Archive of Our Own

“Lock him up, find whoever let him into the castle and lock them up as well. We cannot allow this to happen again.”

Todoroki Shouto sighs, massaging his temple in an ineffective attempt at sweeping his headache aside. It’s been over two hours since the incident happened—an assassin, armed with a dagger, tried to stab him in the middle of a ballroom overflowing with people. An unintelligent choice, really, which would obviously make them wonder how that man managed to slip into the castle and past security with a dagger hidden in his pocket.

The man yelling orders is one of the many advisors of his father, the King. Those men are customarily much less aggressive and disruptive of his peaceful state of mind; however, if they can handle one, two or even three persons trying to take the Prince’s life, having a fourth nearly succeeding is enough to snap the thread of their patience. Now, Shouto comprehends the urgency of the situation, but that doesn’t stop him from wishing he could walk away from all that and have some space for himself.

“We must do something,” The advisor warns, turning to look at the Prince and respectfully bowing his head, “Your Highness, please.”

“What would we do?” Shouto asks, suppressing a deeper sigh, “I already have more bodyguards than any other Prince in our neighbor Kingdoms. The men you arrested claim they don’t work for anyone in common, and we have no idea why these attempts are now suddenly happening.”

He watches as the man purses his lips, “This is not acceptable, Your Highness. It is your life at stake.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Shouto frowns, “What do you expect me to do?”

Sweating and stumbling over his own tongue as he tries finding the right words to say, the advisor opens his mouth, but gets interrupted by the sound of the heavy wooden doors sliding open. Shouto awaits, shoulders tense for a few moments, until he recognizes the new presence in the room and relaxes entirely.

“Hello, Dame Yaoyorozu Momo.”

“Forgive me for intruding, Your Highness,” The woman—his most trusted warrior, recently turned into the one in charge of picking his bodyguards and guiding them through the Prince’s schedules and preferences—kneels, bowing. Shouto waves his hand dismissively, smiling as she looks up at him.

“How many times must I say that’s not necessary, Momo?”

“A thousand more, and I will most likely still do it, Your Highness,” Momo says, rising to her feet and addressing the advisor with a quick gesture of her head. “We had every guard write a detailed report of everything they did and the oddest events they saw during the ball. We also talked to the people, from the peasants to the nobles, but we thought it best to release them as quickly as possible to empty the castle and give us a clearer view.”

Shouto squints, “Do you think the man might not have come alone?”

“It’s a simple precaution,” She assures him, “We are finished with most of the procedures, so His Majesty ordered me to escort you around the castle in safety, Your Highness.”

Albeit it is rare for Shouto to agree with his father, that might be an actual good decision. Shouto trusts Momo—always has—and having to talk with her won’t be painful or bothersome at all. If it were any other guard, the tension on his muscles would only grow, and he might need to visit the infirmary for a bit.

Shouto dismisses the advisor quickly and gestures for Momo to walk alongside him as he begins stepping out of the room. The castle is never silent, but it is particularly loud tonight. Something about it irks Shouto beyond his own comprehension; probably the fact that he knows they’re not running for Todoroki Shouto’s life, but for the Prince’s life. The two might appear to be the same to some people, but there are few who know they’re not. Yaoyorozu is amongst them.

“Did the man hurt you?” Momo asks as they walk past a few closed doors, ignoring the chatter coming from inside.

Shouto shakes his head negatively, “He didn’t have the time. I was by the table and one of my bodyguards saw the man approaching with a hand on his hip. As soon as he realized it was a dagger, there wasn’t much of a fight for the assassin to put up.”

“That’s excellent to hear,” She says, and, although Shouto knows that’s mostly because she’s glad that he’s alive, it is also because she’s glad she picked the right men for the job. Momo has always been insecure, despite being such a reliable warrior and friend. Shouto doesn’t mention it often, but he makes sure she knows she’s doing a great job subtly. “How are you feeling, Your Highness? You mustn’t be too thrilled about the ball night right now.”

“Well,” He chuckles softly, “I did say I would rather stay in my room rather than be at the ball tonight. Perhaps, next time, father will listen to me.”

Momo offers him a calm smile, “Your siblings must be worried. Would you like to talk to them before I walk you to your room?”

That is, indeed, something to consider. The Queen, Shouto’s mother, was the first person he talked to in order to reassure her of his safety. Touya and Natsuo—his brothers—might have been able to keep Fuyumi’s emotions under control for the meantime, but she would definitely like to see her brother for herself and confirm his wellbeing. The headache isn’t giving in, though, and there is nothing Shouto would like better than lying down and waiting for a new day to come.

“Tell me, Momo,” Shouto drawls, smiling sheepishly at her, “May I ask too much of you?”

“It’s an honor to follow your orders, Your Highness.”

There’s a hint of humor in her voice, and Shouto’s smile widens slightly at that, “I can walk to my room by myself, considering we’re nearly there, and I’ll ask of you to escort Fuyumi if she wishes to visit me tonight. Touya and Natsuo as well. They have their own bodyguards, but I’d like it better if it were you. You can tell them it was a direct order.”

Shouto is the youngest sibling, which means, if any of them disregard his orders and send Momo away, she won’t have other choice. However, they do know how much he trusts her, and he can only figure they would rather do things his way for the night, considering it was his life the assassin went after in the first place.

“Oh, one more thing,” Shouto says before Momo bows, stopping her, “My father’s advisors believe we must do something about these… well, incidents. I trust you the most here, so, if you have any ideas, I’d be delighted to hear them.”

Something flashes through Momo’s face—a quick expression of realization, as if she had an idea but dismissed it only a few moments later. Shouto waits, because, if Momo establishes a conclusion, he will give it much of a thought. On the other hand, if she doesn’t, he will have to figure it out before the advisors do.

“You see, Your Highness,” Momo begins, pursing her lips, “I believe our struggle is to understand the point of view of those men. We don’t see things the way they do, which means we can’t reach an accurate conclusion, and we might never be able to. They think too differently.”

Shouto blinks, “Which means, in your opinion, we might need to find people who would be able to understand the assassins?”

“To put it simply, yes.”

“What kind of person would that be?” He asks, frowning slightly. “Would we be willing to hire an assassin as my bodyguard?”

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” Momo shakes her head firmly, “Hiring a person that’s too dangerous could jeopardize your safety, and, that, I am not willing to risk. I would suggest more on the ‘all wealth can buy’ side. Mercenaries, for example. We could find one that’s trustworthy enough to only take the money from one side and do his job properly.”

Shouto tilts his head to the side, “Would mercenaries be able to see through an assassin’s point of view?”

“It would be troublesome, but not as much as it already is. Besides, anything worse than a mercenary would could be threatening. We need the least obsessive and aggressive behavior, and, yet, we need them to be at least a little morally on the wrong side and, well, barbaric in a way.”

Barbaric. That word rings a bell in Shouto’s mind that he hadn’t thought about before. He has heard about a man before: a barbarian, as people commonly refer to him, whose fighting skills and explosive behavior frightened his enemies, but not nearly as much as his companion—a red, fire-spitting dragon. The man traveled across the world and, supposedly, did not comply to anyone’s orders. He also knew more about the other Kingdoms than Shouto could if he sent his life in the marvelous library of the castle.

“Bakugou,” Shouto remembers, watching the expression of hope on Momo’s face dissolve into a surprised one, “Isn’t that the name of the barbarian man our people seemingly talks about so often?”

“Yes,” Momo replies, speaking carefully, “But, if you’d take my opinion, I wouldn’t consider him an option, Your Highness.”

“Why not?” He asks. “He is strong and clever. He knows about the world and the people. If there is anyone reliable enough to speak on others’ behalf, it would have to be someone like him.”

“He is also incredibly difficult to trace, and even more difficult to dialogue with,” She explains, and something in the way she does causes Shouto to realize her intention is to convince him to disregard the sudden idea, “There are many unpleasant stories about him, none of them mentioning money as appeaser during his appearances. He could be more dangerous than an assassin.”

Shouto sighs, nodding slightly, and chooses not to mention he hasn’t fully been convinced yet. Momo is right—they do need someone to think outside the box, and someone so far away from the Royal Family and, in a way, even different from the rest of the people could definitely become of help.

“Thank you, Momo,” He says, smiling gently at her, “I’ll consider a mercenary. Please, do tell my siblings I’ll be in my room.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Excuse me.”

***

Touya thinks they should hire more bodyguards. Shouto dismisses the idea; says they have hired enough and soon he won’t be able to walk without bumping against them. Natsuo suggests they stay in the castle, in their protected rooms, at least until someone manages to get something out of the assassins in their prisons. Shouto dismisses it too; that, under the allegation that they would be just as many as prisoners in that scenario. Fuyumi believes Shouto should spend a few weeks at a neighbor Kingdom, taking their strongest alliances in consideration. Shouto, this time as well, dismisses it; he can’t expect the assassins not to follow him elsewhere, and, at least, while he’s in his own Kingdom, he’s in good company.

It’s nearly the end of the afternoon, and Shouto spent the entire day listening to suggestions. Luckily, his father didn’t interfere, which means it’s his choice whether he would like to handle the matter differently or not. At least, in that way, the advisors don’t get much of a say in it. All they can do is offer him ideas—ideas he’s gladly allowed to decline within seconds if he so wishes.

“Momo,” Shouto stretches out his arms once the last advisor leaves the Throne Room, waiting for her to leave her position beside the door and approach him, “I would like to talk to someone in a village nearby. Is it possible for you to escort me there?”

Momo nods as politely as possible, “Of course, Your Highness. Would you like me to inform your father?”

“I would love for you not to do that,” He says, “My father wouldn’t want to be bothered by my every step. In fact, I wouldn’t like to be bothered to tell him my every step, either. We should probably go in a moment, though. It’s almost evening and I don’t want to interrupt my acquaintance’s dinner time.”

Ever the effective one, Momo quickly escorts Shouto out of the castle, looking around more often than not, one hand always resting on the sword against her hip. Shouto takes a sword of his own, knowing that, although he isn’t half as skilled as a warrior like Momo, he is still able to hold his own in a fight.

The village isn’t far, but they take the horses in order to get there in time for Shouto not to have to hurry back home. Shouto barely nods toward the guards they ride past, trying not to let it show that he is, indeed, going out less than twenty-four hours after the attempt against his life, and with one bodyguard rather than a group of them. They did see the rest of them waiting in the hallway, but Shouto insisted that Momo distracted them so they wouldn’t come.

Shortly after, Shouto feeds the horse an apple he brought along and waits for Momo to stand behind him, always alert, before knocking on the wooden door of the simple house he came to visit. The man he means to talk to is a peasant whose mother owns a couple of lands. They met a few years ago, when Shouto decided to have a tour of the village by himself and the man offered to show him around. They haven’t talked much ever since, but the man is too much of a good person to have an assassin waiting for the Prince at his home—Shouto knows that much, at least.

“I’m coming!” The familiar voice exclaims, and Shouto hears the sound of footsteps hurriedly approaching the door, “I’m coming, I’m almost there, I’m—oh. Your Highness.”

“Good afternoon, Midoriya.”

Green-haired, with large round eyes of a similar shade and a set of freckles dancing on his cheeks, Midoriya Izuku looks the same he did months ago. He also shows the same reaction he did the last time Shouto needed to talk to him; all wide eyes and mouth open with surprise. He bows so quickly and exaggeratedly Shouto worries he might hurt himself.

“It’s been a while,” Shouto says, “I want to talk to you about something. I hope I’m not interrupting you in the middle of anything important.”

“Absolutely not,” Midoriya waves his arms in front of Shouto, ever the enthusiastic, and bows again—though less aggressively this time—when he sees Momo standing behind the Prince, “Hello. I’m Midoriya Izuku.”

Momo smiles sympathetically, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Midoriya. I’m Yaoyorozu Momo and I’m here as Prince Shouto’s bodyguard.”

“Momo is my friend,” Shouto adds, “Therefore, everything I have to say to you, she can hear it too. Of course, that depends on whether you also agree with it.”

“Of course!” Midoriya smiles, stepping aside and awkwardly brushing some dust off the hem of his clothes, “Come in, please. My mom is out for the week and I was making myself dinner just now. Would you like to join me? I mean, it’s no Royal Banquet, but I’m not that much of a terrible cook these days.”

Shouto exchanges a quick amused glance with Momo and nods, “Thank you, Midoriya. We will join you.”

Midoriya guides them to the small kitchen, gesturing for them to find a seat around the table as he grabs a spatula and mixes the food in the pot, which Shouto supposes might be a vegetable soup, if the scent is any indication. Grabbing three bowls hurriedly and confirming Shouto’s recent suspicious by pouring the soup into them, Midoriya turns back to the table and carefully places each recipient on its spot. He spreads the cutlery set before them and bows—again—before claiming his place in the last available chair.

“I suppose the people spread the word about the incident from last night,” Shouto begins, catching the spoon and mixing the vegetables in his bowl a bit. Midoriya nods shortly, as if he’s frightened that his enthusiastic gestures are not fit for dinner with the Prince and his bodyguard.

“We heard one thing or two about it,” He says, “There was an assassin, sent there to take your life, Your Highness, but the bodyguards stopped him before he had the chance. The people and the guards went through some questioning from some of the King’s most trustworthy men and were sent home right after.”

Shouto hums, sipping the soup. It’s a bit bitter, but he doesn’t intend to make any remarks on it. Instead, he says, “That seems more like ‘the entire story’ rather than a thing or two, Midoriya.”

Midoriya flushes from his neck to the entirety of his face, “It was mostly ‘one thing or two’ from each person I heard it from, actually. I had to puzzle the pieces together.”

That’s not the first nor the second time Midoriya did that, and, if Shouto’s being honest, that’s precisely what he wanted to hear. Although Midoriya’s company is enjoyable, the Prince wouldn’t endanger himself by sneaking out of the castle and meeting him for the pleasure of it alone. The reason he thought of this person before anyone else is the skilled manner Midoriya goes through facts—and, even more than that, the speed in which he gathers said facts.

“May I ask a favor of you?” Shouto asks, watching the way Midoriya’s eyes widen. Momo watches Shouto with a curious expression.

“Yes, of course, Your Highness.”

“Enlighten me on a legend,” He begins, taking one more sip, “Have you also ever heard of Bakugou, the barbarian?”

Midoriya’s reaction isn’t quite what Shouto predicted. Instead of appearing to be surprised, the way Momo did, he looks somewhere between scared and hesitant to answer. It is the first time Shouto has asked him a question and gotten such a reaction, so he waits patiently for the man to speak again.

“Yes,” Midoriya drawls, “I have.”

Shouto blinks, “And?”

“Well, um, I don’t understand exactly what you’re asking me, Your Highness.”

“What do you know about him?” Shouto asks, frowning slightly, “What is there to know?”

“Bakugou, the barbarian,” Midoriya begins, and, by the way he says it, it appears that the name sounds foreign to him, “There are common knowledge things about him. He responds to no one, he has a fire-spitting dragon for a companion, he travels around the world and does as he wishes. Some say he’s a mercenary, some say he’s a thief, but there is no agreement as to how he spends his days.”

The Prince abandons the spoon over the bowl and leans forward without noticing, “Anything else?”

There is something else. He can’t tell what it is, but he can tell that there is. It’s about the way Midoriya looks around rather than directly into his eyes as he speaks, the way his excited tone from when he talks about the things he know isn’t there at all. Something in the way he seems to be keeping things for himself.

“If you’ll let me, Your Highness,” Momo begins, drawing Shouto’s attention, and he quickly realizes she is asking for permission to speak to Midoriya herself. He allows it with a gesture of his head. “Midoriya, the reason we need to know about this is that we are searching for someone clever enough to comprehend the intentions behind the assassins’ attacks. We don’t want to get anyone in any trouble. All we wish for is that we find a way to secure Prince Shouto’s safety.”

Midoriya sighs, nodding as he switches his attention from Momo to Shouto.

“I know him. In person, that is,” He states, pressing his mouth in a flat line at the way Shouto’s eyes widen, “His full name is Bakugou Katsuki. I have known him since we were children, before he was the famous barbarian. He is neither a mercenary nor a thief. Most of the rumors are false.”

Shouto frowns harder, “Which ones aren’t?”

“The dragon accompanying him, for one,” Midoriya says, “His temper and poor behavior, too. Although those aren’t as terrible as people make it seem. Kacchan—”

“Kacchan?”

Again, Midoriya stops, flushing and shaking his head, “I meant Katsuki.”

“You call him a nickname?” Momo asks, probably as startled as Shouto, he realizes at the notice that she didn’t ask for his permission to talk this time. Shouto can’t blame her. When he thought about asking Midoriya, it was his idea to hear about the most common theories about the barbarian—not in a million years could he have predicted that he would be talking to one of the barbarian’s friends.

“I suppose this means the barbarian isn’t as bad as popularly believed?” Shouto tries.

“Oh, not at all, Your Highness,” Midoriya says, and he sounds honest, “Katsuki is very difficult to talk to at first, and his explosive personality is far from easy to handle, but he’s a good person. That, I assure you.”

Slightly taken aback by the surprise, Shouto asks, “Does that mean there’s a possibility of reaching out to him?”

Midoriya blinks, “Well, yes, of course… but, if I’m being fully honest, I’m not sure he would respond. Like I said, Katsuki receives orders from no one. He likes to think of himself as a free person and, with all due respect, the fact that it is a Prince looking for him might not be enough to convince him.”

“What about a reward?”

“Katsuki thinks wealth is unnecessary,” Midoriya rubs his neck, seemingly apologetic, “He doesn’t need much, but there are things he does that are enough to gain some gold. I’m not sure what those things are, but I can assure you, they’re not bad or immoral at all.”

Shouto doesn’t mention that it isn’t Midoriya’s place to judge—as the barbarian’s friend, he would obviously tend to believe he does things properly and doesn’t hurt anyone in the process. If he doesn’t need the gold, though, Shouto might have to think of something truly worth bringing a dragon to the Kingdom and acting as the Prince’s bodyguard and private investigator for a couple of days.

“What if it were a favor?” Momo suggests, hesitantly, and Midoriya’s eyes fall back on her, “For a friend of his?”

Understanding flashes in Shouto’s mind and he looks back at Midoriya, “I could reward you, Midoriya. You would be known as the man who avoided the Prince’s assassination. If your friend wishes not to be given credit for it, we could not let anyone know.”

For a moment, Shouto thinks Midoriya might agree to it. His eyes shift between the Prince and the bodyguard, however, before he speaks, a defeated sigh escapes his lips first, “I apologize, Your Highness, but I don’t think that would be effective. I know I said we have known each other since childhood, but that’s the extent of it. We are friends, somehow, but I doubt he would work for the Prince as a favor for me.”

Shouto attempts not to let his disappointment show, but it’s inevitable. He hoped he would return to the castle with a positive answer and be able to dismiss the advisors’… well, advices. Unfortunately, it appears that, rather than that, he will be forced to admit defeat and allow them to protect him as they please.

“If there’s anything else I can help with,” Midoriya begins, voice low as he looks down at his fists over his lap, “Please, don’t hesitate to tell me, Your Highness.”

Placing a comforting hand on Midoriya’s shoulder and forcing a smile, Shouto nods, “Thank you, Midoriya, but, for now, we should leave.”

He looks at Momo, sighs at her saddened expression and gets up from his seat.

***

Although Touya is the oldest brother and natural successor, it’s Natsuo’s idea the advisors vote for—which means Shouto must stay locked up in his room until further notice and hope that the guards who weren’t even able to spot the assassin at the ball will be able to find him in the city.

There are two doors that grant access to Shouto’s massive room, and there are six guards watching over each one of them. There are people to bring the food and the change of clothes, blankets and pillows. The bathroom is connected directly to the room, so Shouto doesn’t have any reason at all to be escorted out. He is even forbidden from going out to talk to his siblings—and, for at least a month, they are forbidden from coming in to talk to him.

In Shouto’s humblest opinion, it couldn’t get any worse than this.

It’s two weeks into the isolation that he reaches the peak of truly detesting it. He knows Natsuo had the best of intentions when he made that suggestion, but at least his broghter is allowed out of the room for a couple of minutes thorough the day in the meantime. Shouto isn’t. This is supposed to be maddening.

Momo checks on him every few hours. That was the one demand he made, and they took into consideration—that, if the guards had to keep an eye on him, it would be Momo to lead them. She tries cheering him up, but it barely works. The one thing genuinely capable of cheering him up would be a way out of the room.

It’s the evening, and Shouto is waiting for dinner while walking around the room most impatiently, when Momo practically storms in, eyes wide, shoulders tense, and Shouto knows he might regret wishing for a reason to leave for so many hours.

“Your Highness,” She begins, pressing her lips into a thin line, “We have a problem.”

Shouto blinks, “Tell me.”

“We got an urgent letter over two hours ago,” Momo says, seemingly trying to speak as clearly as possible, “It was addressed to you, but the advisors insisted on opening and reading it themselves. It said… well, it said it was from man who had ‘failed four times, but no more’.”

He runs his lips along his dry bottom lip, “The man behind the assassins.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“What did he say?”

“Someone followed us when we went to visit Midoriya,” She says, and Shouto’s entire body freezes, “They have him, Your Highness. We sent our knights to confirm it with his mother, and it’s true. He disappeared a week ago, after saying he was off to buy vegetables nearby.”

Shouto attempts to push down his sudden agitation and asks, “Do they demand a rescue? How much gold are they asking for?”

“They’re not asking for gold,” Momo stops, inhaling deeply, “They’re asking for you, Your Highness. They want you to go to them in person within two weeks, or they’ll take Midoriya somewhere far away.”

Clever, Shouto thinks as realization sinks in. The last times the assassins went after him, it was him only they targeted, and he believed they could make it through the trouble as long as no one else got involved. Eventually, they would get rid of the attackers and be at ease again. Now, though, it isn’t simply about him; even if he is only a peasant in the eyes of the rest of the castle, Midoriya is still a person—a person who was more than willing to help Shouto when he went to ask for it.

Shouto swallows thickly, “Did my father say anything?”

“His Majesty locked himself up with the advisors fifteen minutes ago,” Momo communicates, “He also ordered you not to be imprudent. It was heavily implied that you are not to leave this room yet.”

“My father can’t expect me to sit around and do nothing,” Shouto argues, although he knows Momo has nothing to do with his father’s ever-so-infuriating decisions, “We have to move, Momo. These people won’t think twice before hurting Midoriya. This is my responsibility.”

“I know, Your Highness,” Momo sighs, “But what can we do? All we have is a letter, the address they sent and the King’s orders. I understand you would like to do it by yourself, and I would gladly help you if I thought for a moment that we alone would be enough to defeat them.”

Shouto shakes his head, “My father will send his men to the address. He will do things his way and Midoriya will get hurt and… Momo, it will be my fault.”

“Your Highness, it isn’t—”

“Yes, it is,” He pauses, rubbing his face with his hands. As a Prince, he should have known better. He thought he was safe going out with Momo only because they would be enough to fight if it was needed, but he didn’t consider that he would lead the assassins to someone they could use against him. “Momo, I need to ask a big favor of you.”

Momo hurriedly nods, “Of course.”

“I need you to escort me to my father’s meeting room.”

She pauses, hesitant, “I have no complaints, Your Highness, but the King gave the rest of the guards instructions not to let you out. If we’d like to go that far, I don’t think we would be able to make it there without a fight. In fact, I believe I would have to stay behind and hold them, and you would have to proceed on your own.”

“And would that be a problem for you?”

Momo stops, eyes meeting Shouto’s determined ones, and she shakes her head as firmly as possible.

“Not at all, Your Highness.”

“Well, then,” Shouto steps forward, reaches for the sword he left near the entrance of his room and removes it from its case. It’s sharp and elegant, the way any Prince would like it. Momo’s own hand is resting on her sword’s pommel in no time, and she looks the same way she does when there’s a battle—utterly ready to go. “Lead the way.”

The moment Momo opens the door, aiming not to waste any of their time, she hits one of the guards on the nape with the pommel of her sword. That, of course, effectively draws the eyes and the swords of the rest of them. Shouto steps closer to her, pointing his own weapon at them, and the fearful thought that they might have to fight their Prince seems to settle down quickly as their eyes widen and they hesitate.

“Your Highness,” One of the them begins, voice suddenly trembling, “We need to ask you not to leave this room.”

Shouto inhales, “I order you to drop your swords, guards.”

He knows that won’t work—obviously, they respond to his father first, to his mother second and to Touya third. They don’t respond to him, not at all, unless he is the only family member present and capable of giving orders at the moment. Even so, his tone appears to make them falter for a few moments, and that is all he needs to swing his sword and knock the shield off the hands of the guard closer to him. Momo takes the cue, lowering her body as she spins and stretches out a leg, causing another one to stumble and fall.

“Run for it,” Momo says, nodding at him, “I’ll prevent them from following you.”

Shouto begins nodding as well, but a sudden sword sing right before his eyes startles him enough to stumble back. The guard that separates them seems to not be fully sure of her position, as it’s proven by the way she simply shows her back to Momo, pointing the sword at Shouto, and tightens her grip around the handle.

“Listen to His Majesty’s orders, Your Highness,” She pleads, “He only wishes to protect you. He knows best.”

A sudden rush of annoyance makes its way down Shouto’s entire body, but he attempts to push it aside and focus on the issue at hand instead. Moving his feet away from each other and assuming a fighting position, he shakes his head, “I don’t need his protection, and neither do I need yours.”

Shouto puts emphasis on his words by swinging the sword in her direction, aiming at the blade, but losing his balance slightly and cutting through air instead. The guard takes the opportunity to surge forward, bringing down her weapon and making the pommel collide with Shouto’s back. He falls on his stomach and coughs hard, but the clear panic on the woman’s face at the idea of hurting the Prince is hesitance enough for him to spin his sword, hooking the hilt on her leg and pulling. He thinks he might need more than that to stop her, however, moments later, there is a sudden blade hovering above her neck, and Shouto looks up to find Momo standing there, breathing heavily, with a cut across her cheek, but confident as always.

He looks around and find that the other guards are now on the ground. Nearly all of them are still conscious, though, and they are already beginning to stand up again.

“Go, Your Highness,” Momo says, stretching her arm and helping him up. Shouto barely has the opportunity to check on her before she’s back at their necks, and he wouldn’t leave if he thought there was a chance they would reach him, but he believes there is no one better than Yaoyorozu Momo to have his back.

Keeping up the tight grip around the handle of his sword, Shouto runs as fast as humanly possible toward his father’s meeting room. He means no insolence, but this isn’t about the kingdom, nor does it concern the King more than it does him. This is about a person who tried to help him and got dragged into the mess it is to be part of the Prince’s crew. As the Prince, it will be him to fix things up.

There are two guards standing on each side of the door. Shouto hides from them for a few moments, takes a few deep breaths to ready himself and sprints towards the room, not at all minding the way they suddenly snap into reality and realize what’s about to happen. By the time one of them manages to grab his forearm and pull him backward, he already managed to hit the door aggressively with his foot, slamming it open.

The long table is filled with people—advisers, high-ranked knights, a few random nobles and, at the center, the King. Shouto breathes in heavily at the way each and every eye on that room falls on him, the disapproval distorted lips and the annoyed noises reaching him within seconds.

He came all the way here. Now, he needs to compromise.

“What is the plan?” Shouto asks, staring directly at his father. “What will we do to get him back?”

“Shouto, return to your room.”

“No,” He grits his teeth, pushing one of the guards away from him as he attempts to pull him away from the room. Shouto points his sword at the four guards, squinting hard and looking above his shoulder in order to glare at the King one more time. “It was my fault that they found and captured him. I owe him this rescue.”

“This is no matter for you to settle—”

“It is of my concern much more than it is of yours,” Shouto strikes back, “He might be a commoner, but he’s someone I cherish.”

The King sighs, heavy and annoyed. Shouto doesn’t falter at all. The days when the simple thought of standing up to the King would be terrifying to any of his children are now gone. If Shouto, as the youngest and the least likely to take over the throne, has to take it upon himself to be the first one to lose his manners, then so be it.

“Let me make something clear, father,” Shouto begins, “It’s either you include me in this decision, or I will make my own. With or without your help and support, I will get Midoriya back.”

The King squints, “How insolent—”

“Your Majesty!” A new guard, running towards the room with widened eyes and a red face causes Shouto to take a step back, in position, just in case. The man doesn’t seem interested in his presence, though. He supports his arms on the open doors of the meeting room and breathes—and even that seems to be difficult, as if he just ran through the entire castle. “Your Majesty, this is urgent! There is—there is a man, and he has a monster with him—”

“A monster?” Shouto asks, blinking.

The guard barely acknowledges him, nodding with hurry, “Yes, a monster. It’s gigantic and it’s red and—”

“Do you mean a dragon?”

Before the man has the opportunity to answer, the deafening sound of a roar resounds through the floor, and Shouto’s fingers around the handle of his sword tighten painfully. There’s also another sound, following right after, and Shouto dreadfully recognizes it as the flap of enormous wings, right outside the castle, getting closer each second. The archers are too far away, and the few swords on that room could never be enough to handle a creature such as a dragon—which, for someone cynical people, wasn’t even supposed to exist outside books.

Shouto inhales deeply and waits. He hears it approaching at an unreal speed, as if it were big enough to cover the entire castle in a couple of moments only. He does believe part of that might be his mind overreacting due to the sudden shock of having a creature moving so quickly towards him, but he doesn’t have the time to overthink the tricks his mind could possibly be playing on him. He has to think of a way to defend himself, and he has to do it immediately.

When he sees it—the dragon, not as huge as his mind projected, but still tremendously big even when looking at it from the windows—it is not the creature he instantly lays his eyes on, but the blonde man standing right on top of the dragon’s head, maintaining his balance by doing nothing but hold one of the horns with only one hand. He’s wearing nothing but pants and lots of accessories—from multiple threatening-looking necklaces to orange sleeves to a red cape with a fur-looking detail on top. His eyes are bright red.

From the legends, it doesn’t take a genius to recognize the man. Shouto puts two and two together pretty fast, though.

There he is, the barbarian himself—Bakugou Katsuki.

“I’ll give you three seconds,” Bakugou begins, and his voice sounds loud, less deep than expected and enraged, “Bring me the prince and I won’t burn anyone’s asses today!”

Shouto freezes for a few moments, letting the realization that the alleged most dangerous man in who-knows-how-many-realms is looking for him, but he snaps back into reality at the feeling of hands grabbing his forearms and pulling him back. The guards. They are trying to get him out of there, away from the barbarian, but they only manage to attract his attention directly to them. Bakugou’s expression dissolves into one of his realization and he smiles the kind of smile no one likes to have directed at them.

“There he is. Your royal cowardness,” Bakugou points at him, and, by the way the dragon’s eyes follow the movement, Shouto decides that’s enough for any creature to recognize who he is, “Forgive the insolence and all of that basic protocol bullshit, but I’m here to pick you up.”

Surprisingly enough, he jumps from his spot on top of the dragon, and shatters the window in a million pieces as he lands on the hallway, retrieving a sword with enough agility to match their best knight. Shouto begins opening his mouth in an attempt to tell the guards not to try anything, but it’s too late by the time he unfreezes from his shock. If seeing Momo’s fighting style is pleasant to the eyes, seeing Bakugou’s fighting style can be either a marvelous experience—for anyone who could possibly become his ally—or an awfully vivid eyesore—for anyone, really, who would ever dare to oppose to him.

He takes down the guards easily, and, by the time Shouto imagines more of them begin to arrive from other sides of the hallway, it’s too late. Bakugou stops before Shouto, and the fact that he’s shorter than the Prince doesn’t lessen the intimidation factor in his features. He pauses, for a moment only, and squints hard.

“You dragged Deku into this mess,” He says, gritting his teeth, “Now, you’ll get him out.”

Shouto’s eyes widen, “Deku? Who’s—”

He gets interrupted when a heavy and imponent-looking sword swings in the space between them. Bakugou leaps backwards easily, as if he were waiting for it, and looks up with a frown as the King’s personal knight, a buff man that’d be quite plain-looking, weren’t it for his remarkable sword skills and his non-restraints when it comes to violence.

“What,” Bakugou grins, and it’s rather humorless and aggressive, “Think you’ll beat me? Think anyone ever has?”

The knight swings forward again, and, one more time, Bakugou dodges it. He then moves to the side, spins his sword in his hands and swings toward the knight while holding it by its guard—with its blade pointing towards himself. He successfully hits the knight on the stomach with the pommel, causing him to bend over for only a few moments, coughing. Bakugou takes the opportunity and jumps, hitting the man’s nape with the pommel this time. He falls forward, on his knees, and Bakugou, looking completely unfazed, spins the sword again, this time pointing its blade to the knight’s throat.

And, just like that, the King’s best loses.

“Deku,” Bakugou says again, and his cocky expression quickly dissolves into annoyance when he looks back at Shouto. Shouto reminds himself then not to show how impressed and obviously scared he is, but he believes it might be too late, “Also known as Midoriya Izuku, you weakling.”

Shouto blinks, stunned with surprise. When Midoriya told him he was only childhood friends with Bakugou Katsuki and that was the extent of their relationship, he believed him. Now, here is the barbarian himself, defeating the castle’s guards, demanding that the Prince comes with him—and all of that, for Midoriya.

Either Midoriya lied to him or he needs to have some more faith in his friend.

Regardless of that, Shouto knows what he has to do. He clears his throat, shoves his fear deep into his mind and inhales deeply before asking, “What are your intentions? How do you suppose you can rescue him?”

“Is it not obvious?” Bakugou squints, rolling his eyes, “They asked for a trade. They’ll give him back as soon as they have you. So, what do you think must be done?”

Shouto doesn’t ask him how he knows that—not only because he’s still considering whether he’s brave enough to face the man who defeat his father’s favorite fighter or not, but also because, right now, he can hear the sounds of armors getting closer and closer. The guards are coming. And, supposing they outpower Bakugou and manage to detain him, there is still the matter of the huge, fire-spitting fire right outside the window.

He’s the Prince. It’s his responsibility to make sure no one else gets hurt—not the guards, not the innocent commoner who only ever intended to help.

“You don’t have to hurt anyone here. I’ll come with you regardless,” Shouto says, breathing in.

Bakugou grins—and Shouto decides that, yes, Momo was right. This man would never submit to the orders of a Prince, not even to the order of a King, regardless of how much gold and how much honor they would be able to gift him in return. This man is only moved by what’s important to him; which, right now, appears to be a category Midoriya fits in. And Shouto put Midoriya in danger.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happens next.

“How… do we leave?” Shouto asks, swallowing thickly.

“How do you think, Your Highness?” Bakugou tightens his grip on the sword as the knight inches slightly forward, “Can you not see the dragon waiting outside? Is he too small?”

Shouto blinks, “And how do I get on the dragon?”

Bakugou, one more time, grins.

***

It’s, to say the least, a bumpy ride.

Shouto truly wonders whether it is truly always like that or if that’s only the barbarian’s courtesy ride to Prince Shouto, the, to quote him, “your royal cowardness” himself.

There aren’t many things Shouto can hold on to while attempting to sit on the dragon’s back. There are scales, of course, but he has no idea which ones he can touch and grab without hurting the creature, and that is the last thing he wants to do right now. Not only because enraging the creature he’s taking a ride with isn’t the wisest idea, but also because he is aware that this is mostly his fault. It was his imprudence that brought him here.

“If you fall off,” Bakugou begins, clicking his tongue, “I’ll drag the rest of you to them. I don’t care.”

Shouto breathes in, trying not to move and not do anything stupid. Bakugou watches him, the apparently ever-so-annoyed look still on his face, and Shouto wonders how someone like Midoriya Izuku managed to become friends with this person. Even if they were childhood friends, when they grew up, it would’ve been natural for them to fall apart.

“So,” Shouto looks up, observing so that he knows whether the angry red eyes look angrier when he speaks, “How did you know about Midoriya?”

“Auntie told me,” Bakugou says, and Shouto realizes, a few seconds too late, that ‘auntie’ is supposed to be Midoriya’s mother, “She knew you self-centered people wouldn’t do shit to help Deku, so she had to go somewhere she could trust. Also, little prince, this is an eight-day trip, and it would really make it phenomenally easier for me not to have Kirishima here burn you to the ground if you would just shut up.”

The dragon has a name, Kirishima. Midoriya’s mother has ways to get in touch with the barbarian in a short notice, which means Midoriya also does—but chose not to, for some reason, when Shouto requested him to. Now, Shouto doesn’t judge him for making that decision. He was probably caring for the Prince’s health, after all.

Also, shut up is something he has to do now, even if he would like to ask Bakugou why it would be an eight-day trip if it’s only been a week since Midoriya was captured in the first place and they’re currently in a very fast dragon. Still, though, he should shut up.

Absolutely fantastic.

Shouto battles himself inside his mind for hours after that. When day becomes night, he begins wondering how is he supposed to sleep on that, and then he realizes it might not matter at all. In eight days, Bakugou will turn him over to the men who have been attempting to take his life for a while now. It won’t matter whether he had any sleep or not.

He made the right decision, though. Saving Midoriya, saving the guards. It is the right decision.

Which doesn’t make it any less dreadful.

He sighs, side-eyeing Bakugou for a few moments. He’s still standing on his seemingly preferred spot, carefully holding the dragon’s horn while looking around. There is a bag close to his feet. Meanwhile, Shouto attempts not to slide to the side too much, unless he would like the flap of wings to send him flying any moment now.

He then sees Bakugou crouching down and patting the space between the dragon’s eyes. It appears to be a message for something, but, for a few moments, nothing happens. Shouto begins thinking Bakugou might have to tell the dragon whatever it is that he meant one more time, but, then, all of sudden, they descend.

It isn’t fast enough that Shouto doesn’t manage to grab one of the scales and steady himself, but it’s almost that. Bakugou doesn’t seem troubled at all, though. He doesn’t even seem to tighten his grip while they practically fall down the sky, receiving the wind’s merciless whips on their clothes and skin.

Once they land, Bakugou confidently jumps from the dragon, and Shouto briefly wonders what he is supposed to do.  

“No one’s coming to help you down there, Your Highness,” Bakugou says, and Shouto looks down to find him standing a few meters away already. His tone drips poison at the words ‘Your Highness’.

He takes as his cue and, struggling a bit, manages to get off the dragon. His feet crush the grass underneath his boots and sighs, looking around in order to try to figure out where they are. It isn’t quite familiar, if he’s being honest. As the Prince, he only ever had the opportunity to go exploring a few times, with Momo escorting him, and he’s absolutely sure he has never gone this far before.

Shouto begins stepping away from the dragon—not only because he’s hesitant when it comes to hanging around the creature too much, but also because he doesn’t think the creature particularly wants him near either. He’s in the middle of supporting his back on a tree and lowering himself to the ground—wondering how hard it would be for his pampered-self, used to falling asleep in the best of beds through his entire life, to get any sleep there—when he sees smoke coming from underneath the dragon’s body. He freezes, thinking for a moment that there’s something wrong and he should probably tell the barbarian that his dragon began dissolving or something like it, but then he realizes Bakugou is throwing some supplies he must’ve carried in the bag on the ground, casually standing there and not minding his dragon at all.

Soon enough, the smoke covers the entirety of the dragon’s body, and Shouto subtly brings his sleeve up to his nose, wondering what are the odds that it’s going to be something toxic or dangerous to his health at all. Then again, he doubts it could ever be worse than what’s coming once he’s turned over to the assassins.

He’s still thinking that, not quite processing the whole thing yet, when the smoke dissipates. He expects to see the dragon again, but, instead, he sees a man—spikily redhead, wearing a sleeveless armor, a red scarf around his neck and a red sword coming out of a long sheath. The man stretches out his arms, as if he had been asleep for a while, and his eyes fall on Shouto. When he smiles, his teeth are shark-like.

“I apologize for not introducing myself properly earlier,” He says, and, surprisingly, his voice sounds somewhat friendly. Not that it quite matters, seeing that Shouto is still letting it sink in that they’ve been flying around all day on a shapeshifter. “I’m Kirishima. The dragon.”

“Hey, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou calls, drawing their eyes to him, “If you have time to hang out with royalty, come here and get the bonfire ready yourself. It’s enough that I have to do everything when you’re in that form.”

“Very much not true,” Kirishima complains, raising one finger and looking absolutely unbothered, “I’ve been flying all day. I’m tired, Bakugou. Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

“Not at all. Do this shit already.”

Shouto observes them for afar for a while, letting it sink in that, not only does the barbarian has a friend, but that friend is his dragon—a shapeshifter, for the sake of everything that is good—and looks rather friendly when compared to Bakugou Katsuki himself. Kirishima doesn’t appear to be the kind of person who would fly around the world, terrifying innocent people and establishing his name as a legend who spits fire. Then again, Midoriya Izuku doesn’t quite look like a man who would befriend people like that either, and, yet, here they are.

A cold freeze dances around them and Shouto tightens his grip on his own arms, hissing lowly. The bonfire is set, and Bakugou and Kirishima are sitting around it, suddenly talking with enthusiastic gestures, but Shouto doesn’t suppose he could find a way to get closer and claim some of the heat to himself. Momo believed looking for Bakugou would have been a bad idea, and Shouto thinks she might have predicted this—his lack of care for the Prince’s wellbeing, when, back at the castle, people were at least constantly pretending to be there to grant his every wish.

“The pieces of shit are using some of that dark sorcery we heard about in the last village to get as far away as soon as possible,” Bakugou tells Kirishima, but it’s loud enough that Shouto can’t help but catch it, “I know it’s shitty, but you have to be faster than you are right now. If we can shorten the trip, we can get Deku out of there quicker.”

Kirishima nods firmly, “I thought so. I got quite some rest before we left, and now I’m good to go! We can’t waste time, if we want find Midoriya safe and sound.”

“We will” Bakugou begins, and his tone is suddenly low and serious “find Deku safe and sound.”

Shouto squints, leaning back and resting the back of his head on the tree. Midoriya has to have lied to him. He couldn’t possibly not know that his childhood friend still cares this much about him—not when he’s willing to break into the castle, drag the Prince out and force his friend to travel faster than he already does in order to get to him safe.

“Here,” Bakugou pulls the backpack he had with him and takes a few packages out. When he unwraps them, Shouto’s empty stomach immediately recognizes the scent of food. He hands one to Kirishima and pulls one to himself. Shouto is beginning to wonder whether he will be able to spend the next eight days starving and still be whole by the time they hand him over to the assassins when Bakugou suddenly throws something to him. Distracted, Shouto blinks as if falls on the grass right in front of his feet. Bakugou clicks his tongue in annoyance. “What, too good for commoner food?”

Shouto clears his throat, tucking the package closer to him, “Thank you.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

“I didn’t—” Shouto begins, looking down at his hands and frowning, “I didn’t mean to put Midoriya in danger. I’m aware it probably isn’t relevant to either of you to hear this, but, if I’m going to be handed over to the assassins, I won’t have the time to tell him in person. I am deeply sorry that he was dragged into this.”

Kirishima opens his mouth, apparently ready to say something that doesn’t look like it’ll be quite as harsh as it could, but Bakugou interrupts him, squinting hard at Shouto and saying, “What am I supposed to tell him, huh? That the brilliant Prince thought he would go to a commoner’s house right after nearly being assassinated for the, what, fourth time? And then he would go home, to his castle full of guards, and it didn’t occur to him that someone would follow his coward ass to the commoner’s house and have him become their hostage.”

It’s Shouto’s turn to squint, “You absolutely do not have to put it like that.”

“You’re not in the castle anymore, Your Highness,” Bakugou says, “You don’t call the shots around here. I’ll talk however I’d like, and you’ll hear it. And Deku isn’t hearing shit from you. He’s going through enough already.”

“I’m good to go back flying now,” Kirishima cuts in before Shouto manages to even open his mouth to strike back—which might not be an excellent idea, but it’s been an exhausting day and he feels like garbage at the moment, “I’ve had enough sleep in the past few days, too, so I don’t think we have to stop for much longer than this for at least two more days.”

Bakugou clicks his tongue, “Bullshit. We’re sleeping tomorrow, but, if you’re good now, we’ll take off.”

He sends Shouto one less pointed look, and the Prince takes that as his cue to fall into silence for the rest of the foreseeable future.

***

It’s been over twenty hours now, since they left.

Shouto wonders if Momo is doing well.

Helping the Prince out of his room when the King’s direct orders were for him to stay in there mustn’t be something easy to slip away from. If only Shouto had managed to help her, ease the burden before leaving, he wouldn’t have to worry so much. Momo might be one of their best warriors, but he doubts his father will allow that to surpass the fact that she went against his unreasonable, selfish orders.

He also wonders about his siblings and his mother. He didn’t want to leave them behind, especially in a situation like that, but he had to do what was right. That’s what he knew, deep in his right, and that was the reason why they didn’t quite cross his mind at the moment he made the decision to willingly come with the barbarian. Now, though, he has plenty of time and thoughts on his hands, and he finds that he should’ve at least found a way to say goodbye.

“We’re stopping earlier and sleeping now. Traveling at night at the moment might be best,” Bakugou says, patting the space between Kirishima’s eyes like he did last night, “Let’s go.”

The castle must be a mess at the moment. Todoroki Enji is a stubborn man who refuses to take a hit, refuses to go down and, above everything, refuses to lose. He won’t accept the loss, rather than he won’t accept Shouto being taken away, and Bakugou might actually be right. The same way the assassins found a way to travel faster, so can the King and his loyal advisors. If they are to look for the dragon, nighttime might be their greatest ally.

“We’ll take turns sleeping,” Bakugou announces once Shouto hardly manages to hop off Kirishima’s back, “Not you, of course, being a useless royal and everything. Take the freaking great opportunity to sleep while we’re on the ground. Mustn’t be too easy for you, but it won’t be harder than sleeping on a flying dragon.”

Shouto swallows, nodding and sighing, “Alright.”

“There’s food, too. I’ll toss it to you in a minute, so sit and wait.”

Another sigh, “Alright.”

It isn’t, indeed, easy. Shouto eats the food Bakugou gives him, surprisingly not finding it in him to be the Prince that judges the taste of his food based on anything but the fact that it’s not letting him starve, and then he lays down on the ground and looks up at the sky. He promised Fuyumi he would help her sneak into the kitchen—taking into consideration that, as the royal family, they were not allowed to work on commoner’s jobs, or even pretend they did—and bake him a cake only a few weeks ago. It was the assassination attempt that interrupted it, at first, and now…

Now he doesn’t think he’ll be able to fulfill that promise at all.

Kirishima went to sleep at the same time as he did, which was, according to his calculations, over an hour ago. The shapeshifter seems to have found comfort in the grass and the peaceful breeze dancing around them. Shouto, on the other hand, hasn’t gotten a single drop of sleep.

He’s shifting his position from time to time in multiple worthless attempts to get some rest, but, somehow, this seems even harder than he thought it would be.

Natsuo was going to take him to a festival in a week. It will happen in their neighbor city, which is also part of their realm, and Shouto considered having Momo scout him so she could be there too. They were going to take many guards with them, especially considering there would be two members of the royal family to watch over. Shouto knew it would be annoying, but he would be with his brother. Nothing could go that wrong.

Bakugou is carrying a few water canteens with them. It seems they are nearly empty, though, and Shouto hasn’t drank much. He tried to keep it to a minimum in order not to irritate the barbarian or his dragon.

Shouto thinks he hears Bakugou clearing his throat, but, with an arm thrown over his eye, he ignores it.

There was Touya, too. As the oldest, there were many things he wanted to discuss with Shouto. Even if he was the only rightful heir to the throne, he wants every single one of his siblings to have a worthy position and to rule the kingdom alongside him. The King is against it—as he always is against everything that doesn’t directly benefit it—but Touya doesn’t pay him any mind at this point. He’s an inspiration to Shouto in every way.

Shouto hopes he isn’t disappointed in him.

“Hey, Shitty Hair,” Shouto hears Bakugou calling and removes his arm to side-eye them. Kirishima is groaning, trying to curl himself in the form of a ball and not have to listen to the barbarian’s voice. Bakugou clicks his tongue, “This isn’t the time for laziness. We’re out of water, I need you to stay up and watch our stuff while I go get it.”

Kirishima sighs loudly, “I’m… so sleepy. I still have time to sleep, Bakugou. Can’t we do that later?”

“No.”

“Let me do it.”

Bakugou nearly snaps his neck as he turns to stare at Shouto, squinting. Kirishima also looks at him, although it’s much less hostile and ill-intended.

“I will get the water,” Shouto clarifies, “Just… give me the water canteens.”

Bakugou crosses his arms, “No.”

Resisting the urge to click his tongue, Shouto moves to a sitting position, “I am saying I can do it. I haven’t gotten any sleep and I don’t think I will, so what’s the harm?”

“I’m not worried about your sleeping schedule, Your Highness,” Bakugou spits out, “I’m not letting you walk away freely. What makes you think either of us have any reason to trust you? There would be nothing stopping you from running away, and I’m not taking that risk. I don’t trust royalty.”

Shouto begins opening his mouth, ready to say something in his defense as annoyance creeps up his neck, but it’s Kirishima who speaks next, “I don’t know, Bakugou. It might not be that deep.”

Bakugou glares at him, “Say that again.”

“He came willingly, didn’t he?” Kirishima shrugs, “This isn’t a kidnapping, man. We’re taking him to those guys because he seemed pretty okay with coming in the first place. I think it’s like he said, he didn’t mean for Midoriya to be caught up in the middle of this. Why don’t we give him the benefit of the doubt?”

“Because I won’t put Deku’s life at risk for the stupid Prince to feel like he deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

“I already put Midoriya’s life at risk, Bakugou,” Shouto says, and then he gets up. Bakugou turns fully at him, as if expecting to have to contain him. “Listen, no one feels worse than I do right now, okay? I am here because I want him, the person whom was willing to help me when he knew it could come with consequences, to be back in his home and free of the burden I put on him. You don’t have to believe me, but I am here to help, and so I am asking you to let me.”

Still crossing his arms, Bakugou takes a few steps closer to Shouto as he hears him talk, squinting harder at each step. Kirishima also gets up, apparently readying himself to stop anything from happening, and Shouto breathes in and keeps his posture as if he were facing a very difficult enemy of the kingdom in a politics meeting.

To his surprise, though, Bakugou doesn’t move any further. All he does is nod, grit his teeth and hiss, “Fine.”

Shouto blinks, caught off guard, and watches as Bakugou takes the water canteens and shoves them against his chest. He snaps out of his surprised state to wrap his arms around them.

“There’s a lake a few meters before the entrance of the next village. If you keep walking straight from that point on, you’ll get there in thirty minutes,” Bakugou says, pointing, and Shouto nods shortly, “If you’re not back in one hour and a half, I’ll burn down everything in the way, I’ll dry every lake, and I’ll look under every single rock. I will find you, Your Highness, and I will make you regret running away.”

Shouto swallows.

“Understood.”

***

Damn being royalty and damn never being allowed to walk on his own while sipping from the very last drop of his water canteen and facing the merciless tiredness of traveling for over a day without getting any rest at all. If only there were some kind of royal preparation for this kind of situation, there wouldn’t be any reasons for him to feel so frustrated and upset.

Everyone back at the castle would’ve known how to deal with this better than he does. From Momo to Fuyumi herself. As the youngest, he should never have allowed his father to shield him so much—especially because he wasn’t shielded for love, but for precautions. Because, if anything, they needed their enemy kingdoms to understand they had perfect children, from the oldest to the youngest. And, therefore, Shouto had to put in extra effort, for he would have to make up for the years of life he didn’t have to gain experience.

His legs burn. He hasn’t been standing long, but his muscles were too tense while they were flying. His neck hurts, because, apparently, sleeping on the castle’s garden and sleeping out in the open with no proper pillows are not the same kind of experience at all. He’s thirsty, and, unsurprisingly, he’s also hungry. Sharing food can be difficult, considering he’s holding himself back from taking too much.

Eventually—he believes around thirty-five minutes later—he finds the lake. Sighing, Shouto fills the water canteens and prepares to go back, but then he squints at the distance as he realizes he’s not really far from the village. Their kingdom is well-known for having very generous merchants, and Shouto wonders if he could convince one or two to give him food. Not every part of the kingdom has seen his face before, but he would have to count on too much sheer luck.

He decides to take a quick look either way. If he manages to return with food, it might become even easier to not have Bakugou constantly keeping him under pressure during those next seven days.

Shouto is halfway through entering the village, keeping a low profile while walking as far from people as physically possible, when he hears a loud, male voice. It seems to be coming from a few meters away from him, and, for a moment, Shouto’s entire body freezes. He recognizes that voice.

“Have I made myself clear?” He hears the man asking, and there seem to be multiple low voices replying affirmatively, “If anyone chooses to conceal Prince Shouto’s whereabouts, they will be charged with high treason and thoroughly judged by the kingdom. The major punishment is as usual!”

Dammit.

Shouto breathes in, looking around to make sure no one noticed him. He begins walking back, stepping outside the village—not quick enough to draw attention, but quick enough that his legs burn even worse than before.

Shit, shit, shit. That’s the guard the King assigned to that village years ago. He must’ve received a letter from one of the King’s birds.

Shouto tightens his grip around the water canteens and swears under his breath when he accidentally drops one. He crouches down quickly, picks it up and fastens his pace. It isn’t until ten minutes later, with his breath coming out unsteady, his heartbeats drumming against his ears and his muscles yelling for a rest that Shouto realizes he isn’t quite free yet.

Five meters away, someone accidentally steps on a tree branch. Shouto hears it break.

He then realizes he is being followed.

Walking is no longer an option. Shouto inhales deeply, brushing aside the option to recoil, and counts to three.

One.

If the guards find him, they will take him back to the castle. There will be triple the amount of people protecting his room and hallway. They might already have come up with weapons strong enough to contain the dragon and stop the barbarian from finding and capturing him.

But.

Two.

Momo, Natsuo, Touya, Fuyumi, his mother. They must all be so concerned. Shouto can’t begin to imagine it—how he would react, had any of them been taking away from him like that. They must want him to return right this moment, regardless of the means they have to use. They might even protect him from the King in case he decides Shouto’s decision to go with Bakugou willingly counts as treason in any way.

But!

Three.

But…

Midoriya Izuku—the innocent man Shouto dragged into this. Kirishima—the shapeshifter who argued that he should have the benefit of the doubt, who has been nothing but nice since the moment he turned back to his human form. And, then, Bakugou Katsuki—the barbarian, more than willing to confront Shouto and threaten him at all times, but also… also the man who’s doing everything in his power to save his childhood friend, who’s weirdly friendly and careful with his dragon, and who, despite all hard feelings, decided to let Shouto go and do as he pleased when he asked for an opportunity to be helpful.

Now.

He runs.

He probably can’t outrun the guards for long, but he has the head-start and, considering he mustn’t be so far away at this point, he won’t need to. One of the water canteens slips off his hands and Shouto tries to ignore it. He will explain everything to Bakugou later. He hopes that won’t be reason enough for the man to think he isn’t trustworthy, taking into consideration that his explosive personality doesn’t seem reasonable when it comes to royalty members.

The man catches up to him. Happily, he isn’t armed, and, when he grabs Shouto’s shoulder and throws him to the ground, Shouto is quick to remember some of the tips he received from Momo. He uses his legs, kicking the man on the stomach, and gets up—right after bringing the remaining water canteens next to his body again. There is a sudden sting on his cheek, and he realizes he grazed it when he fell on the grass. His clothes are also suddenly dirty, but he pays it no mind.

The man is getting up, and so he goes back to running.

Luckily, Shouto had been walking fast enough to close some of the distance. By the time he sees Bakugou—sitting cross-legged, checking something inside the bags they’re bringing—and Kirishima—still soundly sleeping, he yells at the top of his lungs, hoping that it will be enough.

It is.

Bakugou looks up, eyes immediately catching the man running after Shouto, and he jumps from his place, pulling his sword with him. By the time Shouto reaches the place they were staying at, all there is behind him is the sound of a sword’s pommel colliding with the guard’s stomach. He coughs and drops to his knees, grabbing his stomach. Shouto inhales sharply, looking back and catching the moment Bakugou points the blade to the man’s throat, the same way he did back at the castle. He looks up and meets Shouto’s eyes.

“Put those in the bag,” He says, and Shouto realizes he’s talking about the water canteens, “Kirishima, we’re going.”

Kirishima, apparently, was startled away by the sound. Shouto hurries to stuff everything in the bag, and, by the time he looks back, smoke is already taking over his sight and Kirishima has returned to his dragon form. Shouto takes the liberty to grab one of his scales and climb up, looking back at Bakugou. The barbarian takes the lead, hitting the man’s forehead with the pommel—not strong enough to make him bleed, but enough to make him fall back and scream. He then runs toward the dragon, grabbing one of the scales while Kirishima takes off, already about one meter away from the ground.

Shouto attempts to recover the steady pace of his breath. Bakugou supports himself and looks down, making sure the man is still on the ground. If they squint, it is already possible to see some of the men in the village rushing towards them.

“Shit. We might have to hide for a while,” Bakugou groans, “Kirishima, go north. We’ll have them cover us and find our way back from there.”

“Who’s ‘them’?” Shouto asks before he can restrain himself.

Gladly, the sudden chase seems to be throwing Bakugou off his previous self, the one that refused to answer Shouto’s questions.

“Some of our friends,” Bakugou says, sighing, “They’re not that far. It’s going to delay us, though, and I detest it, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Dammit, how did the guy even find you? Did he see you while you were filling the canteens or was he already around there or some shit?”

Shouto swallows, “I put the water in the canteens, and then I saw the village, and I thought…”

Bakugou quirks up an eyebrow. Shouto gathers the courage to explain and hopes that he won’t be quite literally kicked out of the flying dragon.

“I thought I might get some food from the merchants if they didn’t know I was the Prince. I had no idea my father would have already sent the message to these people, especially because he’s very much against using his birds unless it’s an extreme case, and I didn’t believe—”

“You didn’t believe his son being taken to his assassins would count as an extreme case?”

Looking down at his own feet, Shouto sighs, “It was a miscalculation of mine. I didn’t think my absence would interfere in the kingdom’s business, but it appears it has.”

“And that’s the only reason the King sent the bird, is what you’re saying?”

“Yes, Bakugou. That’s what I’m saying.”

Surprisingly, Bakugou doesn’t snap at him. Instead, he sighs—and it’s an annoyed sigh, but that’s the extent of it. He goes back to looking around, and the air around them grows colder, but Shouto barely notices it as Bakugou stares back at him only a few moments later.

“What about the bottles?”

“Well, I filled them.”

“I can tell, asshole. My question here is, how are they here? Was the guy chasing you only for the last part of it?”

Shouto squints, “What is your point?”

“There is a freaking cut on your cheek, Half n’ Half. What I’m asking you is: did your shitty brain think it would be a good idea to hold on to the bottles instead of freeing your arms and securing that you would run faster? Is that how priorities work in royalty brain, all messed up?”

Not quite ignoring the ‘Half n’ Half’ he heard, Shouto clicks his tongue, “We were out of water. I set it as my priority so that we wouldn’t have to travel while thirsty, and that is all. The cut on my cheek and the strategy I had to run away from that man have nothing to do with it.”

“Well, he obviously got you.”

“Thank you for the observation.”

“Very bold of you, talking like that,” Bakugou points out, and Shouto sees the way he frowns, “What, do you think you’re suddenly good because you brought us back water? I’m not thanking you for shit, Your Highness.”

Shouto chuckles humorlessly, “Good. May I, please, stay in silence now?”

Again, surprisingly, Bakugou doesn’t immediately swings his sword at Shouto’s neck at that. He clicks his tongue, evidently annoyed, and turns to look forward.

Shouto sighs, running his finger carefully over the cut on his cheek. This trip might end up being even messier than he thought it would be.

***

“We’re here.”

Shouto leans forward slightly, holding onto a scale firmly, and manages to see a house built in the middle of absolute nowhere in the direction they are descending. It appears to be very classic, and there are a bit too many windows, but it still looks oddly comfortable from the outside.

“Oi, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou points at Kirishima, squinting as he turns back to his human form, “We’re here to hide for a few hours, not to hang out, so, even if Dunce Face or Raccoon Eyes are there, you can’t forget about this. We’re out of time already. Do you understand?”

Frowning slightly at the nicknames, Shouto watches as Kirishima smiles and nods. Bakugou doesn’t seem properly convinced, but he turns around and walks towards the house anyway. Shouto takes the cue to follow them.

Instead of properly knocking, Bakugou places his hand over the doorknob and turns. Shouto attempts to hide his surprise at the fact that it opens, just like that, because, even if the place seems desert and very difficult to trace, leaving a door open for anyone to walk in still sounds nothing like a wise decision.

As they walk in, Shouto feels the air being knocked out of his lungs. The house definitely didn’t look this huge from the outside. There is a long hallway that begins at the entrance of the house and leads them to a path of doors. There are at least six doors in each side of the hallway, and, by the time they reach the end of it, there is a living room the size of Shouto’s bedroom back at the castle. The ceiling is unnecessarily high, half of the place is taken by what looks like a kitchen and the other side has every element of a traditional room. Sitting around a wooden table on the kitchen, chatting and laughing, there are four people.

The second Bakugou sets foot in the kitchen, they all look up at him, and not one of them seems surprised at the sight of three new random presences in their house.

“Oh, man,” One of them says—he has blonde spiky hair with a strike that reminds Shouto of a lighting bolt, a wide yet playful smile and he wears a hat that reminds Shouto of the hats of an elite group they have back at the castle. “You came at the best possible time, Kirishima, Blasty!”

Bakugou clicks his tongue loudly, “Call me Blasty one more time—”

“How many times must I tell you,” Someone else interrupts—a woman with short black hair, bangs and purple clothes, “I asked Ochako for the spell on the door so that you could walk in on an emergency. That doesn’t, in any way, mean that you are allowed to break into my house, Bakugou.”

“Well, tough luck. This is an emergency. Assholes, meet Prince Todoroki Shouto.”

For a few moments, they all stop breathing. Shouto feels all eyes on him, and it’s as if they suddenly noticed the third person at the door. He ends up holding his breath as well, wondering what kind of people they are. Apparently, they seem comfortable enough with the barbarian and the shapeshifter, however, that doesn’t tell him a lot about any of them. After all, Midoriya is also friends with those people.

The first person to speak is the other woman on the table—pink hair, light eyes and lilac clothes, “Oh, my, Bakugou kidnapped the Prince.”

“Shut up, Raccoon Eyes, I didn’t kidnap the Prince.”

“Damn, Blasty, you even got Kirishima to help you! Kiri, bro, I thought you were better than that!”

“Didn’t I just say—”

“I must admit,” begins the last person on the table, a man with longish hair on his nape and triangular-shaped smile, “I was waiting for the day Bakugou would pull something like this and show up here begging for Jirou’s help.”

The one with bangs shakes her head, “I am not helping you kidnap the Prince.”

Bakugou looks like he’s about to combust. Kirishima and the rest of them, on the other hand, are evidently having the time of their lives. When Kirishima steps forward, positioning himself beside Shouto, the Prince freezes again. He watches as the shapeshifter points at him with an exaggerated motion.

“As Bakugou here said, this is Prince Todoroki Shouto. Your Highness, these are our friends. Jirou Kyouka, Kaminari Denki, Ashido Mina and Sero Hanta. This house belongs to Kyouka, but it is pretty often that we stop by and catch all of them here. Also, please don’t pay any mind to Bakugou’s nicknames for them.”

“Shitty friends, you are.”

“We did not kidnap the Prince,” Kirishima proceeds calmly, “I take it that you guys haven’t heard. Midoriya has been taken hostage.”

The smiles fall off their faces. Jirou frowns, getting up from her seat, “What do you mean, taken hostage?”

“There are people going after Prince Shouto’s life, and, when they saw him at Midoriya’s house, they took the opportunity to use Midoriya as a bait to draw the Prince,” He explains, “Midoriya’s mother didn’t know what to do, so she asked for our help. We went to pick up Prince Shouto, who came willingly, and now they are chasing us.”

“Wait,” Ashido blinks, “If Midoriya was kidnapped, why didn’t his mother ask for Ochako’s help instead?”

Bakugou makes a tsk sound, “Auntie doesn’t like messing with that magic shit that Round Face does.”

“Ochako is a good witch.”

“Yeah, well, this is about saving her son, so I think she gets to choose.”

Kirishima seems to notice Shouto’s slightly confused expression, because he turns to him and says, “Uraraka Ochako is one of Midoriya’s best friends. She is a witch, though, and she doesn’t live that close. Unlike us, she isn’t always on the move, and it’s harder to get in touch with her. Even if we managed, like Bakugou said, Midoriya’s mother doesn’t trust magic. That is mostly because Uraraka and the other witches usually get hired, do their job and flee. They don’t pay much mind to what is left behind.”

“Ochako always got along well with all of us, though,” Ashido says, immediately on the defensive, “And, had Midoriya’s mother thought of this, it could be easier to get him back.”

“I think Blasty and Kirishima can manage,” Kaminari interrupts, sending him a lighthearted look, “But, if you’re doing well on your own, what are you doing here?”

“Like we said, they are chasing us. We managed to run away in time for them not to capture us, but they are probably going to look around for a while. We thought we could maybe sleep here tonight and leave in the morning. Please, Kyouka?”

With a sigh, Jirou nods. It doesn’t seem like it took her a long time to be convinced, but, still, there is some kind of exhaustion on her face, as if this is something that she has already grown used to and tired of, “Yes, you can sleep here. I don’t have anything comfortable enough for the Prince, though.”

“That’s fine,” Bakugou says, side-eyeing him. Shouto looks away.

“Hanta, do me a favor, please? In my room, there is a tiny purple box. Ochako left a hiding spell there. Grab it for me and I’ll spread it on the house.”

Kirishima groans, “Are you serious? That smells awful.”

“To you, it does,” Ashido stands up from her seat, walking toward Kirishima and fondly ruffling his hair, “To the rest of us, it’s odorless. Bear with it for the team.”

“How so?” Shouto asks Kirishima, in a low tone, and Kirishima turns to him with his ever-so-friendly expression.

“Uraraka taught me how to smell magic in the air, in case anything happens, but it heightened my senses too much and now I smell any kind of magic,” Kirishima says, sighing, “And this one is just terrible.”

“Now, come on, you guys. I’ll settle a few pillows on the ground for you.”

“I will, um,” Shouto begins, clearing his throat. Apparently, when the Prince speaks, the entire room stares at him. Marvelous. “Take some fresh air.”

Bakugou squints, “No.”

“Let him,” Kyouka interrupts, ignoring Bakugou’s glare, “He came willingly, didn’t he? You should trust people more. You can go, Your Highness.”

Under Bakugou’s glare, he does.

***

Shouto sits down on one of the few stair steps and looks up at the stars, sighing. This isn’t peaceful, not at all. There are people inside the house whose only goal is to take Shouto to Midoriya’s kidnappers in order to get him back, and the only people who care about him are back at the castle, too far away for any of his thoughts to reach them.

Surprisingly, though, he finds that this is the most at ease he has managed to feel for a while. There weren’t large breaks between each assassination attempt. He was never peaceful back at the castle either, always wary of either his surroundings or his own family. Momo was a refreshing presence, but she was, in the end, also someone who worked under the King’s orders. There were so many things he had to think about—he realizes now that he never got the chance to truly let it sink that there were people out there looking to kill him.

It comes crashing down on him at this moment, while his heterochrome eyes meet the night sky. He stops, and he finds that there is no noise around him to keep him distracted, neither are guards or subjects waiting outside his door to aggravate his already heightened senses. At least for a few more hours, he is bound to stay here, left alone with his mind.

One lonely tear rolls down his cheek.

Shouto rubs it away and hisses at the feeling of his scratched skin. A few more tears join that first lonely one, and he hugs his knees close to his chest and buries his face in the crook of his elbow. How long has it been now, since he allowed himself to cry? Honestly, if he thinks about it very carefully, it’s still difficult to remember. He couldn’t afford to be seen crying. He was a part of the royal family, and they had to be strong.

Someone tried to take his life, and his first reaction was to roll his eyes at the advisor’s exaggerated gestures and overly preoccupied solutions. Even while an invisible hand squeezes his heart and pulled, he convinced everyone he was okay. He even convinced himself, back at the time.

“Hey, Half n’ Half bastard, you—oh.”

Shouto inhales sharply, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wipe the tears away as quickly as possible. Bakugou’s voice sounds lower than usual at his last sword, and Shouto hopes his slight demonstration of weakness won’t suffice to irritate the man.

“Are you crying?”

Shouto swallows, “No.”

“Do I look like an idiot to you?” Bakugou asks, and, instead of walking away, he steps closer to where Shouto is sitting. He supports his shoulder against one of the house’s columns and squints at him. “You are crying. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Shouto says, albeit there are a thousand words caught in his throat, fighting to break free. He wants to yell, but he can’t, and so he doesn’t. “I am doing wonderful here. This is a comfortable house, and I am gradually growing used to sleeping wherever it is proven necessary, so—”

“Liar, you haven’t slept for a minute so far,” Bakugou points out, startling Shouto a little by finding a seat beside him, “You’re probably crying because you’re exhausted. What, do you think we’ll attack you or something if you fall asleep?”

“No.”

Bakugou frowns. Shouto’s voice might have broke a little.

“You were willing to come,” Bakugou begins, “When we got there, it looked like you already had it set that you would do something about Deku’s situation. I had to interfere because Auntie knew the royal family never does anything that doesn’t benefit them, but, if I hadn’t, what would you have done?”

For a few moments, Shouto says nothing. He looks down at the grass under his boots and breathes in and out multiple times. Gladly, Bakugou doesn’t appear to be as impatient as usual tonight, so he waits, and, when Shouto finally speaks, he makes sure his voice doesn’t break again.

“If you hadn’t shown up,” Shouto finally speaks, drawling his words, “It is very likely that I would be in my room, contained, right this moment. Held as a prisoner, if I would dare to say it. I was willing to take my horse and ride all the way to the place the assassins ordered, but I am but a mere Prince. Even if I were to fool the King and his best knights for a short amount of time, they would soon catch up to me. You witnessed the prove of that very little ago, when that man chased me.”

“Yeah, well, no one expects the Prince to master running away.”

Shouto lets out a bitter laugh, “It’s for the best that I am here, Bakugou. I am well aware of that.”

“Yeah, no shit. You were still crying two seconds ago, bastard.”

Shouto purses his dry lips and sighs, “It might sound silly to you, but—well, knowing this is the right thing to do in no way diminishes the burden of knowing it’s only happening because someone wants my head. If I am here, if Midoriya is where he is right now, that is because someone tried to take my life and failed. But they still tried.”

If it sounds silly, stupid or anything in between, Bakugou doesn’t let it show. Instead, he averts his eyes from Shouto and looks up at the sky, as if he is trying to understand what it is about the starts that draws Shouto’s attention so much. They fall into the least-intimidating silence they’ve had so far for over two minutes.

When Bakugou speaks again, his tone is calm and unlike him.

“Who knows? Those assholes couldn’t do a good job of killing you the first few times,” He shrugs, getting up and inevitably drawing Shouto’s eyes to him, “They might end up never making it.”

Shouto blinks, frowning at him, and watches with a mix of curiosity and confusion as Bakugou walks back inside without even looking back.

***

“I think we outsmarted them this time.”

It’s a bold observation, but it might actually be correct. They went back to flying over five hours ago, and it appears that there are no longer any guards or commoners looking for them around those regions anymore.

Shouto got some sleep. It was barely nothing, but it was still more than he had managed to get before, and so he decides to see it as a win. Besides, there is the topic of Bakugou’s cryptic phrase from last night. Shouto doubts he truly thinks the assassins wouldn’t be able to fulfill their goal when the Prince is quite literally handed to them, but he also doesn’t see why Bakugou would say something like that with no meaning at all behind it.

“Here,” Bakugou throws one of the bags they borrowed from Jirou towards him, “Raccoon Eyes wanted to cook last night while you were outside sulking, but no one aside from Ears can cook for shit amongst them, so I made that. Don’t eat it all at once, we still have six days ahead of us.”

Blinking with surprise, Shouto opens the bag and finds a few unusual snacks. He tastes one and looks up at Bakugou again, squinting while chewing. Bakugou seems to notice his stare and his immediate reaction is to click his tongue in annoyance and cross his arms, clearly ready to stand up for himself.

“If you say that doesn’t taste good because it isn’t like the food back at the castle, I’ll—”

“You made this?”

Bakugou pauses, “Are you trying to get me to stab you?”

“I apologize. I’m just… surprised,” Shouto says, looking down at the bags and nearly letting out a relieved sigh at the realization that there are plenty of those snacks left, “I never took you for someone who had the time nor the wish to learn how to cook properly.”

“Yeah, well, being a nomad includes having to take care of yourself and looking out for your own health. There are things we learn, not because we wanted to, but because we had to,” Bakugou says, “Besides, when I say none of them can cook for shit, I’m also talking about Kirishima. If it weren’t for me, he would’ve starved a long time ago.”

Kirishima lets out a noise from the back of his throat—it sounds terrifying, a dragon growling lowly while flying with two people on his back—but Bakugou promptly ignores it, grabbing other bag and pulling a water canteen from it, throwing it to Shouto. Shouto gladly catches it.

Shouto looks up, “May I ask you something?”

“No, Half n’ Half. Shut up.”

“Please, reconsider,” Shouto requests, taking a sip of his water, “Otherwise, I think this silent trip might end up tiring us both.”

Bakugou cracks his knuckles, and, at Shouto’s unintimidated face—which is, a little bit, purely a façade—he sighs, “Fine. Ask away.”

“How did you two meet? You and Kirishima, that is.”

“Why does that interest you?”

Shouto doesn’t say anything. He keeps looking at Bakugou, as if expecting him to stop being stubborn and telling him the story already, and Bakugou lets out an annoyed groan before complying.

“It was, like, five years ago. Kirishima used to travel alone, and so did I, but there were people out for both of us. I was running away—yeah, no shit, I was running away while I was still not the great barbarian, you don’t have to look so freaking surprised—and I bumped into him. He had just turned back into human, but then he helped me get away from those guys, and I said I could help him defeat the assholes who were after him as well. It ended up like this.”

“I see” Shouto hums, biting off a piece of his delicious snacks, “May I ask you something else?”

“Screw you.”

“What about Midoriya?”

Bakugou’s jaw stiffens, “What about the nerd?”

“Well, you might be childhood friends, but how did it happen?” Shouto asks, “I was around many kids from other kingdoms back in my childhood, but it never meant I felt comfortable around them. Unless we had something in common, there were no reasons for me to ever be around them for longer than needed while the adults talked about their business.”

“We had something in common,” Bakugou says, and he averts his eyes. Shouto wonders why he does that. “Stupid Deku wanted to master swordsmanship, and so did I. Guess which one of us was the only one to make it.”

Shouto frowns, “Did he give up?”

“You’re really not his friend, are you?” Bakugou asks, and Shouto shrugs very slightly, “Deku doesn’t know when to give up, the stupid nerd. We had this swordsman we both admired, Yagi Toshinori, and he constantly told Deku there were plenty of chances that he would grow used to the art of swordsmanship and get on my level or whatever it is that included the lies he fed Deku. I have no idea if he still does any of that. When I left, I lost most of the ways I had to get in touch with them.”

“How did Midoriya’s mother find you?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue, “I left a way behind. I was going to be away most of the time, and I wasn’t up for chitty chatting or visiting them on holidays, but I told them to look for me if it was an emergency. Never really thought I’d have such a shitty reason to come back. What about you, anway? What did the Prince even want from a commoner like Deku?”

Oh, Shouto blinks as it sinks in, Bakugou doesn’t know. He couldn’t have known.

“Midoriya is a good source,” Shouto says, tip-toing on the things he can and cannot say, “I had just gone through an assassination attempt, and I needed his opinion on the matter.”

“How was his opinion going to help you at all?”

“I thought he knew… someone who could help me,” He proceeds, “Someone whose mind would be able to understand the assassins’ minds and bring their point of view into clarity, so that I could prepare for their next move. Unfortunately, I failed to predict that their next move would include my own actions, such as visiting him.”

Bakugou shakes his head, arms still crossed, “You would’ve hit a dead end anyway. There is no way someone like Deku could have known a person like that.”

Shouto looks down, hoping that the blood flowing through his cheeks won’t become evident at any moment. He feels embarrassed now, that he would ask Midoriya for Bakugou’s contact as if Bakugou would be able to see through the assassins’ eyes. Not much happened, but he can tell now, at least—this man wouldn’t be able to.

“Yes,” Shouto says, stuffing his mouth with the snack, “I know that now.”

***

It’s during the next morning that they decide to stop and rest.

Kirishima falls asleep almost immediately. Shouto honestly can’t blame him—he can’t imagine how exhausting it is to fly around all day long, not faltering for a second, and not even being able to communicate with them in the meanwhile. He also learned from Bakugou that Kirishima is the overly excited, friendly addition of their duo, partly because that’s how he has always been, and partly because it is important that there is something to contrast with Bakugou’s personality.

Bakugou puts two swords on the ground—the one he has been bringing with him and the one Jirou lent him.

“I’m assuming you can use one of those,” He says, catching Shouto off guard.

“Oh. As the Prince, yes, I can, but—”

“Don’t want to hear any ‘buts’, Your Highness. The King’s knights might catch up to us, and I’m pretty sure I’m enough to handle them, but it won’t hurt to have someone else having my back when it happens,” Bakugou says, and Shouto blinks, “Don’t freaking look at me like that. I’m not saying I trust you; I’m just saying this is convenient.”

Shouto nods, feeling a sense of acknowledgment that warms his heart a little—and it’s weird, because these people are his ride to his end, and, yet, he feels like it might be the first time outside his siblings’ and Momo’s companion that he has felt like someone truly sees him as an actual person.

“You look too doubtful about this shit,” Bakugou points out, crouching down and picking up one of the swords, “You’ll get to sleep in a minute, but grab that and duel me first.”

Shouto blinks, “Bakugou.”

“What? Scared?”

He’s trying to provoke him into dueling him—that’s something Shouto has to know how to notice—and there is no reasonable explanation for Shouto to be agree to it. He has been weak these past few days, especially considering he refused to eat as much as necessary while locked up in his room, and now he has to live off the bare minimum and be satisfied when he gets over twenty minutes of sleep.

On the other hand, Bakugou looks fine. He is probably used to long traveling, and the lack of food and sleep isn’t an issue when it comes to him. To speak the truth, it isn’t difficult for anyone to read the atmosphere and conclude that Shouto wouldn’t stand a single chance on a duel.

However.

The last time he dueled someone, it was Momo, and he lost miserably. He was okay with it—but he was the only one. His father thought it was a terrible sign. His mother disliked the idea of Shouto fighting people stronger than him. His siblings tried to comfort him all day, as if losing to his friend would ever make him feel worse about himself. And that was just the last time, as if the times before it weren’t exactly the same.

He has always dueled for the sake of others. He has never simply dueled for the sake of dueling.

“No,” Shouto finally says, grabbing the spare sword and breathing in, “I will duel you.”

There is no one to tell them when to start, and, although Shouto would have deeply appreciated the time to prepare, Bakugou seems to think differently. He steps forward firmly immediately, swinging his sword while keeping one of his arms loose beside his body, as if he didn’t have to put all of his effort into this.

Shouto jumps backwards, tightening the grip of two hands around the handle, and inhales deeply one more time before swinging his own sword. Bakugou dodges the motion easily, circling his blade in the air and trying to hit Shouto’s leg. Gladly, jumping high enough to avoid a strike was also something Shouto learned along the way of having multiple swordsmanship instructors, and he nearly succeeds in surging forward and hitting Bakugou with his elbow. Bakugou is faster, though, and he blocks the attack with his forearm, pushing Shouto backwards and making him stumble.

It isn’t easy, dodging every single one of Bakugou’s attacks, and Shouto nearly doesn’t make it. Two minutes later, he finds himself with one or two pieces of his clothes cut, and Bakugou even manages to land a hit of his pommel against Shouto’s shoulder, which hurts less than he predicted. Bakugou must be going easy on him, he decides, and it doesn’t help his pride at all to know that.

He decides to try something else. Bakugou swings forward, and he dodges it by throwing his body to the side—and then he throws his blade as well. Bakugou blinks, quickly stepping out of its reach, and it falls on the ground right beside him. While he’s busying making sure it landed there, though, Shouto kicks as high as he can and successfully hits Bakugou’s wrist. It’s nearly not enough for him to drop the sword, and he’s reaching for it midair, but Shouto stops him and risks his own skin by throwing himself forward, holding Bakugou’s shoulders.

They end up like this: Shouto is straddling him, and Bakugou is groaning because the back of his head hit the ground. Both of the swords are right there, beside them, and Shouto reaches for his own first. Bakugou doesn’t let him, though. He puts all of his strength into his right leg and spins them around, ending up straddling Shouto instead. He grabs the sword while Shouto blinks, recovering from the sudden impact of his back against the ground, and points the blade at his throat.

“Hah,” Bakugou grins, using his free hand brush his now-messier hair back, “I win, Your Highness.”

Shouto lets out a deep sigh, also trying to recover his breath seconds later. He pushes aside the part of his mind that notices that Bakugou actually looks good like this—the victorious grin lighting up his face, the playful eyes mocking his opponent—and nods, rubbing his face.

“Yes, you won. Has that proven your point, then? Am I a convenient swordsman to have covering for you in case a fight begins?”

Bakugou retrieves his sword, gets up from his spot above him and stretches out his arms, “You’re not the worst opponent I’ve ever faced, no. Surprisingly, you might actually be useful, Half n’ Half.”

Squinting, Shouto takes his hand, “That sounds like a compliment coming from you.”

“You’re brutally honest, aren’t you?”

“I don’t see how that’s any less of a compliment, either.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, and Shouto realizes now there is a mix of annoyance and playfulness in the way he does that, as if Shouto’s presence is no longer completely unbearable to him. When he thinks about it, there is nothing so far that would prove any of the rumors about the barbarian. Not at all.

He thought Midoriya might be biased, but, in the end, he might have stated the truth in everything he said.

“The sword stays on you at all times, from now on,” Bakugou says, craving his own on the ground, “Now, go to sleep. We should stay here for two hours. I’ll wake Kirishima up in one hour. You get to sleep through the whole time, because, even if I’m giving you a weapon, I’m not trusting you to watch over any of us.”

Shouto supposes that’s to be expected.

This time, he falls asleep with more ease, but there is a part of him that keeps hammering his head with three little words—six more days, six more days, six more days.

***

And, now, five more days.

They have been traveling well, and the silence isn’t as deafening as before. However, it is Shouto’s anxiety that increases every few seconds as they move closer to their destination. He knows there is no point in wondering if he could take the assassins in a fight. He wasn’t even able to beat Bakugou, and he is only one person. There is absolutely no way.

He’s so distracted at some point that his hand slips from the scale he’s holding on to. He doesn’t quite realize how risky it is to have his head in the clouds until, a few seconds later, he loses his balance on his feet as well. The only reason why he doesn’t immediately fall off the dragon is that Bakugou, quick as he always is, moves and manages to grab his wrist and pull him up.

“What the—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

Bakugou frowns deeply at him, and Shouto feels his heart racing, because he’s aware he could’ve just screwed up massively. His head is too overwhelmed, though, and he moves even more away from the edge of the scales to make sure the same mistake doesn’t happen again.

“I’m distracted,” Shouto says, looking up to meet Bakugou’s eyes, “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

“Stop freaking talking like that. What got you like that?”

Shouto purses his lips, looking down bitterly, “Possibly the thought of being executed by people I don’t know for crimes that I didn’t commit taking over my mind.”

“Well, shit, when you put it like that, it sure doesn’t help you feel better, does it?” Bakugou asks, and Shouto lets out a humorless laugh, because, really, how else is he supposed to put it? “Listen, I thought I made myself clearer than this the other night. Are all royals really that dumb?”

“What is that supposed to mean, Bakugou?”

“We can freaking find a way, okay, Half n’ Half?” Bakugou rolls his eyes, “I believe your shitty story about how you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and it’s really annoying that Deku won’t let me see the end of this if I turn you over for him, so we’ll find a way of tricking those assholes and not making the trade.”

Shouto squints, sending him a shocked stare, “Bakugou.”

“Half n’ Half bastard really likes saying my name, huh.”

“I am here to ensure Midoriya’s safety,” Shouto says, “I was aware of the consequences when I told you I would come.”

Bakugou crosses his arms, “Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Well, then…”

“Deku is the most annoying person on Earth. If you knew him, you would know he would never forgive himself for any of this if you ended up on those man’s hands,” Bakugou proceeds, “Besides, I know there are lots of rumors of how ruthless and heartless I am and shit, but I’m not an idiot. I’m a freaking great judge of character, that is what I am. You’re not a bad person, and I’m not turning a good person over to bad people. Tough luck for you. I’m making new plans, and you’ll follow them.”

Blinking, Shouto watches him, as if expecting Bakugou to laugh at him and say he didn’t mean any of that. When he doesn’t—and, instead, all he does is stare at him, waiting for an actual reaction—Shouto lets out a deep, relieved sigh, and he feels a huge weight being lifted off his chest.

“It can’t be simple, Bakugou, fooling those men.”

“Have you met me?” Bakugou grins, that stupid arrogant grin that’s weirdly attractive, “If they think they have what it takes for me not to be able to stop them, they’re wrong. They’ll have to think twice before messing with people who know the barbarian next time. You know what, this might even add some details to my rumors. It can’t be bad for me.”

“Are you sure about this?” Shouto asks, pursing his lips, “I know you’re not fond of royalty.”

Bakugou squints, “And how would you know that?”

Because Midoriya told me, Shouto thinks to himself.

“You seem like it.”

“Yeah, it isn’t easy to be fond of people who only care about themselves,” Bakugou says, squinting, “Luckily, I seem to be trapped with the black sheep of the royal family, so that makes it easier for me. I’m not making the trade and that’s the end of it. You can stop trying to slip off the flying dragon now.”

Shouto nods.

“Thank you, Bakugou.”

“Will you stop saying my name—”

***

It is with four days left that something bad happens.

Shouto has been feeling like both Bakugou and Kirishima warmed up to him. Kirishima is easy to talk to, although they barely get a chance to talk since their breaks from flying only come for sleeping, washing up, eating and drinking water. Bakugou, on the other hand, hasn’t talked much aside from the necessary, but his tone is less aggressive, and his motions are less exaggerated every minute.

Still, Shouto can’t stop wondering about how things are back at the castle. He thinks mostly about his mother and siblings, but there are also thoughts about Momo there. It’s been over four days now, and most of the kingdom should already know about the situation. Not that the King would ever allow the real version to be spread—instead, they must be manipulating everything. The barbarian’s reputation will worsen severely after this is all over.

Shouto has no idea what to feel, at this point, but he knows he—naively or not—believes Bakugou. If he says they will find a way out of that situation that doesn’t end up in Shouto being handed over to the assassins, then so be it. He is flying on a shapeshifter and slowly befriending a barbarian, which means there are not many reasons left for him to doubt anything else in the world.

“We are out of snacks,” Shouto comments at some point while checking the bags, “You should have made more of those, Bakugou.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, bastard.”

“Technically, I’m not telling you what to do,” Shouto says, giving him a deadpan look that Bakugou quirks up his eyebrows at, “I’m telling you what you should have done.”

Bakugou clicks his tongue, “I will stab you.”

Shouto begins opening his mouth to say something else, but everything changes when Kirishima suddenly lets out a pained sound and falters while flying, causing Shouto to have to grip harder on the scales in order not to fall. Shouto widens his eyes and meets Bakugou’s. The barbarian seem as confused as he is, and he grabs one of the scales and leans forward, trying to see under them.

“Shit, there are knights, and they have crossbows! Kirishima, higher, right freaking now! Higher!”

Obviously, an arrow managed to hit Kirishima and that was what caused the pained noise—and Bakugou knows that, Shouto can tell by the way his brows furrow and he swallows thickly, looking around restlessly—but, if they stop now, all that will happen is that more of them will be able to land a hit. They need to escape immediately.

“Get me that bag,” Bakugou orders, and Shouto complies right away, throwing him a lighter bag Jirou gave them, “Ears said this was a present from Round Face. Apparently, they are supposed to explode when they hit the ground. I don’t like using this kind of magic shit, but it’s worth the shot.”

Shouto nods, thankful for the explanation despite their current situation, and watches as Bakugou retrieves what appears to be a fruit from the bag. He breathes in, stretches out one of his arms and releases it. For a few moments, all they do is wait. Then, they hear it: the sound of an explosion and of multiple men yelling out.

“It works.”

“Yeah,” Bakugou grits his teeth, “Let’s pay these assholes back.”

Bakugou throws one more, and it explodes as well, but, when he’s leaning forward and preparing to release the third, one of the men with the crossbows manages to get on his horse and shoot. Kirishima notices the arrow is about to hit him and doges, flying to the side. Unfortunately, that also causes Bakugou to lose balance, and it’s Shouto’s turn to have a quick reaction. He surges forward, grabbing Bakugou’s waist and pulling him. The barbarian ends up falling over him, and Shouto’s stomach hurts at the impact of a body against him, but he can at least let out a relieved sigh that Bakugou didn’t fall off.

Bakugou gets up, swearing under his breath.

“Here,” Shouto stretches out his arms, forcing his body to stand up, “I’ll hold one of the scales and you’ll hold my arm while throwing. That way, you won’t fall.”

They have no time to argue, nor does Bakugou appear to want to. He complies, holding Shouto’s arm while leaning this time, and throws two other fruits. They explode, and he squints to try to see what’s happening through the smoke they cause.

“There are still, like, ten of them. Are they giving birth to each other as we freaking speak or what?” Bakugou groans in annoyance, and Shouto has to tighten his grip on him as Kirishima falters on the air. “Shit, we have to land somewhere. If they hurt Kirishima, he has to go back into his human form.”

Shouto looks at him, frowning, “Isn’t that going to be worse? The arrow wound, that will be greatly bigger when he’s human.”

“No, it won’t. Everything that happens to him in dragon form reverts back to its previous state when he goes into human form,” Bakugou says, grabbing one more fruit and throwing, “The pain takes longer to go away, though. He needs to land and rest. Shit! There are only two fruits left.”

Blinking, Shouto thinks of something. He speaks louder this time, because he needs Kirishima to hear it.

“We need to make them stay as close as possible,” He yells, “As soon as they are gathered together, we can throw the fruits and take all of them out. Kirishima, I know this must be torture for you, but if you could fly only a little higher, just enough for them to have to gather up in order to see you—”

Wasting absolutely no time, Kirishima’s wings cut through the air with renewed strength and he moves into a nearly vertical position. Shouto holds Bakugou with all the strength left in his arms and grits his teeth, feeling like his jaw might explode any second. The sound of arrows flying around them doesn’t make things any less terrifying.

“Now,” Shouto widens his eyes, watching the knights’ horses approach each other, “Now, Bakugou!”

“I know, dammit!”

He throws the two fruits at once—it’s a risky move, but it is also necessary. If only one of them explodes and doesn’t at least manages to make half of those men faint, then it’s worth nothing. They won’t gather again if they know of their strategy. Shouto squeezes Bakugou’s hand and looks down, hoping for the best.

And the best it is.

Some of them get hurt, but the fruits don’t seem to be meant to cause harm. Instead, all they do is send them flying a few meters away, and the few injuries it appears to create come from the impact only. The crossbows, on the other side, break instantly at the crashing, and Shouto considers letting out a relieved sigh before remembering they still have things to do. There is no time to believe they are safe, yet.

Bakugou releases Shouto’s hand and taps the space between Kirishima’s eyes, “Forward. Land as soon as you feel that we’re out of sight.”

Kirishima barely nods, the motion sending Bakugou off his balance a little, and Shouto places what is supposed to be a comfort hand over his scales. When Bakugou flops down in front of him, he can’t help but ask, “Has this, um, kind of wound ever been inflicted before? Are you sure he will be able to heal?”

“Do I look like an idiot to you, Half n’ Half?” Bakugou snaps, but, at the sight of Shouto’s quirked up eyebrows, he sighs, “Yeah, I’m pretty freaking sure. We have fought people like that before, and they have magic crafts like Round Face’s rather than simple arrows. He’s going to be fine.”

“Are you okay?”

Bakugou squints, “I didn’t get hit.”

“Yes, well, they still hit your friend, and you had to fight.”

“Was I fighting alone just now, bastard?” The barbarian rolls his eyes, “I’m fine, you’re fine, Kirishima is fine. We’ll be even finer in a few minutes when we get to land, drink some water, eat something and plan a way to stomp on those people once we’re done with this mission here. Don’t you dare worry.”

Shouto nods.

“Also, because you saved me earlier when you pulled me,” Bakugou says, averting his eyes and rubbing his face, “Thank you or whatever.”

Smiling weakly, Shouto nods again, “It was nothing.”

***

Kirishima is fine.

Shouto sighs, relieved, when Kirishima jumps from the sitting position he had been in for five minutes since they landed. He looks healthy and unharmed, but Bakugou still threatens cutting him if he goes jumping around instead of waiting for his body to fully recover from the injury.

“Thank you for following my plan even when you were injured,” Shouto says, smiling a little, “You are really strong, Kirishima.”

Kirishima openly smiles at him, “Thank you, Todoroki. The manliest thing to do is always keep going, regardless of how hurt you are. Also, this closed wound still hurts, so I assume it’s safer to do as Bakugou says and sit down for a while. I’m sorry I can’t help you guys get water and everything else.”

“Shut up, Shitty Hair. Calling the Prince by his name and shit. We don’t need your help, the best thing you’ll do right now is sit down and look at the trees,” Bakugou orders, and Kirishima lets out a laugh, “Half n’ Half, you stay here and watch while Shitty Hair gets some sleep. I’ll get the water.”

Shouto blinks, “I can get the water.”

“No, you can’t. Last time you went, your presence brought a whole ass guard to us. I’m not taking the risk.”

It is decided, then, that Bakugou will get the water and Shouto will make sure no one attacks Kirishma while he’s asleep. Kirishima protests at first, claiming he is feeling well enough to take care of himself, but he ends up falling asleep in the span of five minutes. Bakugou sends Shouto one last pointed look before leaving and leaves the most well-balanced sword to him.

Shouto sighs, allowing the adrenaline from earlier to slide off his body. The last few days have been nothing but adventurous, and he thinks he has acquired self-preservation skills that he didn’t even believe he needed back at the castle. When he goes back—because he trusts Bakugou, again, and he is going back—he might teach his siblings some of that.

“Hey, Todoroki,” Kirishima calls, drawing his eyes to him. He’s laying down on the grass, one arm under his head and a calm smile on his lips, “In other circumstances, the brave Prince would have been a nice addition to our group from the beginning, you know? It feels like you’ve been around forever.”

Shouto blinks, “I suppose you’re referring to that as a good thing.”

“Well, of course! You’re the only one aside from our little group that manages to be around Bakugou for so long, speak and never get cut for it,” Kirishima says, laughing a little, “Of course, there is also Midoriya, but I doubt it’s fair to bring him into this. He probably knew Bakugou before Bakugou knew of cutting people up.”

“I… well, I don’t believe this is something Midoriya would have wanted me to tell Bakugou, but I do believe it’s alright to tell you,” Shouto begins, “He might be astonished when we get there to save him. He doesn’t believe Bakugou would do this for him, that I can assure you.”

Kirishima’s eyes widen a little, “How would you know?”

“I know. Midoriya thinks his friendship isn’t… well, cherished to this extent.”

“They’ve been friends since forever, though.”

“Yes, and Midoriya is a naïve person, evidently. He reminds me of a friend of mine, who is also very insecure, and he might need the reassurance that he is a precious friend in greater forms than simply words once in a while,” Shouto says, shrugging, “Of course, nothing speaks louder than picking up the Prince of a very powerful kingdom to save you from a group of assassins that awaits an eight-day-trip away.”

Kirishima chuckles, “Yeah, it is common for Bakugou to show rather than tell. I think you might have noticed that already, actually. He isn’t very good with words—in fact, he only uses them for inappropriate purposes. He’s pretty good with actions, though. He says, ‘I’m not doing this shit for you’ and then he does it for you, and you just know he did.”

Shouto opens his mouth to say something else, but then he catches the moment Kirishima yawns, clearly trying to hide it with a fist over his mouth. Shouto offers him a calm look and nods, “You should sleep. As soon as you feel well-rested, we might be able to proceed with the traveling.”

“Oh, come on, we were talking.”

“Sleep, Kirishima.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes playfully before turning around, “Man, you really do complete Bakugou so much.”

Shouto squints at the cryptic phrase, but he decides not to push it—at least for now.

***

The next two days in their trip go smooth and without any major events, which brings them to today: one day left on the calendar.

“We will get there by tomorrow morning,” Bakugou says, returning from the lake where he went to wash up and running his fingers through his stubbornly messy wet hair, “It’s your turn to sleep, Half n’ Half, even if you look like you have no intention of sleeping this century.”

Shouto tilts his head to the side, supporting his back on a tree. His coat and boots are drying from when he washed them earlier, and even the clothes he’s wearing are still damp, a mistake he hasn’t committed so far. When he looks up at the sky, there are barely any visible stars, too little against the large clouds.

“I have been thinking,” He begins, watching as Bakugou flops down beside him, “There is something you should probably know. It might not be relevant at all, but I owe you this for trusting me.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Yes, you do, Bakugou,” Shouto looks back at him, “And you deserve to know why I actually went to Midoriya for help the night I was followed.”

Bakugou squints at him, clearly not amused by the conversation. Shouto gave it long thoughts before coming to the decision of telling him, but, in the end, regardless of what he says, it isn’t Bakugou’s fault that someone would be looking for him. Besides, it might be important for him to know Midoriya refused to get them in touch with each other—given how much Bakugou seems to care about the rumors and his self-acquired freedom.

So, Shouto tells him. He explains Momo’s suggestion from right after the assassination attempt, and he tells him about the way the barbarian’s name simply popped in his mind, and he goes on and on while looking forward, not daring to keep his eyes on Bakugou for a moment. If there is a reaction to expect, he would rather receive it all at once as soon as he’s done telling the whole story.

It sounds silly now that he thinks about. Even if they had managed to contact Bakugou and ask for his help, he wouldn’t have taken the offer. For all he knew a few weeks ago, the royal family was made of only arrogant, self-centered people, and there were no reasons for him to ever doubt his own intuition about them. Besides, he might have flipped on Shouto the second he realized he had gone for Midoriya for help, as if Midoriya was a subject who needed to comply to his orders. It wouldn’t have worked regardless, and, yet, he had to go and make a mess out of a pointless idea.

"It was you I went looking for you, Bakugou," He says, sighing, "This whole mess began because I wanted to find you."

Surprisingly enough for him, by the time he’s finished, Bakugou’s first question is, “So, you thought I’d be able to see through an assassins’ point of view.”

Shouto turns to look at him. For some reason, Bakugou’s crimson eyes aren’t half as angry as they usually are. There is still a light sparkle of annoyance there, but Shouto has the impression that he’s attempting to suffocate that with the rest of the emotions contorting his face at the moment. If he were to guess the main ones, they would be curiosity, acknowledgement and—oh, well. A hint of disappointment.

“I did,” Shouto admits, “I thought, as someone who knows the world as properly as you do, it would be easier for you than for my guards and knights, who have only been training and preparing themselves for situations regarding the castle and the safety of my family. It didn’t occur to me that, well, anyone would have seen the world and not understand the evil behind it.”

Bakugou clicks his tongue, averting his eyes, and Shouto feels his heart drop to his stomach, “You speak like that was ages ago, Half n’ Half bastard. That wasn’t even a month ago.”

“Yes, and, yet, that time has sufficed for me to understand that I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

Part of him expects Bakugou to yell at him or even threaten him the way he did not too many days ago, but, instead, all Bakugou does is let out a clearly annoyed sigh and say, “Well, those shitty rumors are even more effective than I thought, if even the Prince thought of something like that.”

Shouto frowns, realization sinking in, “You don’t actually like those rumors.”

“Congratulations on the outstanding discovery, Half n’ Half.”

“It isn’t easy to read you, as you must know,” Shouto says, shrugging, “And, well, even if we do get along well now—”

“Who said that?”

“I still thought you were okay with them until just now,” He shrugs again, “If you don’t like them, isn’t there a way to shut them down?”

“What, do I fly around in the fire-spitting dragon throwing flowers and non-explosive fruits at people as a peace offer? Do I do that in every single kingdom in the world? And, at which point exactly do I leave? When they grab their swords, their crossbows or their magic crafts to supposedly protect themselves from us?”

“There is no need to sound so condescending, you know.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but his tone changes when he speaks again, “Well, regardless of that, I guess I should thank you for telling me the truth. If you hadn’t, the nerd would have, and then I would have gone for your neck for hiding it in the first place. It was a wise choice, Your Highness.”

Pursing his lips into a smile, Shouto nods, “Thank you for being understanding, Bakugou.”

“’Understanding’ my ass. You’re still going to have to work hard to make me forget you actually bought the idea that I would know how an assassin acts. What was that nonsense about knowing the world and its evil? You’re a brat, that’s what you are. The only royal member that’s not an asshole is a brat.”

Shouto rolls his eyes a little, but there is a good feeling settling in his chest. He can tell the difference now, between the way Bakugou talked to him before and the way he talks now. He also knows that being called “the only royal member that’s not an asshole” is Bakugou’s version of a compliment, so he takes it.

“By the way,” Bakugou drawls, “I didn’t want to tell you this before, but screw it. Your fighting posture is shit. You would’ve lost to me anyway, but it was painful to look at.”

Shouto frowns, “That is not true. I mastered the posture the swordsman that worked for my father taught me.”

“Precisely why it’s shit. Not everything is going to play by your rules, Half n’ Half, and you need to make sure you can intimidate people with your presence before you make any movements, otherwise it’s worthless. I feel no fear when I look at your stiff posture, and I can assure you no one else will.”

A bold statement, really. The King always had the best instructors take care of his children, and he would be baffled by the idea of a man as young as Bakugou daring to say his methods were wrong. The mere thought of Bakugou being able to annoy his father so much puts a smile on Shouto’s face.

“Well, then,” Shouto gets up, “Teach me.”

Bakugou looks up at him, squinting, “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Teach me.”

Giving him a weird look, Bakugou seems to contemplate his options. On one hand, he could simply shrug him off and pretend he didn’t hear the request. On the other, he doesn’t appear to be the kind of person who wouldn’t be willing to teach something to someone whose status should’ve supposedly made them better than him. He has the pride of a king, and Shouto counts on that to convince him.

Gladly, it works.

Bakugou jumps from his sitting position, squinting at Shouto for a moment before grabbing the sword he left next to him. He spins it in his hand easily, and it’s obviously supposed to be a show-off move, but Shouto makes no mention of commenting on it. He grabs the handle and assumes his usual fighting posture, to which Bakugou rolls his eyes.

“Forget the technical shit they taught you,” Bakugou orders, and, as he steps closer, Shouto thinks he sees his expression growing more severe, as if teaching is something he takes, in fact, seriously, “Think of that tree as an opponent—a powerful one. You have to make sure they know you’re there to win. First things first, he has to feel like you’re not taking him seriously, so relax your shoulders. If you’re that tense, everyone will think you’re scared.”

“How am I supposed to relax my shoulders? I need a firm grip.”

“You can manage both,” Bakugou says, stepping closer and grabbing Shouto’s forearm firmly, “Here, you can tense up this part, but your shoulders have to be lower. Didn’t you see my posture back at our duel?”

Shouto gives him a deadpan look, “I was busy at the time, attempting not to get cut.”

“Dramatic asshole. I wasn’t going to cut you,” Bakugou affirms, although Shouto surely doubts that. The barbarian inches even closer, holding Shouto’s shoulders and pulling a little, “Stop. Tensing. Up.”

“I am trying.”

“Well, try harder.”

Shouto sighs, doing as he’s told. Even if he tries to keep his grip as tight as possible and his shoulders relaxed, Bakugou stares at him like he isn’t quite satisfied yet. He walks around him, scrutinizing his posture, and it feels less like being observed by an instructor and more like being judged by a very unlikely acquaintance.

“Here,” Bakugou stops in front of him, and Shouto’s entire body freezes when he brings his hand up, suddenly catching Shouto’s chin between two fingers and angling it up, “Look at the opponent as if you believe they are nothing compared to you. You can’t go lowering your head when facing them.”

Shouto clears his throat, “Fine.”

“And you’re freaking tense again.”

Well, yes. Shouto acknowledges that, this time, he has reasons to be tense. He is centimeters away from Bakugou’s face, and he has never gotten a clearer view of his crimson eyes and the way his constantly unsatisfied lips curl up at the sight of Shouto’s posture. He notices the blood racing through his cheeks and steps away from Bakugou before the barbarian has a chance to notice it as well, and, when Bakugou reaches for the sword in his hand, Shouto nearly drops it—if Bakugou touches his wrist, even by accident, Shouto’s drumming heart won’t be easy to conceal.

“I should probably rest,” Shouto says, hoping that the way he averts his eyes won’t be obvious.

Happily, Bakugou seems oblivious to it, and all he says is, “Fine, then. Have the shitty posture for longer. We won’t even have the time to worry about it tomorrow.”

Shouto hopes he’s right.

***

The assassins are hiding on a cave.

According to Bakugou, Kirishima learned from Uraraka how to smell magic elements in the air, and he is absolutely sure that the magic that those people used to move faster than the dragon himself is hovering around them. It leads them straight to the cave, but they haven’t walked in yet. Not without the entire plan set.

“I have a plan,” Bakugou announces, side eyeing Kirishima, “But it’s going to depend on how willing you are to use your powers, Shitty Hair.”

Shouto frowns, “You don’t intend to break into the place by burning anything, do you?”

“Nah, too much work to make sure we don’t hurt Deku in the process,” Bakugou says, crossing his arms, “There’s a way, but it’s up to Shitty Hair to know if he wants to go that way. Also, it’s up to him whether he would like for you to know what his secret technique or whatever is.”

Kirishima sighs, “Bakugou makes everything seems bigger than it is.”

“I do not.”

“It’s nothing big, Todoroki,” Kirishima says, looking at him, “It just takes up a lot more of my power from the moment I use my fire, because it’s an unnatural shapeshifting technique. If I do it, we might have a limited amount of time before I get exhausted and pass out. I don’t want to be a dead weight, so I would need to know that both of you can take care of things if I run out of time.”

Shouto frowns harder, “It sounds very unsafe to me.”

“My natural shapeshifter form is a huge, fire-spitting dragon, right?” Kirishima asks, and Shouto nods, “Well, this technique consists in the opposite. I can turn into the smallest dragon in the world: a lizard. I can still spit fire and use my claws and teeth, but this is more about the surprise element.”

“I pretend to turn you over,” Bakugou begins, drawing Shouto’s eyes, “And Kirishima goes in with you in his lizard form. As soon as you find Deku in there, he uses his fire to show me where you are, and I’ll find you. The main point is that you get to find Deku. If we just break in at once, they might hide him. If you find him and Kirishima passes out right after sending me the signal, I will be right there, and we will take care of them by ourselves. The goal here—”

“Is to ensure Midoriya’s safety,” Shouto finishes, meeting his eyes and nodding firmly, “If that plan works for Kirishima, it works for me as well.”

Kirishima flashes him a smile, “Well, then, Your Highness…”

As it happens before he turns into his dragon form, smoke wraps its arms around Kirishima and he disappears, only to reappear seconds later—as a lizard, bright red, next to Shouto’s boot. He climbs his way up Shouto’s legs, torso and arms, reaching his hand. Shouto stretches out his arms with his palm up.

“Where should I keep him?”

“Just put him on your shoulder. They won’t pay him any mind regardless.”

Shouto does. He can feel every part of his body shaking, and, honestly, he doesn’t think it’s possible to blame him, but he doesn’t demonstrate the slightest hint of fear. He puts on his best nonchalant expression, goes through the plan with Bakugou one more time and shoves down the bad thoughts.

Once they are done, though, Bakugou doesn’t immediately send him off. He stops, squints hard at him and speaks in a tone that’s nearly a whisper, “Now, listen here, Half n’ Half. I’m trusting you to ensure Deku’s safety, and I’m trusting you to get Kirishima there successfully, but I—shit, can’t believe I’m telling you this—I’m also trusting you to get out of there unharmed. This isn’t a negotiation.”

Shouto blinks, caught off guard. Over the past few days, he has seen Bakugou in lots of moods—from extremely angry at the beginning to somewhat even playful—but it had never occurred to him so far that he would get to see that expression on his face. The unreadable expression that makes the red sparkle in his eyes even more evident.

Here’s the thing: Bakugou is beautiful. Shouto might be a Prince with too much on his head to think about anything else at this point, but he also only human. If he were to pretend Bakugou is anything but beautiful, he would be lying to himself—and if he were to say that the contrast between his appearance and his personality isn’t a good match, he would be lying even harder. They still barely know each other, but Shouto uses that moment alone to set the decision that he will get to know him.

Shouto places Kirishima on the ground for a moment. Before Bakugou gets the chance to ask him why, he gathers up the courage he has been keeping deep inside himself and inches closer to him, cupping his face and pulling him closer. Bakugou inhales sharply and Shouto looks right into his eyes, feeling comforted by the way Bakugou’s cheeks turn pink as to mirror his own.

“Fine, then,” He says, and his own voice is barely a whisper, “I will get out of there unharmed.”

He forces himself to pull away right after that, the feeling of his heart threatening to jump out of his ribcage consuming him way too much, but he doesn’t expect Bakugou to grab his collar and pull him back. Shouto nearly trips over his own feet, but Bakugou’s nose is close enough to brush against his and he feels like he might combust.

“Finish what you started,” Bakugou groans, and he looks down at Shouto’s lips and Shouto can see the question in his eyes. Trembling and secretly feeling grateful that Bakugou is bold enough to make the move he intended to make, he nods. And then Bakugou pulls him forward one more time, pressing their lips together.

His chest is in flames and he swears there is ringing in his ears, but Shouto can’t seem to mind any of that. Bakugou’s lip are nothing like someone would picture them—they are soft and gentle. He is. They don’t have much time, and, even if Shouto thinks they might have left that for another time if they had thought about it, he realizes when Bakugou pulls away that he doesn’t regret it for a second. His eyes flutter open and he finds Bakugou’s stare on him, intense as always.

“I’m going to be so absurdly mad at you if you make this a goodbye, Todoroki Shouto.”

Shouto swallows, shaking his head firmly, “I won’t.”

***

They are waiting for him.

As soon as Shouto steps into the cave, he sees two men standing there—tall, strong-looking—and inhales deeply. He can feel Kirishima’s tiny claws on his shoulder and he hopes, for their sake, that Bakugou is right and that he will go unnoticed.

“Why, hello, Your Royal Highness,” One of the man cracks a smile, gesturing to the inside of the cave. It appears they used some sort of magic to dig in as deep as possible. “Please, do accompany us. I apologize for not having the most comfortable accommodations for your enjoyment, but, well, don’t worry. That will not be a concern for long.”

Shouto swallows, following the men inside. He hopes whatever fire Kirishima has in that lizard form is enough to draw Bakugou’s attention when they are deep into that cave. He isn’t bringing his own sword with him, and he is counting purely on Kirishima’s fire as a distraction so that he can steal one of theirs. He already sees two on those men’s hips.

They walk for a little longer, and then Shouto is shown to a room inside the cave. It’s spacious, and Shouto wonders if whoever did all of that for them is still there—the magic user, that is. He remembers Jirou saying Uraraka worked like most of the witches: she did something for money and then she flew away. He truly hopes those men worked with a witch that followed the same rules.

He scans the room, little by little, and he freezes when he finally sees Midoriya. He looks… bad. His clothes are evidently dirty, there are enormous dark bags under his eyes and his hair is all over the place. Luckily, there are no visible injuries, and Shouto doubts they would bother to hide any. He nearly lets out a sigh of relief, but then he acknowledges that his safety is not yet reassured. There are still things to be done.

“Let him go,” Shouto orders, remembering Bakugou’s advices and tilting his chin up, “I am here, and I am making the trade. Let him go.”

At the sound of Shouto’s voice, Midoriya nearly snaps his neck with how quickly he looks up. His innocent eyes widen impossibly, and he opens his mouth, visibly unsure of what to say. Shouto feels Kirishima moving on his shoulder and entering Midoriya’s sight, and that is when Midoriya’s jaw positively drops to the floor.

“You know what,” One of the men says, cracking his knuckles, “I might not. I mean, we finally have the King’s pride here with us, but why would we let him give us orders?”

“You are terribly mistaken,” Shouto squints, “If you think any of this makes a difference to my father.”

“Oh, don’t worry, royal spoiled kid. We know your siblings are much more precious than you are to the kingdom,” He spits out, and Shouto breathes in, “We took you because, you see, even assassins have boundaries they won’t cross. We wanted to affect them, without causing a revolution or whatever it is that the people would be willing to do if we took Touya, Natsuo or Fuyumi. Besides, let’s be honest… no one would be easier to follow and manipulate than you are.”

If this had happened years ago, Shouto might have had a reaction. He might have felt bad, might have even crumbled. Now, though, this isn’t anything he has never heard around the kingdom before. It didn’t break his confidence—it only taught him that people will talk, regardless of whatever he does. He is here, and he left the entire kingdom behind, just so that he could help his friend. Screw their opinion. He is only thankful that the man keeps on talking and talking, because it’s making it easier for lizard Kirishima to make small gestures and try to make Midoriya understand their plan. Shouto notices he truly did when his eyes widen—again—and he takes that as a proper cue.

“Allow me to say this for the last time,” Shouto says, “Fulfill your part of the exchange. Release Midoriya.”

The other assassin grins, wicked and mischievous, “No.”

Shouto clicks his tongue, “Oh, well, then. Kirishima?”

He breaches himself, and he is glad he did—when Kirishima jumps from his shoulder and opens his mouth, the size of the flames that lick the entire room is greater than he could ever imagine. He understands now, why this must be so exhausting. It’s such a small body to bear the impact of that, and, yet, the amount of fire that comes from within him is enough to convince someone it came from a full-sized dragon.

The assassins scream. Shouto runs towards one of them, sliding to the floor with one leg stretched out, and he feels a wave of satisfaction at the sight of his boot colliding with the man’s shin and making him fall. The Prince surges forward, trying to grab the sword against the assassin’s hip, but the man immediately grabs his wrist. Gladly, Shouto manages to raise his free leg and bring it down against the man’s stomach. It is barely enough to make him cough hard, but it suffices for Shouto to steal the sword and jump back to his legs.

The flames are no longer engulfing them, and Kirishima is back to his human form, supporting his back on the wall and gripping his stomach. He looks absolutely exhausted. Shouto runs towards Midoriya first, helping him up and taking advantage of the last few moments of confusion from the assassins. Midoriya tries saying something, but Shouto quickly takes him closer to where Kirishima is, and then he lets them support each other while putting himself in front of them, gripping the sword’s handle as if his life depends on it—and it does.

He remembers, then. Shoulders relaxed and chin up. Look superior. Intimidate them before fighting them.

He does just that, and, for a few moments only, it works.

The assassins hesitate, and that hesitation lasts for practically no time, but it is still long enough for Bakugou to reach them. None of them see him coming until he is doing his classic move, hitting the pommel of his sword against his nape and throwing him to the ground. The other one goes against Shouto, and Shouto swings forward to stop him from coming closer. When the man begins raising his leg to kick his wrist, Shouto recognizes that as the move he used himself—and, for that, he knows how to stop it. He spins the sword, not as gracefully as Bakugou does, but still, and the man’s leg hits the hilt instead. He pulls back, ready to attack again, but Bakugou pulls him by his shoulders and causes his back to hit the ground.

“Here,” Shouto helps Midoriya place an arm over his shoulder while Bakugou ties the assassins’ wrists with the rope he had in his bag. Shouto offers Kirishima help as well, but the shapeshifter offers him a tired smile and claims he will recover in no time as long as he gets to breathe a little. “Are you feeling okay? Did they hurt you?”

Midoriya shakes his head shortly, “No, they didn’t, they just… Kacchan, what are you doing here?”

Bakugou detains himself, looking up from the men and at Midoriya. Shouto sees many emotions going through his face at that moment, but, if he has to point out the most important, relevant and visible one, it would be relief. He also thinks it’s quite impossible for Midoriya not to see it.

“You’re an idiot, Deku. The next time a group of assassins kidnaps you, don’t count on me to break into the castle and yell at those shitty royals for you. Seriously, making me go through all this trouble, and for what? Couldn’t you just not help Princes when they come and ask for you? Is that too much to ask?”

“Kacchan.”

“What, Deku? What is it?”

Midoriya smiles, and Shouto can’t help but mirror it a little. Bakugou squints at him, still obviously irritated, but there is no harshness to it. Even Kirishima lets out a low laugh.

“Thank you, Kacchan.”

Bakugou huffs, “Whatever, nerd. Let’s get you home.”

***

The eight-day trip back is mostly filled with taking care of Midoriya, making sure Kirishima is doing okay despite flying so much, trying not to get on Bakugou’s bad side, since, apparently, he has been even more easily annoyed lately, and thinking about the consequences of his actions.

There are no major events like the ones from the time they were going to get him. They don’t run into knights or royals, neither do they duel or talk about anything deep. Bakugou snaps at Midoriya once or twice, going on and on about how imprudent and careless he is, and Midoriya looks greatly satisfied with the concern. Shouto also has moments where he simply sits beside Midoriya and apologizes for dragging him into this, but Midoriya always shrugs it off with a smile.

It is on their last day of traveling that Shouto acknowledges the possibility that Bakugou’s sudden bad mood might have been caused by him.

They are resting around a bonfire, and Kirishima is talking about something that happened while he was with Ashido and Kaminari months ago. Midoriya laughs most of the time, and, at some point, so does Bakugou. When Shouto speaks, though, Bakugou’s smile immediately disappears, and he takes that as a clear-as-water cue to do something about this.

“I will get more water,” He announces, getting up, “Bakugou, can you come with me?”

“What, Half n’ Half, do you need help getting water now?”

“Bakugou,” Shouto speaks again, and his tone is deeper and less composed now. It’s effective enough to even cease Kirishima and Midoriya’s conversation. Bakugou looks up and meets his eyes. Shouto sighs, “Please.”

That does it. Bakugou gets up and follows Shouto toward the river, and the atmosphere around thicken at every moment. Shouto has come up with lots of theories so far—he thinks Bakugou might have regretted kissing him, or he might even have only done that in order to motivate the Prince in a way. There is, of course, also the possibility that Bakugou only ever changed around him so they could coexist peacefully before rescuing Midoriya. That one, though, Shouto chooses to ignore for a while.

Shouto crouches down before the river and quietly fills the water canteens. Bakugou crosses his arms, squinting at him, “What is it, Half n’ Half?”

Shouto sighs, getting up and staring right into his eyes. He is a few centimeters taller than Bakugou, but, somehow, he feels smaller now.

“Have I done something wrong?”

Bakugou’s right brow quirks up, “What?”

“Please, don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean, Bakugou. If there is anything you would like to say, say it, but don’t turn your back on me at this point,” Shouto requests, and he watches the way Bakugou’s expression darkens, “Listen, if this is about what happened before I went into the cave, I can never mention it again.”

“Oh, would that make you comfortable?”

Shouto squints, “This isn’t about me.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Woah, Bakugou, really, what have I done to you?” Shouto asks, and his tone comes off even more frustrated and unsteady than he thought, “Tell me. Please. I want to know, because, tomorrow, I will be back at the castle, and I don’t want to go back in there thinking I majorly ruined anything with you—”

Bakugou clicks his tongue, “That’s the problem, Half n’ Half bastard. Shit, do you expect me to be someone who’s used to talking things out? Do I look like it? Haven’t you seen Deku’s reaction when I walked in? He couldn’t believe I came all the way here to save him because I suck at talking and expressing my feelings or whatever these are.”

Shouto squints, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re going back to the castle,” Bakugou says, and he points a finger at Shouto’s chest, “And you’re going back to your ‘His Royal Highness’ life, and we are never going to see each other again, so I’m just making things easier for me. Screw it, I’m just this selfish. I won’t let you get into my head just to disappear right after.”

Oh. Shouto blinks, caught off guard by the revelation. Of all the things he could have pictured Bakugou saying, that wasn’t remotely one of the options. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered the consequences of returning to the castle in the past few days—but that’s simply because, aside from his family, which doesn’t even include his Father, there is nothing left for him there. On the other hand, during the last two weeks, he managed to finally feel like he was doing something worth mentioning, something to be proud of. Those were his thoughts, and he was so absorbed in them that he didn’t even realize Bakugou also had his focus on his return to the castle.

Shouto swallows, shaking his head, “This isn’t fair, Bakugou. This isn’t your decision to make.”

“Hah?”

“I mean it. You don’t get to decide whether I am about to disappear or not,” Shouto affirms, and he takes a step closer to Bakugou. Now, he feels taller. “If you’re not good at expressing yourself with words, then that’s fine. Lots of people aren’t. Sometimes, even I am not. It doesn’t change the fact that there are other ways to show what you’re feeling that don’t include pushing me away or erasing me from your mind when you see fit.”

Bakugou glares at him, a challenge clear in his eyes when he asks, “Yeah? How else am I supposed to show that?”

The intention behind his words is clear, and Shouto thinks, oh, well, they have time to sit and talk later. He said it himself that there are other ways to express oneself, and, now, he must compromise and be able to show Bakugou that, in the same way Bakugou showed him that he had no intention of allowing him not to come back from that cave.

He inches closer, places one hand on Bakugou’s shoulder and the other on his jaw. He feels it tense under his touch and breathes in, looking into Bakugou’s eyes.

“Can I—”

“Yes, Todoroki.”

Shouto kisses him.

It’s messier than when Bakugou kissed him—instead of softy slotting their mouths together, their lips crash, and it feels more overwhelming than it did the first time. He thinks it might have to do with the fact that, this time, they aren’t in a hurry. They have to leave in the morning, but it’s still evening, and they still have time.

Bakugou’s hands are suddenly resting on his back, and, apparently, he is better at this than Shouto, because he establishes a rhythm that turns the kiss into something softer, something gentler. Hard to believe, Shouto would have said a few weeks ago, but not anymore. There is happiness bubbling in his chest, and he fails in suppressing a smile.

Bakugou pulls away slightly, visibly holding back a smirk when Shouto chases after him, “Are you happy now, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that anymore,” Shouto says, staring back into Bakugou’s eyes, attempting to reach for his soul, “But show me your feelings again.”

He draws a low chuckle from the back of Bakugou’s throat, and, then, he complies.

***

Midoriya Inko insists on hosting them a ‘thank you dinner’ before Shouto heads back to the castle and Bakugou and Kirishima leave again.

Embarrassed, Shouto attempts to decline the invitation, but he finds himself unable to when even Midoriya claims that he should stay. Now, even if the last time he was there, it completely turned into a mess for Midoriya, but the man still wants him to stay around for a while, the least Shouto could do is stay.

“I will send some guards to take care of your house,” Shouto tells Midoriya’s mother, “I apologize for the inconvenient, and I will take are of it right away.”

“Oh, dear, there is nothing to apologize for!”

“Yes, there is. Please, allow me.”

She offers him a gentle smile, “Well, then, thank you very much, Your Highness. Oh, I should apologize one more time for requesting your help in such a short notice, Katsuki. And I should also thank you one more time for rescuing my boy. I knew your friendship would surpass the barriers of distance.”

Shouto catches the moment Bakugou’s ears turn pink and suppresses a smile. Kirishima, on the other hand, doesn’t. He lets out a laugh, and Bakugou threatens him, and Midoriya walks back into the kitchen with a bowl in his hands, asking them not to destroy their table while he serves the food. The natural way they talk to each other, the easy-going atmosphere and their friendship overall warms Shouto’s heart, but it also breaks a little, because, well… Momo.

He misses her, obviously. He is also concerned about her. According to Inko, there were plenty of rumors about how the barbarian kidnapped the Prince and asked for rescue, and the royal family was still trying to negotiate with him in order not to hurt their younger child. Touya made a public statement regarding the subject, claiming that Shouto was away for a trip that was necessary, but that he would return soon. Shouto couldn’t help but smile at that—at the thought that his brother had such faith in him. But, then, there is Momo. It’s been over two weeks. As the person who helped Shouto go against the King’s orders…

“Yes, it appears that the Prince has his head elsewhere entirely.”

“Your Highness? Is everything okay?”

Shouto blinks, driven away from his thoughts by Kirishima and Midoriya’s voices. Inko isn’t in the kitchen anymore—she probably thought it would be best to leave them for a while—and the plates are all served already, including his own. He managed to get his head in the clouds for longer than he noticed.

“I’m thinking about the castle,” He says, meeting Bakugou’s eyes for a moment, “I am fully aware it won’t be easy for me, having to face my father and justify my actions, but that’s not my main concern at the moment. I have a friend, Dame Momo, who helped me escape my room that day. If I know the King well enough, she must have been pushed away from her duties, and there is the possibility of being accused of high treason.”

“Well, then,” Bakugou shrugs, “Let’s go make sure she’s okay.”

Shouto blinks, “What?”

“What do you mean by ‘what’? I broke into the castle once, I can do it twice,” Bakugou says, and Shouto thinks he might be simply joking, but then he sees the way Kirishima’s face lights up at the idea and Midoriya nodding firmly, as if showing support, “Oh, come on. You went up against assassins a few days ago. Are you really scared of those knights?”

“I’m the Prince.”

“Yes, and you hate it,” He argues. It’s effective enough for Shouto to stop talking. “Haven’t you mentioned you’re going to be punished either way? Well, at least do something worth punishing. Want to see what the castle looks like from the top of a dragon, Half n’ Half bastard?”

Shouto blinks, eyes going from Bakugou to Kirishima, from Kirishima to Midoriya, and from Midoriya back to Bakugou. Midoriya raises a thumbs-up and smiles, saying, “If the worst happens, you can always take shelter in my house.”

“Freaking Deku.”

“It’s not that dangerous, Kacchan!”

“Are you…” Shouto begins, drawing their eyes to him, “Are you absolutely sure that is something you would be willing to do?”

Bakugou looks back at him, grinning, “The question here is, are you?”

“I think you should give it a long thought, Your Highness,” Midoriya says, and Shouto knows, by that tone of his, that he is about to hear something that he would rather not think about at all, “With all due respect, it isn’t common for the King to forgive insolence. Even if you think about what you’ve done so far, it was nothing compared to the idea of siding with someone like Kacchan and breaking into the castle like that.”

“What do you mean ‘someone like Kacchan’, hah, shitty nerd?”

“You know what I mean, Kacchan,” Midoriya looks back at Shouto, “All I’m saying is, perhaps doing all of this isn’t going to help you fit back into the royal family routine. Your siblings are always extra careful with their public appearances and they always make sure to shut down scandals, but this would start one instead. I would support you, of course, as I’ve said before, but it’s something you must do with all of those consequences in mind, Your Highness.”

Shouto sighs. He knows Midoriya is right. He knows it’s a risk to stand up to his father, to act on his own and still believe he deserves his perks as a Prince—not that he ever asked for them, because he did. It was in his family’s behalf that he stayed on his best behavior all these years, and, at this point, he knows even his siblings are aware of how dull life in the castle is for him.

There a possibility, though.

“How hard is it,” He begins, turning to look at Bakugou, who frowns at him, “Being a traveler?”

Midoriya nearly drops the bowl in his hand. Kirishima widens his eyes, letting out a surprised laugh. And, after taking a look at their reactions, Shouto looks back at the barbarian.

Bakugou smirks.

***

The castle has always looked unsurprisingly big from the inside. Shouto remembers wandering around the hallways at night, wishing his steps would slowly make the entire place shrink to the size of at least one of their enormous rooms. He always thought there were way too many empty spaces in there, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Now, from the outside, while standing on top a dragon, the castle looks the way Shouto always wished it would look—small.

The knights are waiting for them, crossbows and swords ready, but they all cease any possible attack the moment their eyes land on Shouto. Huh. Apparently, his authority as the Prince has not yet become null. That is about to change, though, which means Shouto needs to make the best of this.

Kirishima flies close to the windows and Shouto points at one of the knights while using his other hand to support his weight on a scale.

“Let me in,” Shouto orders, and, nearly immediately, the knight opens the windows. Shouto doesn’t immediately jump off Kirishima, though. He squints at the men, saying, “The barbarian and his dragon are my guests. If anyone dares to harm them, you will answer to me.”

He slides into the castle right after, looking above his shoulder to meet Bakugou’s crimson eyes quickly. Bakugou nods firmly. Shouto mirrors the gesture, turns to the knights and scrutinizes them. According to the conflicted look on their faces, it isn’t likely that the King has had many compliments for the youngest Prince lately, but it also isn’t evident that he chose to accuse him of treason and strip him off his duties yet.

Good.

“Your Highness,” One of the knights begins, lowering her sword slowly, “His Majesty wishes to talk to you immediately.”

Shouto inhales, “Excellent. Tell His Majesty to meet me at his meeting room. Please, also say request my siblings’ presence, as well as my mother’s and Dame Momo’s.”

There is part of him that’s terribly scared that they are going to claim they can’t bring Momo, either because she has been imprisoned or simply unauthorized to stay in the castle. However, despite the initial shock on their expressions, the knights are quick to nod and dissipate. Some of them stay, though, most of them being the ones with the crossbows, and Shouto breathes in before speaking up again.

“Remember my words. If anything happens to them… there will be consequences.”

While walking to his father’s meeting room, Shouto feels hundreds of eyes on him, and it’s difficult to believe not a single soul has been ordered to immediately have him arrested as soon as he arrived. Of course, they might be frightened by the idea that Shouto now has the barbarian and a dragon on his side, but that wouldn’t stop the most loyal of them to confront him. Unfortunately, the title of King carries more weight than the idea of being turned to ashes by a creature.

The meeting room is empty. Shouto considers the possibility of taking the center chair out of spite—he knows that is something Bakugou would tell him to do, and the thought nearly makes him suppress a smile—but that would cause a disturbance in the room before he even manages to get a word out. That is something he cannot allow, for there are a few words he needs out at the moment.

There is a sound coming from the hallway. The first person to walk through the door, eyes widened, and jaw dropped, is Natsuo.

Shouto smiles, “Brother—”

He barely has a chance of beginning his sentence before Natsuo is right in front of him, grabbing his shoulders, scrutinizing him with still-widened eyes. Finally, he pulls Shouto closer and hugs him. Shouto blinks, slightly caught off guard, and then it hits him—despite the hope in Touya’s words in his public appearance, they probably didn’t actually think Shouto would return.

“I’m okay,” Shouto says, hugging his brother back, “I’m safe now.”

“What happened?” Natsuo asks, and, when he pulls away, still holding Shouto’s shoulders, there are tears in his eyes, “How did you—I thought you were going to turn yourself over to the assassins. Shouto, for the sake of everything that is good, why would you scare us like that?”

Shouto purses his lips, “Forgive me. I never meant to scare you.”

“Did you think we would be okay with this?”

Before he has the chance to part his lips and say something else, two other presences enter the room. Shouto barely registers what’s happening before he feels one more pair of arms around him, tight and familiar. He lets out a sigh, returning the hug as well.

“Hi, Fuyumi.”

“You are such a trouble child,” She says, burying her face on his shoulder, “Making dangerous decisions on your own, trying to save the world—”

“Without giving a single care,” says a third voice, and Shouto recognizes the other presence as his oldest brother. Unlike Natsuo and Fuyumi, Touya looks nothing like he is about to cry. Instead, there is a severe expression on his face and his lips are pulled into a straight line. “Leaving us with no knowledge of your whereabouts for over two weeks.”

“Brother—”

“Showing up on top of the dragon that dragged you away from us,” Touya proceeds, clearly not bearing the idea of being interrupted right now, “Ordering our knights not to harm him or his rider. Did you at least bring the commoner back, Shouto? Safely?”

Shouto swallows, “Yes.”

“Well, did that suffice?” He quirks up his right brow, “Has your rebel state calmed itself down after all of this?”

“Touya,” Fuyumi begins, pursing her lips, “That’s enough. We were all scared.”

“Scared?” Touya frowns, and Shouto doesn’t think he has ever seen him this annoyed. He steps forward, towards them, and proceeds, “I wasn’t scared, Shouto. I hope you know that. I was never simply scared, I was terrified. The knights saw you getting on that dragon, they heard what the barbarian said to you, about trading you for the commoner, and they saw it when the man that took you defeated our best fighter. The entire family spent the last two weeks wondering if you were even alive—”

Shouto finally finds an opening to cut in, saying, “Not the entire family.”

That successfully suffocates Touya’s outburst for a few moments. He stops, letting out a deep, deep sigh, and says, “Look me in the eye and tell me if I look like I care about our father’s opinion, Shouto. I am talking about me, and Fuyumi, and Natsuo, and our mother. We were on the verge of breaking down.”

“I understand that, Touya,” Shouto sighs, “There was nothing I could do. Midoriya was captured because of me. I couldn’t let them hurt an innocent man for a mistake I made.”

“He wasn’t more important than you.”

“To you, maybe,” Shouto says, “But he was more important to other people, and it was unfair that those people were going to lose someone important to them because I was too scared to own up to the things I did. The barbarian, the man you seem so frightened of, he is only a normal person, Touya. He is friends with Midoriya and he wanted to get his friend back. He was doing nothing wrong.”

“He took you.”

“I went willingly.”

“Shouto.”

Shouto stops, and so does Touya, at the sound of their mother’s voice. She stands on the entrance of the room, and, beside her, Shouto sees Momo. They both look safe and healthy, although the dark bags under his mother’s eyes are like a hand wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing. She walks up to him, slowly, and, when she is close enough to hold his face between her delicate hands, she does. Her lips tremble.

“You are safe.”

Shouto swallows down the knot in his throat, “I am, mother. Please, forgive me.”

She smiles as a silent tear runs down her cheek and hugs him. Shouto hugs her back, and, knowing her the way he does, this hug means more than I miss you. It also means there is nothing to forgive, my darling. I am proud of you.

“Your Highness,” Momo bows, entering the room politely, and Shouto, still holding his mother’s hand, watches as she moves closer. She isn’t wearing an armor anymore. There isn’t even a sword on her hip. “I am very glad to know that you came home safe. If there is anything I can do—”

“Momo,” He interrupts, and the formal expression on her face falters, “I missed you.”

Momo breathes in.

“Did my father accuse you of anything?”

“He wasn’t he wasn’t going to accuse her of treason,” Touya says, and now his voice sounds lighter, “As long as she withdraw herself from her duties in the castle.”

“Did you let this happen?”

Touya frowns, “What was I supposed to do, Shouto?”

“Let me ask you for a favor,” Shouto begins, looking into his brother’s eyes, “Use your influence for once. You don’t ever have to do anything for me anymore. I promise this is the last thing I will ever ask from you. Take Momo under your wing, Touya. She is the person I trust the most in this castle, so make her part of your team of knights. Refuse to let my father take her away from the position she loves.”

Momo begins shaking her head, “Your Highness—”

“How insolent.”

They all stop. Shouto raises his eyes, finding his father standing on the other end of the table, jaw clenched, and fists tightened. He looks like he’s about to yell at a hundred nobles for betraying his kingdom and causing war with another one. Two weeks ago, Shouto would lower his head for the sake of the realm.

Not today.

“Hello, father.”

“How can you walk back in here like this? Must you—”

“Forgive me for interrupting, Your Majesty,” Shouto says, squinting, “But I am in a hurry, so, please, allow me to speak for the meantime.”

Luckily, that appears to shock the King for long enough for Shouto to inhale, gather up his courage and talk.

“The assassins have been taken care of,” He begins, “For the meanwhile, that is. We have no idea whether there are more of them out there, but something I did understand during this mission of mine is that they have no intention of attacking any of my siblings. Their target was someone important, but also unimportant, and they saw the perfect target in me. Thank you for that, father.”

Anger. Annoyance. Everything swirls in the King’s eyes, but Shouto keeps talking.

“I have also learned in this journey that I detest this castle. It’s too big, and the hallways are always so empty, and, yet, there always seems to be someone watching me whenever I go. It’s uncomfortable, and the only things I love about it are reunited in this room right now. And I wouldn’t say I love everything that is in this room.”

Natsuo lets out an involuntary chuckle. Shouto talks more, just in case he needs to suffocate that.

“Something I do love, though, is traveling. And, because of that, and for the protection and safety of everyone in this castle, I will be riding you of my presence, father. Touya will have Fuyumi and Natsuo on his side when he becomes King, and, then, the kingdom will have the best King it could ever ask for. Until then, they will help each other as Princes and Princess, and you won’t even notice that I am gone.”

Touya blinks, “Shouto—”

“I apologize for scaring you,” Shouto says, now looking at his siblings, at his mother and at Momo, “I won’t do it again. I will send you letters, and I will keep you updated on everything. Please, understand, though. This isn’t the place I want for me. All I am asking is your comprehension and… well, a single horse.”

Fuyumi laughs despite her tears.

“You will be stripped off your perks as a Prince,” His father warns.

Shouto smiles, “My biggest pleasure.”

“Where will you go?” His mother asks, squeezing his hand, “And with whom? The barbarian?”

“His name is Bakugou Katsuki, mother,” He says gently, “And, yes, and also, no. I will travel with them for a while, considering I am still new at this, but I won’t be stuck to them. I won’t be stuck to anything, ever again. That is something I know for certain, from the bottom of my heart.”

Momo purses her lips, “Your Highness…”

“Is no longer a title of mine.”

She pauses for a moment, then says, “Todoroki.”

“Yes, Momo?”

“I am sure you will be the most legendary traveler there is.”

He smiles, and it’s genuine. They all know that. When he turns to Touya, his brother speaks before he does, “I know. Dame Yaoyorozu Momo, from now on, will become leader of my team of knights, taking into consideration her strength, loyalty and potential, as long as there are no objections from the King. Is that alright, father?

Shouto looks at him. Even as the King, he still needs to keep the peace. He needs Touya to succeed him willingly, and he needs diplomatic relationships with the children that are left as part of the royal family. Even if he wants to explode and tell them to never show up in front of him again, being bound by the ropes of being the King, he can’t.

“There are no objections. You, however, Shouto—”

“I know,” Shouto cuts in, squinting, “I will leave immediately.”

His siblings, his mother and Momo escort him outside. When they get to the window, Shouto suppresses a relieved sigh at the sight of Bakugou and Kirishima, still there, unharmed and waiting for him. His eyes meet Bakugou’s and he nods slightly. Bakugou grins at that.

“Letters,” Fuyumi says, pointing at his chest.

“Don’t do anything imprudent,” Natsuo reminds him.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” Touya demands. “We will send a knight with the horse to the entrance of the castle for you.”

His mother takes his face on her hands one more time, caressing his cheeks and smiling, “If this makes you happy, make sure to let me know that you’re happy. Otherwise, come back. You are always welcome back into your mother’s arms, Shouto.”

He breathes in, holding back his emotions at those words, and hugs his family one by one. He also exchanges a last quick smile with Momo, and he knows he is going to miss his friend the way he will miss his family, but he can get Touya to direct his letters to her as well. It’s going to work.

Shouto supports a foot on the window’s edge and stretches out his arms. Without even thinking, Bakugou grabs his hand and pulls him. Shouto gains balance on top of the dragon with a lot more ease now, as if he was already used to it. When he turns to wave goodbye at his family, his hand is still on Bakugou’s.

“The horse will be at the entrance of the castle,” He informs.

“Fine. Let’s go, then, before those assholes change their minds and start shooting at us.”

Shouto nods, and, as Kirishima starts flying, he feels the weight of the responsibility he has been carrying all this time being removed from his chest, from his back, from his throat. He looks at the sky above them and smiles at the thought of reaching for it without springs pulling his feet down.

And, even as they begin flying, he never releases Bakugou’s hand.