grew restless. Never having been one to hide things from his mother, Izuku finally spilled his encounter with the strange boy, talking fast enough that his words jumbled together into one excited mess. Only Inko could decipher her foal’s tangent, resting as she momentarily paused her stirring of fried vegetables above the fire to watch Izuku try to portray the mysterious boy.
“And—and—he had horns, like this ,” Izuku said, pointing both his fingers up from each side of his head to demonstrate, fingertips poking from his green moss of hair, “They weren’t antlers. They were super red, and looked sharp. Maybe they are! I wish I could’ve touched them. I don’t think he would’ve let me, though—”
His mother’s hand gently landing on his hair quieted him. “Seems like you’ve met a Vulkari.” Inko hummed, patting her foal’s hair once for good measure.
A Vulkari? The name dawned on Izuku, and with it rose even more questions. Did they all look like the scarlet red boy, who had a fiery temper to match? Were they all as determined as him, with confidence running in their veins? Just one boy had already looked so drastically different from everything Izuku knew, and there was apparently more? The thought alone made Izuku’s tiny body thrum with excitement, the soft down feathers along his forearms puffing up. Hopefully the parchment paper he still had was adequate enough to write everything Izuku would itch to scribble down.
Inko’s soft voice dragged Izuku out of his thoughts. “They’re our neighbors, but it’s quite rare to see them. You’re rather lucky, Izuku,” she mused, returning to the fire for a moment before chuckling to herself, “Or, maybe this boy is as stubborn as he seems.” She appeared to be amused by it, as if there was something more behind her words that evaded Izuku.
Deciding not to mull over it, not while Izuku was buzzing to go outside, the freshly seared vegetables and salted meat were wrapped neatly in a cloth and placed into his hands. With the routine kiss on the cheek and hug, Izuku was sent off.
“Be safe!” Inko would yell after her foal, to which Izuku merely waved behind him while trotting away from the tent.
The Garden’s Herd wasn’t large by any means; there were only a few tents like the Midoriya’s scattered around, and even fewer foals. Izuku was only one of three foals that were born in his year cycle, and none were very close with each other. Every Equitara learned to keep to their own, all residing under the watchful eye of their Stallion; it left very little opportunity for the foal to mingle with the other children. Not that they seemed to want much with him in the first place, with one foal being so blunt as to state that Izuku’s fascination over the flora and ‘food’–as the other had put it–was simply a waste.
Izuku, however, never saw it that way. Every living being acted with a purpose; Izuku had observed the bees, the insects that nobody else paid any mind to. The bees, who hopped from flower to flower, to bring the colors that decorate the Garden, the flora that tied together every creature in such an intrinsic connection that in some manner, affects one another. A mighty Equitara would be nothing without such connection–but Izuku knew only he held these thoughts. Soon enough, they’ll spill from his brain and onto paper, the minute he learns how to properly write.
It won’t be long now, with spring soon reaching its end and summer peeking around the corner. On the sunniest days, it reminded Izuku of the Vulkari boy, how his impression gave the hint that if he could, he’d catch the sun. It provided Izuku with an itch that he couldn’t quite scratch, especially since he hadn’t seen the other recently. No matter how many times he’d visit that same spot they’d met, regardless of Izuku craning his neck to peer around rock, the Vulkari hadn’t appeared again.
“Might have just missed him,” Izuku had provided the excuse, during the last time he visited, just a few days ago.
Even now, as Izuku stared absently at a patch of bright, yellow dandelions, his body resting in the sun-warm grass, he wondered about that boy. Perhaps the yellow of the dandelions resurfaced the memory of the Vulkari’s hair and yellow sclera, but something deeper in the foal wormed into his heart. Along with the memory, old hope seemed to resurface as well, a feeling Izuku had unknowingly buried. An old hope, that maybe he could’ve had a friend after all.
Before the heaviness could set in his heart, Izuku sat up and sniffed, fervently scrubbing at his eyes before anything could fall. No, he wouldn’t let himself give up after just one encounter. Not when he was so close to learning about something entirely new to him. With a deep breath to rid the wilting petals of hope, Izuku fished out his mother’s food, and ate with newfound determination.
The sun shined a little brighter that evening, and continued to do so as the days began to stretch. The nights slowly became shorter, the sun’s rays chasing away the night as it reigned above. When the sun did finally relent, the chirping of cicadas would emerge. Summer was quickly approaching, and Izuku could feel it on his skin as his legs waded through the tall grass. Trailing a hand along the blades, the grass felt brittle and dry to touch; the tradition of summer rain would surely replenish them, after being at the sun’s mercy.
However, even the sun’s warmth was nothing compared to the body of red that stood by red coneflowers, scarlet eyes finding emerald ones and stopping the Equitarian in his tracks. Right at the edge where grass met rock, as close as he could be, was the very being that plagued Izuku for weeks. Narrowed eyes widened ever so slightly, and red has never looked so bright before.
“Hey!” the shout of a familiar, raspy voice caused Izuku to blink out of his stupor. “Get over here already!” He barked, the sun catching his teeth, but there was no bite.
So Izuku, picking his jaw up and eyes fixed on the boy, walked over. The grass thinned out, and suddenly it was their first encounter all over again, standing in front of each other. A beat of silence passed between them; the boy seemed to be gauging Izuku again, while Izuku’s brain wrestled with rampant questions inquiring about the boy, thus rendering him quiet.
Soon, he settled on one. It burned the most in Izuku’s mind, something he was eager to know. With tiny hands clutching the fabric of his shawl, he spoke. “…Where were you?” His voice was small, just enough for the other to hear. A short, timid question, yet it held a layer of vulnerability that neither boy wanted to address.
As if expecting the question, the boy’s shoulders hunched, just the slightest. “…Grounded. Wasn’t s’posed to be out this far.” He had huffed, practically scowling down at the ground like it personally offended him. He continued, “Other stuff too—it ain’t important! I still came anyway! And you—”
Izuku tensed at the sudden finger pointed right in his face.
“—are still here! Maybe I was right to guess you’re a spy!” The boy snarked, the scowl having quickly been replaced by a triumphant, and slightly menacing, grin.
Accused once more of something so ridiculous, Izuku nearly groaned in exasperation, if it weren’t for how the silliness of it made him smile. “I told you, I’m not!” He retorted, one of his hooves stomping on the ground, but the boy wasn’t so easily convinced. Then, an idea flashed across his mind, “A spy wouldn’t give their real name, right? Then I’ll do that!” He declared, not giving the other a chance to speak before Izuku sat low to the ground, drawing lines in the rocky dirt with his finger.
The scrawls were messy, worse than his writing on paper. He’d only just barely started learning how to write, starting with his own name, courtesy of his mother. “There! I’m Izuku,” he presented, smiling proudly despite the confusion on the boy’s face as he stared, “Izuku Midoriya. Do you believe me now?”
The boy’s head tilted to the right, then to the left, as if the angles would help him read better. Finally, “Your handwriting sucks. It looks like it spells ‘deku’ instead.” The bluntness made Izuku sputter indignantly, trying to protest, but it fell on deaf ears. “I’ll show you how it’s done,” and then the boy was crouching too, using his claw to write in the dirt.
Katsuki, the lines would spell. The writing was leagues neater than Izuku’s, each line drawn with confidence. Izuku’s shaky writing was embarrassing compared to Katsuki’s, but he only found himself awed once again. From the writing, to how Katsuki himself seemed prideful over it. Katsuki , his thoughts seemed to swirl around the new name, as if overjoyed to finally have learned the boy’s identity. How pleasant it was to have a name to match the face that consistently reappeared in his mind.
“Don’t wear it out, Deku.” Katsuki grouched, which startled Izuku out of his habitual muttering, having tested the name with his own tongue unknowingly.
The nickname almost went unnoticed. Almost. “It’s Izuku . Not Deku.”
“Your writing said so.”
Izuku bristled. “Fine, then you get a nickname too.” He stated matter-of-factly, to which Katsuki only raised a brow at. Izuku quietly pondered, staring at the other all the while. Then, his smile reappeared. “Kacchan.”
Katsuki had immediately retorted, rejecting the nickname outright in an outburst, all while Izuku laughed and cackled, clutching at his own stomach. It was Katsuki’s turn for his yells to fall upon deaf ears, as Izuku remained unyielding in the nickname.
It was the first time in a long while that Izuku laughed so brightly with another child, even as their bickering slowly slipped into conversation. Nothing of what was said held much significance itself, consisting of questions about favorite colors or even foods, but all of it would be treasured by Izuku nonetheless. Each passing minute spent with Katsuki, the longer Katsuki had stayed , was sacred for Izuku, who had wished the sun would remain in the sky forever in this moment.
Even so, the sun had dipped and the sky steadily grew darker, which Katsuki took as a sign to return back. He didn’t run away, nor did he stomp away in a huff, but merely gave a halfhearted wave and walked. It left Izuku with a warm buzz in his chest, the elation completely snuffing out any doubt within his heart. There was never a formal goodbye uttered between them, and this time, Izuku felt assured that he’ll see Katsuki again. Hope had bloomed once more within him, and he was daring enough to allow it.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
“Kacchan!”
A blonde head turned to face the running Izuku, with blazing red horns standing tall from his bangs. “Deku,” Katsuki replied in a gruff, eyes lifting from the meager pebble stack he was tending to, “You’re late.”
Izuku practically skidded to a stop, digging his feet in the ground in order to avoid colliding into Katsuki. “I know, I know! I got held up, I’m sorry—oh!” He suddenly paused, eyes blinking at Katsuki, the emerald glimmering in excitement. “They’re even taller today, huh? So cool,” he mused, hands reaching out to hover around the ruby horns, gauging and measuring without touching.
“Yeah,” Katsuki remained still for a moment, before eventually swatting away Izuku’s curious hands like flies, “Calm down, Deku. These are nothing, just you wait. Mine’re gonna be the biggest horns out there, I know it!” He gave a toothy grin, puffing out his chest in pride. If it was anyone else who’d said so, then Izuku wouldn’t have believed them. However, this was Katsuki, the boy that oozed determination from his very being–something Izuku had quickly learned over the course of almost two years of knowing him, now.
Within the span of two years, the two became closer than Izuku would’ve ever imagined. As soon as summer had truly begun, Katsuki had shown up every single day, and only left when the sun set. The summers easily became Izuku’s most anticipated season, as it was when Katsuki was there, waiting for Izuku at the same spot everyday. In the first year of their budding bond, Izuku had bombarded the boy with numerous questions, each one inquiring about his every feature to the point that Katsuki almost bit his head off a few times. Not that it truly bothered Izuku, though. Not even when Katsuki had asked snippy or sarcastic questions of his own in return, all of which Izuku happily answered.
With both boys being slightly older now, Katsuki was really the only one to have started changing. The baby fat still remained in his cheeks, and his eyes were still wide, but it was noticeable how his horns were taller than before, with new patchwork added to the red fabric draped around his shoulders. Even fins began to poke out from behind his ears, mostly hidden by his blonde hair. Most noticeable of all, however, was the new single fang dangling from a beaded necklace. It caught Izuku’s attention every time it swayed with Katsuki’s movements, and the way the dark beads contrasted against pale skin.
Meanwhile, Izuku hadn’t changed very much, if any at all. A few more freckles dotted his tanned skin, scattered across almost every inch of skin, all due to the early summer sun beating down on the Garden. Yet, his fawn spots along his lower half’s back still remained, and his feathers were nothing noteworthy either, still consisting of soft, down feathers. At this age, most Equitara foals had their antlers beginning to grow; Izuku’s forehead was bare. It wracked his nerves to think about, so instead, he focused on Katsuki. It was easy to, with how fast the boy seemed to grow. Izuku could be just as proud for him, fascinated by him every time.
“Kacchan,” Izuku called softly, gaining the other’s attention, “What’s that? You didn’t have it before.” He gestured to the necklace, noting the three different colors of black, orange, and red beads as Katsuki looked down at it.
“Oh, this? About time you mentioned it.” Katsuki’s smile gleamed, all prideful and goading. “A tribáo ,” He answered, jumping at the chance to elaborate, “Badass, ain’t it? It’s my own tooth, and it’s ‘cus I turned five. Means I can control my core real soon.” A dangerous glint gleamed in Katsuki’s eyes, an excited fire alighted in them.
A core, Izuku had learned, is a crystal that acts as a Vulkari’s heart. They were shining crystals, glowing brightly from where they were embedded in a Vulkari’s chest; Katsuki had shown Izuku once, a gleaming yellow core that rested beneath the patchwork cloth he wore. Izuku had wanted to learn more, observe from up close to try and see how it worked, but Katsuki had crossed his arms defensively, blocking Izuku. It was disappointing, but Izuku knew better.
Katsuki wasn’t done yet, however. “I’m getting stronger. Bet I could beat anything I wanted to. Maybe even the Chief.” He said, thrilled at the prospect. Fighting seemed to run through Katsuki’s blood, constantly telling Izuku stories of his victories in training and brawls, all with a fierce zeal for winning. The drive to become the very best was instilled in Katsuki, unwavering in his goal. It all inspired Izuku to have the same resolve in anything he does. Perhaps it was contagious, as every story and proof of Katsuki’s growth left Izuku smiling.
“You’ll have to tell me when you do.” Izuku chirped, hands clasped together in front of the fur on his chest.
“Maybe I’ll let you watch,” Katsuki’s tone had softened, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came, bluntness returning full-force, “You’re not that strong, though. And you’re small. You’d get stepped on, or something.”
The visual made Izuku wince. “...Maybe you’ll just have to protect me. You’re strong enough for the both of us, right?”
The words seemed to stop Katsuki for a moment, scarlet eyes widening as they stared at Izuku. Then, a scoff. “Damn right. Guess I’ll watch out for you, nerd.” Katsuki gave a lopsided grin, one that brightened Izuku’s smile, overjoyed at the thought. The peace was quickly interrupted, with hands fiercely ruffling green curls suddenly, Katsuki’s rough voice overpowering Izuku’s complaints, “Doesn’t mean you gotta stay weak! Start getting tougher already!”
Izuku’s flailing hands didn’t do much against’s Katsuki’s rough ones. “Obviously! I’ll get stronger! You have to watch me, too!” He yelled, to which the hands tormenting his hair finally relented.
“You better, Deku.” Katsuki huffed, giving a final tug to an unruly curl. “Better show me somethin’ cool.”
Izuku straightened up, his hair wild yet his eyes gleamed with firm determination. In just a matter of few words, Katsuki’s confidence had wormed its way into where Izuku’s nerves began, alighting a new fire that burned away the weeds. If Katsuki was there with him, to watch him as well, then Izuku didn’t want to disappoint. “Of course, Kacchan.”
It was an unspoken promise of theirs, something only they shared with each other. That between the words, it implies a future, where even as they grow older, they will still be together. It was exhilarating to Izuku, almost overwhelming to think about. That night, it kept him awake, holding onto his happiness as he poorly wrote and doodled onto his paper all about Katsuki and the deal they made. His imagination had run rampant, scrawls spanning from what Izuku imagined Katsuki’s battles were to Izuku himself, drawn as a big warrior with no imperfections, standing tall with an equally strong Katsuki—as best as his four year old hands could manage. The doodles were messy, with charcoal smudges and the writings were scratchy and shaky, yet every line contained every bit of Izuku’s joy.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
The chirping of cicadas roused Izuku from his sleep, the sound louder than usual. As soon as he realized it, Izuku quickly scrambled out of his cot, as the raucous noise could only signify one thing; summer was at its peak, and therefore, it was Izuku’s fifth birthday. For as long as the foal could remember, the roaring chirp of cicadas had always accompanied his birthday, for it always fell on the day when the sun shone brightest.
Wobbling from the sleep still in his legs, Izuku stumbled over to Inko, bumping into her and interrupting her sewing with his boundless energy. She was unperturbed by Izuku’s bouncing and hopping around her, laughing fondly as she set down her needle and fabrics. “That excited already, dear?” She mused, but her foal’s abundant energy was nothing new to her.
Izuku stopped in front of her, adorning the widest smile on his chubby face, “Yes!” He chirped, a bounce still in his step as he beamed up at her. “I’m five now! That means I’m gonna get bigger, and taller, and–!” He gasped suddenly, before reaching out and tugging excitedly on Inko’s woven tunic. “Mom! Mom! My antlers! Are they there yet? D’you see?” The words tumbled from his mouth a mile a minute, a jumbled mess that only his mother could understand.
As gently as she could, Inko pried off the eager hands that had latched onto her, turning where she sat to better face her bundle of energy. “Well let me see, sweetie.” She coaxed Izuku, before brushing aside the curly, green bangs that flopped over his forehead, her eyes observing around his hairline. The boy barely held still in her hold, refraining from fidgeting too much but ultimately struggling.
Then, Inko gasped, “Oh! My,” a smile grew along her lips, as her fingers found what they were searching for. “They’re there, alright!”
Pressing against the pads of her fingers were both nubs of Izuku’s new, sprouting ivory antlers, one protruding from each side of his forehead.
Wriggling out of Inko’s hold, Izuku burst into a cheer, swinging his arms about as he reared up on his back legs. His smile was one full of glee, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkled; stronger than his glee, however, was pride. The nubs were proof that he was growing, and he was already on his journey to having big antlers, ones big enough to awe any Equitara. Maybe even Katsuki would be in awe too, and Izuku hoped so.
After his cheering settled, Izuku became enamored with touching the blunt tip of his sprouting antlers with his own hands, feeling how smooth the bone was, how slightly velvety it was against his fingertips. In a bout of curiosity, Izuku pressed against one nub, only to wince as the pedicle felt sore, sensitive from the new growth.
Inko had merely watched her foal’s antics, resting her cheek against a palm with her own proud smile dawning on her face. It wasn’t nearly as wide as Izukus’, for hers was mixed with sentimentality, causing her smile to soften. “Izuku,” she called tenderly, meeting big viridian eyes with her own, “I’m very proud of you. Happy birthday, ‘Zuku.” She added, opening her arms for an embrace, one that her foal happily jumped into.
With tiny arms wrapped around her, Inko spoke again. “It might not beat your new antlers, but I have a gift for you, too.” A laugh bubbled out of her at the way Izuku quickly peered up at her, his eyes wide and filled with his typical curiosity. She loosened her embrace, reaching to her side to pick up a long string of thread, holding each end delicately with her fingers as she presented it to Izuku. Woven with thick grass and green twine, was a new ild’ad , threads that signify status and age, decorated with the colors of their season; in Inko’s hands, the ild’ad was a mix of green and yellow, yet traces of reds and golds glinted from the green. It was tightly and intricately woven, and as Inko clasped it around Izuku’s waist, it fit perfectly, with two red tassels dangling in the center.
Izuku was a summer’s foal, and the present bathed him in enough warmth as basking in the sun. It filled him with tremendous joy as he stared at the ild’ad , then up at his loving mother. He hugged her once more, as tight as his small arms could, burying his face into her tunic before any tears could slip. A muffled ‘thank you’ was barely audible, alongside a small sniff, yet just enough for Inko to hear it.
She sighed in return, soft and with a smile, as her fingers began coaxing down the more untamed curls of Izuku’s hair, “You’re welcome, dear. Now, why don’t you go have fun on your birthday? Make some memories, yeah?” She offered, yet there was an undecipherable weight to her words, as if the offer held more to it that Izuku hadn’t known. It didn’t register in his brain, not when his thoughts filled with telling a certain boy, and it wasn’t a worry when an adoring kiss placed on each base of his antlers washed it away.
Inko set Izuku off, waving to him as she always does before he disappeared from the tent. From the second Izuku’s paws touched grass, he leapt into a sprint, running within the tall, dry grass like a gust of wind. His laugh was bright and melodic, hearing the few charms and tassels decorating his ild’ad clink against one another as he ran. It felt freeing to sprint, as the path to his destination was burned into his memory.
Soon enough, Izuku’s eyes spotted dots of red along the grass, and with it, a head full of blonde hair. Resting languidly atop the grass and facing the sky, was none other than Katsuki, occupied with the twirling of a coneflower pinched between his fingers. Izuku slowed his pace, walking up to where Katsuki laid his head, stopping just before the other’s horns and peering down at him. “Hi, Kacchan.” Izuku gleamed, grinning when scarlet eyes returned his gaze. “Guess what?”
Katsuki blinked at him, “What?” he replied, before his stare seemed to hone in on Izuku. “Are those–”
“My antlers? Yeah!” Izuku interrupted him, “It’s my birthday today! Now we’re both five!” The smile on his face was bright enough to compete against the summer sun. Maybe even contagious, as the corner of Katsuki’s lip ticked upwards.
“About time, nerd. I’m sure they’ll be all fine and dandy,” he started, his tone dipping into a teasing lilt, then stating, “Mine’ll be cooler, though.”
Izuku stared down at him, his bright expression shifting into a challenging grin. “We’ll see, Kacchan. I bet mine will be as cool as the Stallion’s.” He quipped, standing a little taller at the statement. It was once an idea that Izuku could merely dream about, but now, over the course of two years, it feels a bit more tangible. To be as mighty as a Stallion, Izuku thinks, would allow him to stand alongside Katsuki proudly.
Katsuki seemed amused by Izuku’s words, shifting to sit up in the grass and face the other. “Bet, huh?” He echoed, as his smile turned into a wicked grin. Katsuki leveled Izuku with his own fiery stare, “Y’know what? Yeah. Let’s bet on it. Years from now, whoever has the coolest and bigger horns, wins.” His sharp teeth gleamed as he grinned, oozing an intense competitive spirit that Izuku had no choice but to accept. When Katsuki held out his hand, Izuku immediately took it.
“And the loser?” Izuku asked.
“Loser gives up somethin’ important.” He affirmed, eyes flicking down for a quick second before returning. “Like that thread of yours. I know that’s gotta be important to you.”
Izuku huffed, “You think I’m gonna lose?” Perhaps the confidence had rubbed off onto Izuku, as it seemed effortless to say so with Katsuki. “Then I want your tribáo .”
“Fine,” Katsuki said, and with that, their hands shook and the bet was made. A small weight was added to Izuku’s heart, the weight of a deep promise, and he’ll gladly carry it with pride until it is fulfilled.
“It’s an ild’ad , by the way.” Izuku added, taking away his hand to clasp them both behind his back.
Katsuki raised a brow. “The string?”
Izuku nodded, his expression easing into a relaxed smile. “Kinda like your necklace, sorta.” Each was significant to either culture, yet served different purposes. Izuku had yearned to learn more, but Katsuki only shared so much. The short fuse of his towards questions still remained strong, even after two years. “I’ve always wanted to look at it, Kacchan.” Izuku sighed.
Katsuki shot a weird look at Izuku for a moment, almost quizzical. “…Yeah?” He mulled over a thought, indicated by how his brows pinched together. After a moment’s hesitation, Katsuki reached up behind his neck, unclasping the tribáo before holding it out towards Izuku. The beads clattered softly, and the tooth dangled with the action. “Take a good look then, since it’s probably the only time you will, Deku.”
Staring at the tribáo , surprise and awe swiftly overtook Izuku’s features. He opened his mouth to question Katsuki, but clamped it shut instead; asking might risk Katsuki immediately rescinding his offer, and Izuku certainly didn’t want to lose the chance. Moving his hands from his back, he reached for the necklace, gingerly accepting it as if it were fragile. “Thanks, Kacchan.” He muttered softly, his voice so full of wonder as he felt the smooth beads between his fingertips. “This is really cool, you—” He trailed off when his eyes lifted from the tribáo to Katsuki.
Katsuki, who stared just beyond Izuku’s head, suddenly focused on something else entirely.
Izuku’s wonder began to wither, confused by Katsuki’s wide eyes until he turned, looking over his shoulder. The sight made him stiffen, having to raise his head higher just to see their face.
At a height taller than both boys combined, was the Garden’s Stallion, the leader and protector of the herd, standing right before the two with a pensive expression. Golden hair framed his face like a lion’s mane, with a sharpness to his face that came with battle and age; his very presence was heavy, even more so with the large, twisting and curling antlers adorning his head, lined with traces of gold.
“All Might?” Izuku broke the tense silence, worry beginning to settle in his gut as he feared trouble, “You’re here? Why? Oh–am I too far from the herd? I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying att–” Izuku’s anxious rambling was interrupted by the rumble of All Might’s voice.
“Go back home, Young Midoriya.” His voice left no room for argument, a stern yet calm tone. All Might’s eyes lifted from Izuku, eyes that Izuku knew were always gentle towards the herd but were now hardened, which now settled on Katsuki. All Might’s brows had pinched upwards upon seeing the boy, something Izuku recognized as a flash of worry. Then, he spoke once more. “It’s no longer safe.”
Before Izuku could begin to question those words, his ears picked up the sound of shifting grass. Returning his gaze back to Katsuki, he expected scarlet eyes to be staring back at him with fearless confidence, as that was the Katsuki Izuku had grown with—yet there was fear, and only fear in those eyes. The sight of a horror-stricken Katsuki made Izuku mentally stumble, his world off kilter as it was something Izuku never wanted to see.
It sickened, and hurt Izuku to see him like this. Most of all, it made fear worm its way into his own heart. His voice had wobbled when he spoke. “Kacchan—”
A distant explosion went off, a deep tremor rumbling the earth, cutting off Izuku as they all whirled around to see, each with their own form of horror.
For in the volcanic land of Valerius, the land just beyond the Garden’s border, Katsuki’s home , there was a large tower of smoke billowing up from behind the jagged rock, rising in the blackest of ash, twisting and writhing as it reached the heavens.
Within the next few seconds, Izuku made his second discovery.
Chaos, and how cruel it can be.
In the first second, the sight of Katsuki’s unfiltered shock and dread was burned into Izuku’s memory. It yanked fiercely at Izuku’s heart, and he moved to reach out for the other, to soothe or comfort, or prevent what Izuku feared. Most of him knew what Katsuki would do; it would be unlike him if he didn’t, yet a small, selfish part of Izuku ached for him to not.
Katsuki had always been stronger than him, however. Seconds blended together, and within that blur, Katsuki had run—not away, but instead, to where the explosion detonated. Strength was Katsuki’s most prideful aspect, and Izuku had always believed in him, yet he yelled out nonetheless, calling for Katsuki to no avail; The familiar red had blurred out in the distance, possibly from Izuku’s tears, and in the last agonizing second, Katsuki disappeared beyond the rocks. It gutted Izuku, overwhelmed with worry and fear, unknowingly clutching the tribáo in a vice grip as he hiccuped the beginning of a sob.
Even as All Might gently nudged the foal away from the border, Izuku’s eyes remained on the rocks.
As he stared, he found himself three year-cycles old once again, back to searching for any sliver of a sign of the mysterious boy, when vines of doubt had begun to grow around Izuku’s heart. The only difference, one that kept Izuku grounded where he stood, was that the doubt was replaced with grief.
Gold flashed in his vision, and Izuku’s lower body was suddenly pushed by All Might’s antlers. Words had failed to reach Izuku, but the action was jarring enough to bring him back. He was corralled away from the border, back towards home, but there was a sense of urgency to All Might’s guidance. It didn’t feel like it was a matter of guiding a lost foal back to the herd anymore, and the thought of something wrong added another weight to Izuku’s gut.
Chaos was cruel, Izuku had learned, and would never forget.
For when Izuku blinked away a few tears, and his vision cleared slightly, he caught the distant sea of bright flames that devoured the dry grass, growing fiercer and brighter each passing moment as it ate, fueling itself.
Wildfire.