Work Header

I See Fire

Chapter Text

Kirishima was not-really enjoying a cup of very warm, very disgusting rum when the door of the pub opened, the dim light from the moon outlining a tall, muscular figure.
The whispers started inmediately.

He’d been in town long enough to know that gossip was not a common thing: such a small village only coud be the home to a certain amount of people, which meant that everybody knew everything. There was basically no secrets amongst them (he’d been sure he heard that everyone had had at least one sexual encounter with a neighbour. Too much hunger, too little fishes in the sea). He couln’t be blamed for using his very-sensitive hearing to try and catch what’s so important about this guy.

“That asswipe, I was sure he’d burn his ass this time” was the guy sitting next to him. His friend burped and frowned.

“My wife goes crazy every time he comes. ‘Why don’t you tame beasts like him! Why don’t you excercise more!” His voice turned patetically high-pitched “That slut’s getting to nerves.”

The oh-so-hated man walked straight to the counter, where he let five pieces of copper fall from his scarred hands. He sat next to Kirishima, his eyes hidden from sight thanks to the shadow the chandelier casted.

“Two pork pieces” he grunted, then, catching the two men past Kirishima, he growled, voice slightly higher. “The fuck ye looking at?”

They shifted uncomfortably, suddenly not wanting to speak ill of the guy. He would have laughed if the intimidation hadn’t got to him too. The man scowled and turned at the shelves of different bottles of alcohol.

Kirishima tried to inspect him quickly. He had ashen blonde messy hair that despite being straight, did not fall flat on his head, having a rather spiky shape. His skin was pale and smooth, but with patches of dirt. Pretty handsome looking, if you asked Kirishima, yet his good looks were completly ruined by his lack of clothes.

That didn’t mean his body wasn’t handsome; His defined pecs led to a set of well formed, pale abs littered by scars. Long and dark scratches all over his torso, scar tissue over scar tissue. But his god-like complexión seemed lost by his dirty pants, ragged red cape with fur on top and the not one or two, but four beaded necklaces falling on his chest.
He looked barbarian in a small village of farmers.

Kirishima was turning his gaze off of the guy, when he caught a glimpse of blue. His breath hitched inside his throat.

The second shortest necklace had three big, drop shaped beads. Three big, Sharp beads of an angry bright blue. Darkest at the rounder part, shining against the light of the fire on the walls. The longest necklace had another set of three similar beads, ever so slightly smaller than the others. The top and third necklaces were orange and red, with even smaller little shapes. Too familiar shapes.

Tooth shapes. Dragon tooths.

He felt sick.

“At least he’s leaving tonight” said the man inmediatly at his left. “Chief only called him to take care of the dragon-thing, and he never stays afterwards."

“With such a job” his friend said, lowering his voice, “He’s not gonna stay alive. Ha, Kira will finally shut up.”

A dark haired lady came with a dish full of pork meat, the smell winning his own disgusting rum breath. He felt his stomach growl, but he ignored it. The blonde ate in silence, not minding the quick glances Kirishima send at him every now and then, his heart beating painfully inside his chest.

He got dragon tooths hanging on his chest. He was known for ‘taking care’ of ‘dragon things’, whatever that meant. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

He was a dragon-slayer. And he was sitting next to him.

His mind suddenly took him back to when he was just a small kid running around large patches of long green grass, before discovering his bloodline, when he was ignorant towards the fact that his oh so kind and loveable father had once fucked a dragon. Not knowing his heritage was just a small fraction of his childhood though, since at five he discovered he could grow red wings from inside his back and make his nails transform into claws. He’d been so scared seeing the red scales grow all along his forearms, hard and pointy.

His father explained a thirteen-restriction version of why he could turn into a winged lizard twice his size when he was five. They lived in the countryside, too far from other kingdoms to be in any real danger of being hunted. Just his dad and him, against the world. And altough he was friendly with Mrs Greener and her children, he never told anyone about his secret.

Free to learn how to fly, Kirishima spent most of his time over flying forests, searching for anything useful to his father, even though he was told a dozen times not to use his dragon form to take advantage from other mortals.

“Dragons are, by nature, greedy beings” he used to tell him, “Instincts too strong to help themselves from stealing and damaging things.”

Dad never spoke to him with nothing but kindness.

“But you are not a full dragon, Eijirou”.

Only when Dad passed from old age he allowed himself discover the world. Taking the little money he had, Kirishima flew over the most problematic kingdoms, never staying longer than a couple of months.

All kings were greedy; bathing in gold and diamonds, enclosed inside their big castles. Seven meter tall brick towers that rose above the small houses of the villagers, always with a ton of warrioir to protect them from some other equaly greedy king and his troops of warriors.

Although the remained a myth in some places, dragons were no longer a secret. They were hunted by the same greedy kings who lived pacefully, just because mortals are idiots who like to feel superior than any othen living being. ‘Dragons are, by nature, greedy beings’, well Dad never met a kings, because they were the utter worst. But whenever he heard of a dragon hunt, he felt a little less alone. Because a dragon hunt meant that there were others, others like him.

Well, not fully. But still better than nothing.

At eighteen he met Mina Ashido.

He was staying at a small building for the week, washing dishes and cleaning floors in the same place while she cooked. The girl called his attention the first time he offered the owner of the building work over staying there for a couple of nights. The man nodded with a smile, and Mina inmediately introduced herself.

Daughter of the owner, she worked there with him every afternoon, making dinner and closing the place. She was quite short and had pink hair, always smiling and laughing and Kirishima hadn’t had felt so calm and happy since his fathers passing. When he saw a big, pinkysh dragon flying over the nearest forest, it wans’t hard to guess another halfblood lived there.

She taugh him how to make a stronger fire. How to fly in a more easy way, how to transform quickly and all the dragon details his mortal father never could.

She also taugh him never to give up any of his teeth.

“They are a symbol.” she had said “They have power. They contain our strength. Its a magical thing, I’m not quite sure why. But we need them.”

Dragon teeth weren’t easily broken. They didn’t fall out of nowhere. That was why they were so special to mortals: owning one meant power and superiority over the beast.
Whenever dragons were defeated or killed, their teeth were the first victims: most of them were sold at high prices, or used by warlocks or witches to cast strong spells. Loosing one was like loosing a limb, forced to live half a soul.

Watching at least six dragon tooths hanging from a mortals neck made Kirishima both angry and sick.




Apparetly, the fartest he got towards the dragon-slayer, the more Kirishima learn about him.

His name was Bakugou, and probably something else, but no one seemed to know his name. He was, indeed, the only dragon-slayer that everyone knew that was still alive. He wasn’t one to have a conversation with, and was described by many as a ‘rude asshole’ who didn’t like to be looked at more than necessary. Nobody knew where he lived or if he had any friends. Whenever he was needed to kill a dragon, he just appeared, probably by hearing rumors: when a dragon was a big threat to a village, they sent someone to look for him.

Kirishima wasn’t a bit intimidated by this ‘big bad wolf’ facade. The guy was just another idiotic mortal with a superiority complex who believedd himself cool by actiang like a douche. He was probably a wanna-be warlord or some king’s rebel son, walking around with such dramatic clothes and those damned dragon teeth like he’s invincible.

Well, he was alive. And anything that lived could be killed.

But Kirishima (despite his growing rage) was not about to kill this Bakugou douche (although he was practically asking for it). He just wanted those tooths he wore like trophys. How many dragons had he killed? Was there a teeth for each dragon or each color meant one dragon? It didn’t matter, cause there was no way in hell he was gonna let him have them, self-preservation be damned.

So when the guy stood up and left the pub, Kirishima was jumping on his feet. He left his unfinished rum on the counter and ran towards the exit. Two steps outside, the door closing behind him, he looked ahead of him.

Where did the guy go?

Suddenly he was thrown by the back of his clothes against the closed door of the pub, his neck quickly grabbed by a strong hand while the little air his lungs had was being kicked out of his system thanks to the impact.

Oh, there he was.

“Looking for me, dipshit?” the guy-Bakugou said, grimacing. “The fuck were you doing asking those bastards ‘bout me, huh?” His mind was running fast, what was his lie? Damnit! He should have thought this through.

“I-I, man, I was…!” How was he supposed to think if this guy was choking him? The dragon tooths glistered under the moonlight. “I was looking for you! I need your help! Help from a dragon-slayer!”

In a place where dragons were at least three-meter tall, fire-breathing winged lizard beasts, the nickname should flatter anyone, but the guy seemed angry, annoyed even, but it still caught his attention, as he slightly lessed the pressure against his neck.

“Help? How?” he practically growled. Man, so much for manners.

“I-I have a dragon!” NO. “A-A dragon problem! I need to get rid of it, really.” Bakugou looked at him suspiciously, which meant no good.

“You sure it’s a dragon?” He asked, a tint of mock in his tone. “Could be anything. Stupid ass idiots here think even the smallest scratch is a fucking dragon.”

“No, I’m sure” Kirishima tried to assure.

“How does it look like, huh? Seems like a lie” He said, the pressure on his neck coming back. “And I motherfucking hate liars.”

He gulped, nervous. “It’s like, red and with scales and tail…”

“Sounds like a lizard” Bakugou said.

“No man, it’s like, big as a house. It’s wings are real big…” He tried to recall how he looked whenever he transformed, not that he eyed himself too often. “…And has this leather wings with scales and horns and strong ass legs. Pretty awesome if you ask me…”

“Where.” He demanded. The hand still positioned on top of his neck, but no longer bothering his airways.

“Countryside three villages ahead” he said, not really thinking. Or at least imagining his father and his soft smile, watering the flowers during spring. “The thing flies over night and eats my father’s cattle. Copper’s not easy to get ya’know?”.

That seemed to do it, as Bakugou took a step back, his hand falling to his belt. He probably had weapons he just did not see before.

There was a silence were the blonde seemed to think wheter believe him or not.

Or kill him or not. Kirishima hoped it was anything that resulted in him alive and well.

“Fine” He said, finally. His voice was still a growl “We’ll leave an hour before sunrise, and I’m not waiting you skinny ass if ye don’t wake up.” He started walking towards the woods like there was a secret building Kirishima didn’t know about.

“I’m Kirishima by the way!”

Bakugou turna round to look at him, the message clear ‘I don’t care’ before dissapearing into the shadows of tres and bushes. The last thing Kirishima thought before going back to help cleaning the dishes was the intense red of his eyes.

Chapter Text

Kirishima needed to think of a plan, but he quickly found out that thinking wasn’t easy when he walked all day long next to the hottest guy he’d ever seen. He couldn’t help his very homosexual ass; Bakugou had this spectacular body, all edges and scarred skin, full with barely noticeable marks (tattooos?) and toned muscles.

He spent a lot of time analizing his companion, he could admit that. The blonde had a lot of marks, most of them being long scratches, even more around his shoulders, though he could see past his red cape, that covered all of his back and the nest between his neck and shoulders. He also had orange forearm covers, skin-tight wrapp with a couple of brown leather braces holding everything together as if it wasn’t tight enough. But were the fabric ended just above the inner side of his elbow, he could see faint black lines, not bigger than a hair, decorating his skin with curled shapes he couldn’t decipher.

But Bakugou had gotten used to him staring or so he thought, because at their fifth day together he stopped kicking his feet whenever he catched Kirishima looking in his direction. Now he mostly growled under his breath with annoyance.

Traveling with Bakugou was hell of a challenge. Starting with the fact that he had the most fucked up schedule Kirishima ever knew: Not did he only sleep on the floor (which meant Kirishima did it too, every single night), but he woke up an hour or two before sunrise, not even having damn birds around. He went to sleep a couple hours after sundown, inmediately after finishing whatever animal he hunted and barely cooked for dinner.

The first description he heard of him did not made justice to his true self.

Kirishima was sure Bakugou had been some kind of wild animal in his previous life, mostly because he barely spoke, and because his number one communicative skills were snorting, grumling and growling. Whenever he spoke, at least two cursing words were involved, mostly insults towards Kirishima or his hair.

Did Bakugou know about half-bloods? He hoped not, otherwise the chances of being killed in this little trip were even worse for him.

“It’s my countryside house!” he complained on the sixth day, the sun slowly rising between the tops of the very Green, very big trees. “Why do you lead the way? What if we get lost?”

“Your stinky ass would lead if you weren’t so fucking slow. Fucking tripping with the smallest shitty rocks we find” he answered, not even turning back to look at him. “And if you do your only motherfucking job, we’ll never get lost. Do you even remember the way to your own fucking house?” he muttered something that sounded like ‘would surprise me if you shit hair didn’t’.

Kirishima knew it well. Maybe not so much by walking, since his favorite way of traveling was flying, but he couldn’t particularly do that now, could he? He still made the route enough to be able to guide them both towards it.

But, what was he gonna do once they reached it? There obviously was no ‘dragon problem’ that Bakugou had to solve for him. He probably had to wait the perfect opportunity to steal those necklaces from Bakugous neck. Ambushes weren’t something his life lacked of: Everyone that wasn’t royalty lived with the bare mínimum, which meant people were usually trying to steal someone elses food or money. There was a big possibility that Bakugou and him were gonna be ambushed at least twice, maybe even more with that asshole carrying those dragon tooths hanging aroud his neck, almost like asking for someone to try and steal them in order to sell them.

Bakugou had proven to be at least clever when it came to surviving: while Kirishima tried to catch a squirrel (failing, no less), he hunted a grown deer with a simple dagger. Kirishima saw him slouch over, feet giving such slow steps that the dry leaves didn’t even made sounds. He had knees bent for long enough that Kirishima would have trembled, but Bakugou didn’t even flinch. He lowered himself, arm slightly rising with one dagger in hand.

Kirishima hadn’t know what the heck he was hiding from. Bakugou had flicked his wrist, the dagger getting lost in the woods. Then, he ran faster than the red-head ever thought posible. Alarmed, he followed him; maybe they were being ambushed? What if he’d seen a dragon? Kirishima couldn’t let Bakugou kill yet another one of his kind. So, clumsy in his human feet, he ran after him.

The sight of a grown deer with a dagger deep in his neck had surprised him. The crimson blood kept pouring out of the wound like a waterfall. Bakugou was kneeled at it’s side, hand slowly petting (yeah, petting) the top of his head. He heard mumbling he couldn’t understand, and then Bakugou broke it's neck with one movement of his hands. (He’d been sure a small ‘sorry’ was alongside whatever he told the dying deer.)

He didn’t talk the rest of that afternoon.

Kirishima wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation, to be honest. This guy, known for his poor social skills, untrusting nature and deadly movements just believed him the minute Kirishima told him he needed him to kill a damn dragon. What if he was leading him into a trap? (which, tecnically, he was doing). Did Bakugou not care about the possibilities? Or maybe he thought Kirishima wasn’t that much of a threat. Maybe he really wanted more dragon tooths.

He decided to ask.

“What if…” he started, looking at the blonde. “…this was a trap?”

Bakugou growled in annoyance, lowering the piece of meat he was eating in front of him. “What.”

“What if I was a fraud?” he left his own food down, staring directly into Bakugous eyes. The sun was already hidden, the moon slowly raising above their heads.
“What if this was all a trap I set up to kill you? Or to steal from you?”

Was he being stupid? He wasn’t sure. Bakugou could take his comment as a warning, getting defensive. He could see what Kirishima’s intentions really were. He was leaving his plan uncovered, vulnerable in front of the red-eyed savage, but he had to know. Was Bakugou playing with him? Maybe Kirshima was the one being led to a trap all along, and now that he discovered it, he was gonna get killed. But although traveling by ground wasn’t something he was used to, he was sure this was the right path towards his countryside house.


“You can't fight for shit” Bakugou was looking at him like he was talking about something as simple as the weather. “So if you wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t succeed. If you wanted to steal from me, you could have tried multiple times already.” He lowered his hand, reaching his food again, not concerned at all about the conversation.

He went to have a bite, but before he could finish his action he sighed, looking at Kirishima with an indecipherable glow in his eyes, movement dead in his tracks. “And if you’re leading me into a trap, it’s worth the risk” he said, “I was going in the same direction anyway.”

A pinch of guilt settled in Kirishima’s stomach, but he tried to ignore it by looking at the four necklaces Bakugou had, reminding himself what was really important.


It was two days after, when he got the insult.

Launching himself off the ground, Kirishima jumped forwards. He landed with both his arms tighly wrapped around Bakugous mid-section, his red cape against his chest and the furr from around his neck tingling his forehead.
“What the fuck?!” Bakugou screamed, trying to shake him off. “Get the fuck out you dumbass!”

“Fuck you!” Kirishima replied, apparently affected by the week they had been traveling together. “What did you mean with that ‘you can’t fight for shit’ statement? I’m a great fighter, thank you very much! The manliest of men!”

Jerking up, Bakugou threw him to the floor, adjusting his cape. “ ‘Great fighter’? You wouldn’t last a minute going against me in a good day! The only reason your lanky ass is still alive is because of me. Now fucking get up, there’s still a long road ahead.”

Not giving up, Kirishima stood up, dirt in his fingernails. Shaking the red hair from his face, he pushed Bakugou and took the leather bag from his hand, just to piss him off.

The growl he got meant he was reaching his goal.

“Do you have a fucking death wish?” he murmured between his teeth.

“What?” Kirishima grinned, throwing the bags to the side. “Scared to get beaten?”

“Your fuckin poor life choices are gonna get you killed, dammit” Bakugou hissed, clearly angry.

“Chicken much?” maybe he did have a death wish. “You’re nothing but words, Bakugou. If you’re such a good fighter…” he clenched his fists and pumped them together. “… then bring it.”

With an evil snarl, Bakugou reached him in record time, taking his arms in a rock-like grip and twisted them, pushing them towards the floor. If he didn´t let himself be thrown down, his arms would be broken in a second. On his knees, Kirishima kicked Bakugous leg with his own, making the other trip and release his arms.

But the relief didn’t last long: A hand flew to his face, blocking his view, and then he was being pinned down. Bakugou on top of him, one leg folded over Kirishima’s both legs, the other bendet in a ninety degree angle. The sole of his foot pinning down the red-heads left wrist to the ground, while his right one was trapped by Bakugou’s left hand, his right pressing Kirishima’s face hard against the dirt.

He was completely inmobilized.

“I win” Bakugou said. Then, he got up, releasing Kirishima and started walking like nothing ever happened. “Come on, Shitty Hair.”

Chapter Text

The thing was that Kirishima didn’t need to know how to fight with his human body, because whenever he felt threatened, he could turn into a five meter red dragon that could burn cities to the ground only with a breath, so having motor skills when he was barely 1,7 meters tall was of no use to him. Or that’s what he told himself numerous times every time after Bakugou kicked his ass every day while training.

Ever since their first fight, Kirishima had had throw himself towards Bakugou, until it stopped being a surprise attack and became more like a training session they had every day before sundown. With a whole week of meeting the dirt with his face, the red-head had grown tired of losing, but he was also very determined to win at least once.

They roots of the trees had grown thicker along the way, making him trip constantly, but he could tell he was getting better with time. Sometimes he had flashes of clarity when he could see Bakugou’s fist seconds before it hit his face, giving him time to dodge it or deflect it. It wasn’t enough to win him over, but the improvement was better than nothing.

Suddenly, fighting wasn’t enough; he wanted to be agile too, and fast and strong. He had seen Bakugpus knife-playing a lot of times while waiting for their food to cook above the fire, and he suddenly thought where could he learn that. Why was Bakugou so good at everything? He could fight and hunt and run and hide and track with no problem, almost like it was a second nature. How long had Bakugou been in the woods?

There were little hints that the answer was: a lot. It was in his poor social skills, the way he answered with grunts, or the way his lips twitched everytime he felt threatened or uncomfortable, like a dog showing off his teeth. Whenever he was tense, his fingers would become rigid, but with palms wide open, like he had imaginary claws that needed space to make damage. He fought wildly, like every match was a real life-or-death situation, but yet his swifts were soft and precise and deadly. He could recognize weak points in any living being and knew every plant and its use in cooking or healing, as he could track down and had an unpleasant certainty what animal they were chasing. He was perfectly made for a wild life deep in the tree-crowded woods, that was undeniable for everyone, and the statement sent some kind of weird shiver down his dragon side. Kirishima could easily recognize the animal-like behaviour because he himself acted that way sometimes.

After his fathers passing, he travelled alone for months. He had felt as he was the only halfbreed ever born on earth, and now the only person that knew and accepted him was gone. Living by himself was something he never wanted to experience again. He was so thankful for Mina and her little village.

Living as a dragon for so long, he had forgotten how it was like to be human and how to act like a normal human around other humans.

The claws!” Mina would call out to him sometimes, whenever he felt stressed or angry. “Put ‘em away!”

He decided never to live so long by himself again. He would alwas go back to mina and her sweet family and friends, laughing and working in the day and flying over night.

But then, looking at Bakugou tore the bunny’s foot meat with the side of his teeth like a savage, he wondered how long had the blonde spent away from human contact only to hunt dragons.

“You know, there’s a village nearby” he said, pocking at his own piece of meat. He was crosslegged in front of the fire Bakugou started, and the sun was going to set.

The blond didn’t react. He sighed.

“We could, like, spend the night there.” He finished.

Bakugou kept of ripping the meat off the bone, barely answering a bored, “We’re not gonna”.

“Why not?” he whined, making a small pout. “The night’s cold and….”

“We have fire.”

“…and it’ll die down, eventually! I’ll be cold in the middle of the night, while we could be all warm in some cab at the village and sleep in actual beds…”

“Floor’s all we need.”

“…and we could meet people and make some friends or something! I don’t know about you man, but I’m kinda sick of only seeing your angry face all the time.” He finished, ignoring Bakugou’s scowl.

“I’m not wasting money on some damn brothel just because you’re a fucking weakling. We’re not here to make friends, this is my fucking job.” He disposed the now bare bunny bone throwing it to the ground, while he uncosciously brushed his arms wrapped in those leather protectors.

The question had been in his mind for long, and maybe a full belly and a warm fire was all he needed to make Bakugou open up. He took a chance.

“Have you ever just… considered to settle down? We’ve passed some nice villages. You ever thought of working on something else and getting a house…?”

“And then what?” Bakugou interrumpted him, but his tone wasn’t on edge. He sounded curious, and ever so slightly annoyed.

“What?” he said, surprised at not being shut down.

“Getting a house and then fucking what?” Bakugou replied. “Marrying a stranger, buying a crappy house and working my ass to fullfil other peoples needs? That your dream life?”

There was something in the way he answered, an underlying truth he seemed to be telling him, but Kirishima wasn’t sure. The thought of Bakugou marrying someone made him weirdly uncomfortable­-maybe because he couldn’t picture him in a wedding gown, kissing someone gently.

“I mean? It’s the right thing to do…? Have you though?” he tried to answer, not really sure of what the blonde was expecting from him.

“Settling down in any place means contributing to a kingdoms economy. Is that what you think a dream life is, idiot? To work for others pollution and greed-infused wish for jewelry? To give a tenth of your capital every fortnight to a king whose only life purpose is to take advantage of his people’s work to bath in gold and riches? To supplement others proceeds with your own work only to be wasted in wine and whores? To bend the knee to some random bloodline-chosen-by king who pays for others to fight his battles for him, only to go back to get drunk and get laid while you and everyone else fight for a piece of bread?” He sighed, with an expression mixed with anger, tiredness and something else. “That’s a fucking terrible dream to have, Shitty Hair.”

So, he hated kingdoms too. And considered kings and people greedy in general, which would explain his lack of personal objects despite his handbag and weapons, and the fact that he slept only on the floor of the woods and that he was basiclly an amish.

Kirishima could picture it: Bakugou living on tree tops or caves, watching the rise and fall of the wáter waves by the ocean and coexisting with other animals peacefully.

But then the picture was ruined by those flashy dragon tooths hanging around his neck.

What were those tooths, if not proof that he was just like everyone else he seemed to despise? Wearing expensive jewelry to prove his superiority to anyone else, slaying innocent creatures for money?

“That means that if there were a kingdom with a decent king, you’d settle down there.”

There was a negative grimace in his face, and then it dissapeared into his usual angry scowl. “There is not one fucking decent king in all fucking earth, fuckers should drop dead, filthy bastards. I can assure you that.”

“But your parents must be living somewhere, how come you don’t live with them?” then, a more exciting question bubbled up. “What are they like? Are they like you? Tell me it’s a no please.”

Bakugou growled, annoyed. “Ye have to know everything, don’t ye’? Fucking noisy bitch.” He stood up, and only then could Kirishima notice the sun had set long ago. Bakugous figure iluminated by the fire moved towards the trunck of a tree. “Question time’s over. Go to fucking sleep or die trying”.

With that, Kirishima’s effort for trying to know more about the dragon-slayer died. He got more than what he thought he would get, but maybe he was noisy, just enough to long for knowledge about his companion’s life.

Not that he cared. He was only there to steal from him.

He just had to wait for the right moment.






He regretted their talk the next day, when Bakugou was even more silent than before.

But the fire he fell asleep to was still alive when he woke up, which meant that the firewood was magical of that bakugou fed it during the night. Which explained the dark shadows under his eyes, telling a story of a sleepless night.

  “The night’s cold and….”

  “We have fire.”

  “…and it’ll die down, eventually! I’ll be cold in the middle of the night..”

His heart squeezed at the memory.

The silence didn’t stop them from their training, as Bakugou dropped the bag and haunched slightly.

“Give it, Shitty Hair.”

He leaped, aiming to Bakugou’s torso, but changed directions a second later, grabbing his arm and twisting it. He felt a kick to his leg and fuck did it hurt.

Bakugou’s arm restrained his lower half while he tried to force him to the ground, but Kirishima bit him, not really playing clean.

“The fuck!” Bakugou hissed, a surprised look on his face. Kirishima giggled, connecting a punch to the side of his head. Bakugou dodged it, but got hit by Kirishimas left fist on his abdomen, taking a couple of steps back.

There was a hand in his hair and suddenly he was being stamped against a tree. His teeth rattled in his mouth, but he kept himself from wincing. He was quickly on the ground, and Bakugou was about to finaly pin him down completly.

Bakugou suddenly raised his head up to the sky, body rigid and eyes wide open, no longer fixated on Kirishima.

“What?” he coughed, voice hoarse from the beating.

But Bakugou didn’t reply, still frozen in his place. He shushed Kirishima, as he evened out his frantic breathing, like they were being watched.

“Don’t fucking move” he said, voice low.

And, without a warning, he ran off into the woods.

Kirishima sat there, body warm and head sore from the beating, his heart pounding furiously inside his chest.

A minute after, the smell was catched by his sensitive nose. A soft scent of ashes and burnt wood and dirt. It was very light, but he knew it too well to know it meat no good, specially if Bakugou went after it.

He walked in circles, quiet and attentive for any roaring sound. If there was a dragon and Bakugou was fighting it, he would hear it.

But then at was already afternoon and Bakugou was still not back, which threw Kirishima into a scared spiral of thoughts. He failed at hunting something to eat, too worried to put an actual effort into it.

Then the sun was lowering in between the tree tops, and Kirishima was ready to take the hand bag and look for Bakugou himself, but he thought better of it. What if Bakugou came back and he wasn’t there? What if he got lost? What if he was hurt and came to find no one just because Kirishima was too scared to wait for him?

He suddenly felt sick, worrying over a dragon slayer insted of worrying over the dragon that was gonna get killed by him. Bakugou was the murderer here. He was the greedy being. Goddamnit, Kirishima was only there to steal from the guy. Even if he trained with him and talked to him, he knew his main goal. He owed it to his fellow dragons.

The wind of the night felt much more cold when he was by himself. He made a fire with his breath, not having enery to waste in kicking rocks.

It was dark and the dragon scent had left a long time ago when a shadow moved in the bushes. He jumped to his feet, grabbing hardly at the only knife Bakugou didn’t have on him.

The shadow was short and smelled like herbs and something tricky Kirishima couldn’t recognize, so he threw the knife, twisting his wrist as he saw Bakugou do it numerous times.

The object flew over the bushes and got lost behind the shadow. Fuck.

“That’s some shitty aiming, Shitty Hair.”

Every muscle in his pathetic human body relaxed, limp against his skin at the hoarse voice he knew too well. His mouth tugged at it’s corners when Bakugous messy spiky hair filled his vision.

Fucker” he breathed, the annoying ball of fear dissapearing at his throat. He was so fucking releaved. “Where the fuck were you!”

Bakugou stepped closer to the fire pit, haunched slghtly. He still had his usual mocking expression, but it was decorated by an easy grin.

“Just an ambush, don’t whine ‘bout it” he said. He looked rather pale, still haunched, like he could support himself quite enough. Kirishima felt outraged.

“What do you mean ‘don’t whine about it’?!” he screamed, feeling deeply insulted. He fought the need to show his dragon tooths in anger. “You fucking left like a demon was calling you! Didn’t even come back! Not manly at a-!”

He stopped screaming; Bakugou was grunting slightly and clenching his fists, looking…

“Are you hurt?” he asked, worry coming back instantly. “Did they get to you? Is there…?”

“M’fine” the other answered lowly, growling. He didn’t care. Kirishima reached for him, holding his face with his hands, personal space be damned.

“You’re pale. What happened?” Bakugou smelled weird, that tricky scent lingering on his pale skin. But the one scent his sensitive nose could recognize was the blood.

The blonde didn’t fight Kirishimas hold on his face. The red-haired turned his face, examinating it, when he found it.

The blood was coming from Bakugous ears, already dry on the sides of his face, staining the strands of ashen-blonde hair.

“What…?” Had they hurt his ears? He’d never seen an ambush were the focus was hurting someones ears. It didn’t make sense. And he was still smelling like that tricky scent that sat his dragon side off.

What was it. What was it. What was it. What was it. Wha-

“I’m fine” Bakugou insisted, clearly weakened to brush him off harshly, rubbing and the dried blood and cleaning it. He shaked his head off from Kirishimas hands and walked away from him, pretending to be fine.

He didn’t smell fine, but, how could he tell him that? ‘I know you’re not fine, because my dragon-senses can tell your overall pheromones and the physical stench you’re soaked off.

“You don’t look like it” Kirishima insisted.

“I’ve been the whole afternoon in a fucking ambush, pardon me if I’m fucking tired” Bakugou spat, this time definitly angry and annoyed. “Everything’s fine, stop fucking mopping bout it. You’ll see in the morning.”

But he was pale as the dead, legs trembling under him before he slumped on the floor. The veins of his face seemed painted dark black, like petroleum was running through his veins instead of actual blood. He reeked of pain and sickness even though there were no visible injuries in his body and no sickness could possibly hit him like that in just a couple hours: Kirishima couldn’t understand what was wrong.

He only fell asleep when he visually examinated Bakugou’s sleeping form entirely, making sure there was no injuries or blood, despite still smelling death around the guy.


And he woke up, Bakugou looked and smelled like nothing happened.

Chapter Text

watch the art I made 4 this here

For a grown man whose routine consisted of hunting, killing and sleeping, Bakugou always smelled kinda nice.

Not that Kirishima spent too much time smelling him.

But as a damn shape-shifter, he had some advanced sense of smell, dragon form or not. He could smell the trail of shit from other animals, the blood that followed anywhere man lived (the old-blood scent that came from women at a certain time, awkward moments), the smell flowers and poison. There weren’t many rivers, and wells were a luxury in some villages, so the smell of sweat and dirty armpit was something his nose had gotten used to while living amongst humans; like a wound, it still affected him, (not to say disgusted him), but with time it was forgotten.

He didn’t realise that Bakugou never smelled like common humans until the next day.

The blonde did not liked to be challenged, or to not to be right and Kirishima knew that very well, but there was no way in Hell that Bakugou, after looking half-dead, would be completly fine the next day like he assured him last night.

He was sure Bakugou had superpowers.

For he first time in forever, Bakugou didn´t wake him up two hours before sunrise; he did when the sun was just a little bit above them, but when he did, he looked radiant.

His ashen hair was fully-spiked again, like it was nothing but a plant that needed watering in order to shine again: his scarred skin had all of the color that such a naturally pale skin could have, and his eyes were focused and dashing again.

Which meant, his rude attitude was fully back too.

“C´mon lazy ass” he said, kicking his shin lightly. “Time to move the fuck up.”

Only Bakugou could be on the edge of death and recover in only one night. Maybe he was so stubborn, he compelled his body to heal faster. Was that even possible? He couldn’t even make his body fully wake up in the morning.

But then he did could transform into a five meter dragon, so that’s a win.

“Sleeping Beauty’s having a good day I see” he joked, gaining another kick in the shin, not so lightly this time. “Didn’t seemed that good last night though.”

“Told ye I was just fucking tired, and how could I not?” Bakugou said, the leather bag hanging from his shoulder. “It’s like I’m travelling with a buff two-year-old.”

He ignored the last part of that rude sentence. “Buff, eh?” He jumped to his feet, stretching his limbs. God he missed being a dragon. “Guess trainning’s been paying off.”

“Keep on dreaming, loser.” Bakugou said. “It’ll pay off the day you beat me. You fucking scumbag won´t be able to land a hit on me today, I bet.”

He was sneering mockingly, but Kirishima didn´t really cared about that. He wasn´t going to fight Bakugou, no matter how undeniably healthy and capable he looked.

“You know? I think I’ll skip it today” he said. The grin from Bakugou’s face fell, only to be replaced with an angry stare.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I’m just-“ He was what? What was his excuse? From travelling with the blonde, he had learned that every single act that resembled compassion, humility or just good-will was seen as pity by him. Every single time he had tried to be nice to Bakugou, he had been pushed aside as double-faced or egocentric. Worrying about him  was seen by Bakugou as if he thought of him as weak, and damn that guy hated being thought of as weak. He couldn’t just say he was worried for his well-being, that he didn´t want to train with him out of fear of wearing him out after a hard day, but Kirishima (even for someone whose real identity was a lie to everyone but himself) was a terrible liar, and Bakugou had the ultimate best bullshit detector in the whole world.

“Ye think I can´t fucking take you?” apparently, Baugou knew him as much as Kirishima knew him. He underestimated his abilities to read people.

“N-no! No way, man! How could I?” he started rambling. “You could, yeah, definitly. You could wipe my ass from existence in a sec, no doubt bout that! With such manly, strong arms, I just, I just…”

Bakugou tilted an eyebrow, his ears getting slightly red. The dried blood was probably tincting them.

“I’m sore!” he finally decided. He laughed, fingers scratching the back of his neck, nervous. “Yeah, I’m sore. But, you know, I would be fine if only you had listened to me and had gone to that village close by, slept in normal, comfortable beds instead of hard ground…”

“Save your complains” Bakugou said. He dropped the bag, bending his knees slightly. Oh no. “I know you’re lying.”

And just like that, he crashed against him. Out of pure instinct, Kirishima dodged him. A feet stuck his own, but the trick was far too old to work on him anymore, so he threw his weight on Bakugou’s side, stumbling, but not falling. He took him by the leather arm bracers, twisting Bakugous arms.

But he hadn’t managed to double them when a very firm punch hit him in his forehead, the pain flashing through his skull.

He was pinned down in seconds, head pounding.

Bakugou headbutted him.

“Ow” he croaked, feeling pressure in his wrists where Bakugou held him still. He also had a red patch in his forehead, but his red eyes were focused completly. “So, those are the things you’re sensitive about?”

He hadn’t paid much attention to them. Despite knowing that they were hiding tattoos under them, the leather arm braces looked as something Bakugou would use out of pure sense of fashion.

But at this point it was obvious he didn’t like anyone to touch them.

And there was the fact that Bakugou had zero sense of fashion. The man lived like a rabid animal. He didn´t even own a shirt. Just the pants, those arm bracers and that very flashy, weirdly thick blood-red cape with fur on top. The cape had metal shoulder bracers underneath, but they were a whole pack. He also had that ragged bag, and the belt for his sword and knives.

Did he even had underpants? Underwear? Or was that too civilized for him?

Bakugou’s grip loosened, and he let his head hang from his position, aparently tired.

“Fuck off, asshole” he breathed.

His ashen hair tickled on Kirishimas face, and that’s when it hit him.

The smell.

It was sweat. Not the stincky, weeks-old sweat scent that every person had, but a very light smell of it. Like he had been clean until now.

But he hadn´t seen Bakugou shower last night. (Not that he wanted to). Actually, now that he remembered it, he hadn’t smelled sweat in Bakugou at all up until now.

The man above him stood up, offering his hand to him. “C’mon, we still have a long day ahead”

He took his hand and got the ragged bag up his shoulder, starting to walk behind Bakugou. Now that he was trying to focus, every little scent came at him. The dry dirt from the ground, different types of animal pee, the pieces of meat he hunted yesterday but didn´t eat out of worry. What was left of the dried blood at the sides of Bakugou’s neck. His own smell of dirt and faded smoke from his nostrils.

And there it was.

It was no lie that every living animal had a scent. But having super senses, Kirishima had grown used to each one of them, so everything ended up smelling kinda the same. It was only when he focused that he could discern each one.

And now he coul recognice Bakugou’s natural smell.

It was sweet, which was a whole joke of the universe. First, because no one smelled sweet. The human body is mostly made out of salts and compounds that were either rotten, raw or satl scented. But the man in front of him smelled sweet. Like flowers or poison. Like baked goods or confectionery. Like fruits. Like damned caramel. Or burnt sugar. The saltiest, most agressive person Kirishima had ever known smelled sweet.

And then, like fire. Or ashes. Or burning fuel. Like smoke.

But he was (no matter how the thought started to hurt now) a dragon slayer. The dots started connecting. The arm braces were probably for taiming dragons, not to get hurt by the claws. The sweet smell was probably from living in the woods, and the burnt smell from either working as a dragon sayer, or for spending too much time with Kirishima.

He was glad Bakugou didn´t have a nose as good as his, otherwise he would have caught him in a matter of minutes. As a dragon shape-shifter, Kirishima’s scent was mostly like rocks and smoke, the scent that came from every dragon.

That had been one of the reasons why he had known Ashido was a half-breed like him. He lived with his own scent; smelling it on someone else was a weird indicator. Why would the daughter of a barman smell like smoke and rocks constantly?

He started this journey with a simple goal, but now part of him was doubting.

Kirishima had been so alone. And although Ashido was a good friend, he didn’t really connect with her. They weren’t like each other, but weren’t opposites either. The only thing they had in common was that they both were dragon half-breeds, but tht was it. Neither of them knew much about the dragon world. And while Mina wanted to have a normal life as a human, Kirishima wanted more.

Maybe it was the greedy side of him, the one that came to light every time he looked at something he liked and longed for it so hard he just had to get it, no matter the cost. No matter how much he had to work to get enough money to buy it, sometimes even considering stealing as a choice. Once he wanted something, nothing was gonna stop him from getting it.

And before he had wanted a risqué life. Out of the ordinary. Out of the normal, boring human routine.

And now, he wanted this life. The one he had right now. Walking and fighting in the forest, hunting and laughing at Bakugou’s shit attitude. Hearing him curse, even if the cruel tone to it was no longer there.

He wanted to stay. The greedy, dragon part of him wanted too.

But, for the first time, that was something he couldn’t have.

Because he wanted to live with a dragon slayer. And Kirishima was a dragon.

Guess life is really not fair.





“You stay here, I’ll come back.”

They were in a very small clearing, the sound of the river not too far from them. The sun was still up, but it’s rays were more orange than they were before. The light got filtered from between the long bodies of the tall trees, small breezes of air ruffling Kirishima’s hair.

Ever since yesterday, he had been trying to catch Bakugou’s smell. It was pretty nice. And it still made him curious. Would he start to smell so sweetly after a couple of months living in the woods?

He hadn’t been able to recognize the other tricky smell Bakugou had stunk of the day he was ambushed. He never had smelled it before, and maybe he was a noisy bitch, as Bakugou called him.

Remembering that day, he inmediatly jumped to his feet, chin sticking out. “Where are you going?” he asked, already grabbing their things.

“Nonye” Kirishima frowned.


“Non’f ye bussines” he growled, turning his back. Kirishima caught up to him.

“C’mon man, don’t be an ass!” he said. “Last time you left me, you didn’t come back for hours!”.

“What, did you miss me that much?” he raised one eyebrown. He had been doing that an awful lot lately.

“We’re a team! You can’t just abandon your team. That’s not manly.” He said, already walking next to him, permission or not.

“Well, I’m going to shower in the river. Is it manly to shower with your ‘team’?”

He blushed. He shouldn’t.

Was Bakugou blushing too? It couldn’t be. Because the blonde fucker was looking at him with a smirk. Bastard was making fun of him.

“It’s not like you have anything that I don’t!” he croaked, feeling his face get warmer. He tried not to get smoke out from his nostrils.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

The thought made him cringe. And he must had had made a face, because then Bakugou was.


Open mouth, head rolled to his side, actual, noisy laughter right from his chest up his throat. Every trace of anger or annoyance completly gone.

“Such a fucking idiot, oh God” he breathed, wiping his eyes, easy smile on his pale lips.

If being embarrased made Bakugou laugh like that, then he wouldn’t mind doing it again.

“Don’t use God’s name to insult me” he said, even redder. Bakugou just mocked him.

“I bet she’s pleased to have her name used to insult you, you dumb ass.” They came to a stop in front of the river water. It wasn’t too high, but enough to splash around their knees. The current was somehow soft, and the yellowish rays of sunshine warmed them enough to dry them off before sunset.

Bakugou got rid of his belt and weapons, his cape still on his shoulders. And if Kirishima was looking at him undo his pants on the corner of the eye in a non-unnoticed way, he didn’t say anything. Luckily (or not) for him, he did have underpants, four fingers above the knee in a brown baggy cloth.

Seeing that Bakugou was not going in fully naked, Kirishima stopped staring to undress too. Getting rid of his jean jacket and dark pants, standing only in his own greyish underpants.

Bakugou was already in the water, facing him. Although the red cape was no longer in his shoulders, he still had the arms bracers. His back was hidden, leaving Kirishima an open view of his muscle ripped torso. Abs tensing everytime he bent down to splash more water on himself.

There was a certain stiffness in his moves Kirishima was not used to. Bakugou was fluid like poison and fast as lightning. He fought like no one Kirishima ever knew, and acted the same way. Broad shoulders back, head up with a wicked grin and fire of pure aggressivity in his red eyes.

But now, he was closed in himself. Body slow and careful, shoulders hunched.

He didn´t pay attention, starting to splash water on himself.

It was cold, because river water always was. But the sun was still up, and his body was sore, so it didn’t bother him that much. Besides, his corporal temperature was naturally a couple degrees higher than the rest.  

He was rubbing his knees, trying hard to not stare at Bakugou like a creep, (aka, avoiding him obviously) when a small orange flash sped up in between his feet.


His first instinct was to get his hands underwater, trying to catch the orange bastard. But suddenly, every single fish he saw before was out of sight.

He saw them next to Bakugou. He leaped forwards.

“Watch it, dumbass!” the blonde said, jumping when Kirishima threw himself against him, crunched, hitting the water dorkyly.

“I’ll catch a fish!” he said, punching the water repeteadly.

“You’ll scare the fish, you mean!” Bakugou pushed him aside, calling his attention. Kirishima perked up, watching the fish from the corner of his eye. “If you plan on surviving for what’s left of this trip, then we gotta work on your aim. And hunting skills.”

“I do know how to catch a fish!” He did. Usually, he would put his fully open snout underwater for a while, and when he closed it, there was five or more fish inside.

In his dragon form, of course.

“Sure thing” Bakugou mocked him. “If you want to do it, you gotta be calm, quiet and fast. Not splashing around like a dog.”

“Well if it’s so easy, why don´t you do it, eh?” Dragons were easily insulted. But none of Bakugou’s usual insults were directed towards his dragon side, but to his human one. Being compared to a dog was outrageous. He was a five meter tall, bloodthirsty beast, damnit, not a damn puppy.

“Watch and learn”.

He took a couple of steps back, slowly. He went completly still, knees slightly bent and hands hovering over the water. Just like when they were hunting that deer, Bakugou was tensend like a spring. His whole body an arrow ready to be let free.

And then his hand flashed in and out of the water, in what took a blink of an eye. His two hands got tight around a small moving form; a fish.

“That was so manly!” he said. He instantly reached for the fish, grabbing it from Bakugous hand. But the slippy bastard was incredibly strong. It got from between his finger into the water again.

Catching fish was way more easy as a fully grown dragon.

He spooned around Bakugou, trying to see where it went, and then back around. They both were seeking for more fish, when a black shadow crossed his eyes. Looking up, he was facing directly at Bakugous uncovered back.

It was the first time Bakugou wasn´t wearing the cape. And his moves had been stiff and closed, always facing him.

Kirishima should have realized.

He knew the guy had tattoos. Hair-thin lines of dark ink decorated the inside of his elbow, there were the arm bracers couldn’t cover. But this was a whole new level of tattoos.

The lines were thicker. And jet black, but he couldn’t make out what it was supposed to be. He could see spikes and angles, but whatever the drawing was, it had been ruined by the scars.

Scar tissue over scar tissue, the drawing had reddish gashes, like a hawk had tried to erase the ink from his pale skin with its claws, but it was so thick that it looked like the wound had been reopened a countless amount of times, over and over until the skin cells were on top of each other, making an uneven surface.

Kirishima had seen scars. Ugly ones. And this was one of them.

It wasn’t an accidental scar, nor one that you could get from a regular spar with someone. It was done on purpose and with dedication.


He felt his throat seize up, all happiness from the fish-chase and the horny jokes gone. At some point in life, someone had wounded Bakugou repeteadly in the same spot, in such a vicious way that whatever that tattoo used to be, it was now indecipherable.

The gashes were big and thick, seeming like claw marks. No hawk could have possibly done it, the marks too big to be from such a small animal.

He looked at his hands, trying to remember his own claws. And the, he reached out to the scarred skin.

It was indeed uneven, but as soft ass skin was nonetheless. It felt warm against his finger tips.

There was a hand grasping at his raised wrist. And the sight of scars was gone, insted, Bakugou was looking at him furiously.


He had no words. Bakugou was holding his hand with a lot of pressure, and the look in his eyes was angry, but tinted with something Kirishima had never seen in him before.

“What was that?” he tried, voice full of worry. Bakugou stood there.

He looked pained. Or miserable.

And angry. So angry.

He let go of his wrists, eyebrows not-knitted together, in the most seriously pissed way he could stare at someone. His face was blank, but his mouth was a thin line, lips pressed together and a glare like death.

“We’re done here”.

Kirishima had his lips slightly open, still in shock. Bakugou threw his hands down, and walked out of the water, not even putting his black pants on before throwing his cape over his shoulders aggressively and dissapearing in the woods.

Chapter Text

Kirishima didn’t try to discover the story behind Bakugou’s massive scar. But he did stay awake longer than usual, curled up in his spot on the ground while Bakugou stood silent against a tree trunk, red cape jealously pressed around him, like he was trying to hide under it.

They were silent, but Kirishima knew Bakugou wasn’t sleeping yet. His dragon hearing allowed him to know that the blonds’ heart was still bumping too fast to fall into slumber. His own heart leaping inside his chest at the thousands of possible theories.

The tattoo must have meant something to him. Something important, which was surprising, since Bakugou seemed like the type of guy that didn’t care about anything. And then it was the fact that something definitely not human had ripped his skin until the tattoo was no more than indecipherable inches of dark ink. Something with claws.

He didn’t want to think about it being true, but it was his only option.

The teeth would make sense. If what Bakugou dislikes greed just as much as Kirishima does, than the only other reason why he wears those necklaces were for some kind of sick revenge. He maybe felt it fair to use such important parts of a dragon as fashion items, like an eye-for-an-eye or something. It would also explain his hatred towards dragons, and why he hunted them.

He didn’t want someone else getting the same scar he had.

But the reason why a dragon would do it without provocation was beyond Kirishima. Because it had to be without provocation; Bakugou was clever enough to know that if he messed with animals he was bound to get bitten. There was no way Bakugou had provoked a dragon and then gotten all pissed about the beast scratching him back. Once, during their trip, Kirishima tried to pet a small bunny only to get bitten and Bakugou, instead of hunting the bunny, mocked Kirishima for not seeing it coming.

But dragons did not attack out of the blue.

Maybe he was over-analysing everything. It wasn’t his business to know everything about Bakugou; damn, he was there to steal from him, whatever bonding he managed to get with the blonde would be forgotten the moment he steals his very precious necklaces. He shouldn’t stick his nose where he wasn’t called.

Yet he couldn’t help being curious. Sue him.

He finally fell asleep while trying to think about any other way to get those teeth from Bakugou without leaving his side.

He couldn’t come up with anything.





“If you don’t wake up now, I’ll eat this for you. Rise and motherfucking shine.”

Bakugou’s voice slowly stopped being something annoying to hear while waking up, Kirishima realized. And even more when he noted Bakugou was talking to him, not angrily ignoring his mere existence.

He blinked, his nose catching up first: the smell of fruit, citric and leaf. After clearing his vision, he saw a peeled orange with purple little things he assumed were more fruits. As a dragon, he never ate them, but as a human, the little fuckers were delicious.

Despite sleeping in the dirt of the small clearing they found yesterday, Kirishima felt clean thanks to their small bath in the river. He was sure Bakugou’s hair looked more yellowish then ashen too. And it was more spiked and fluffy.

Bakugou himself was acting normal, which was unexpected. After yesterday’s disaster, Kirishima thought the blonde would close himself inside his bad-boy shell, building up his guard again, their relationship taking a couple of steps back until they were like complete strangers again, but the blonde seemed to act like nothing happened.

Like Kirishima didn’t go to straight up touch his probably most intimate scar while he wasn’t noticing and even asked about it later. Damn, he thought Bakugou was the one with moral issues.

Still, he ate the fruits in silence while his partner eyed him with boredom.

“Speed up, dipshit. Or else I’ll go and leave you here to die.”

But he was still in his spot, ragged bag in his shoulder while waiting Kirishima to finish his breakfast. Kirishima smiled as the sunlight peeked through the trees, the birds chirping happily at the beginning of a brand new day.

“Have you ever thought that I may be able to survive without you?” he asked, grinning. His time with Bakugou had turned him more defiant and outspoken. He only hoped not to pick the habit of swearing.

“Not with that aiming.” Bakugou sneered back. Ouch. “Therefore, lack of it.”

“My aiming is fine!” he cried.

“The bunny who bit you doesn’t think the same.”

“I wasn’t trying to hunt him, I wanted to pet him.” He corrected, but Bakugou grinned even more.

“Yet you went for his neck. Not even passively aiming is good for you.” Looking back to see Kirishima had eaten the fruit, he started walking towards the woods once more.

“How do you think I survived all of this years.” He said, only a little offended. He was a dragon, not a toddler.

“I don’t fucking know. You said you lived with your Dad, right? The poor old man probably maintained you, bloodthirsty leech.”

Kirishima felt his eyebrows seize up and his mouth open slightly; how did Bakugou remember that? He always thought the blonde wasn’t listening whenever he ranted about anything, yet here he was, talking about his dad, who did maintain him most of his life. A pang of affection struck him for only a millisecond.

“Yeah, Pop’s a great man. Took care of me by himself! He’s so manly. Even manlier than you! I never understood how he could take care of just everything and keep me alive too. A farm is not easy job and yet he managed to get everything right!

“He no longer does it?” Bakugou interrupted.


“Ye talk ‘bout him like he stopped. Why’s that?”

Mental note: Bakugou pays more attention than he lets on. Proceed carefully.

“Nothing! It’s just that-he got help. A neighbour? Yeah. You know-I left. To find you, of course, for the dragon! Damn dragon. I had to leave to find you so he found a girl to help him around. He’s old, so yeah, he stopped doing it by himself!”

Bakugou stopped in his tracks, Kirishima bumped into his back, too nervous about lying to realize it. The blonde turned around and looked at him.

It went on for a few seconds; Bakugou was just looking at him suspiciously, his red eyes boring into Kirishima’s, looking for something. Bakugou had an amazing bullshit detector, and it was probably ticking off at that moment. But the lie was hard and bitter in his tongue: talking about his Dad like he was alive when the hurtful truth was that he wasn’t. He died. He would never come back to give him advice in life. To just pet him like a dog just because he could transform into a dragon. To lecture him for accidentally torching the hay. To hug him and tell him he loved him.

Bakugou frowned at him, his mouth pulled into a thin, tense line before turning back around and resume his walking.

“Look, I’m not gonna be a noisy bitch and ask ‘bout it,” he said, voice lower and serious. “so you don’t have to talk ‘bout it if ye don’t want to.”



He was speechless. He probably looked pained while talking, which would be suspicious to anyone, at least. Yet Bakugou was trying to give him privacy.

Maybe he wasn’t that socially crippled.

He felt the sides of his lips tug in a soft smile, even if no one was watching. His heart was beating.

Too fast. Too fast. Too fast.

“What about you parents?” yet he couldn’t stand the silence. “Are you a bloodthirsty leech too?”

“If I’m not gonna be a noisy bitch, then neither are you.” Was the response he got. It was nice while it lasted.

“Well if you’re not gonna tell me about them, then at least can you tell me where we’re going? Hopefully a village. To properly rest.”

“Hunting dragons is my motherfuking job. I won’t lose money or time just because your lazy ass is uncomfortable. You become a burden and you’re out.”

“C’mon dude! Aren’t you tired of sleeping in the dirt? Only seeing each other? No other human whatsoever?”

“Welcome to my life. Get fucking use to it.”

The birds chirped happily from their trees as they walked in the forest. The trees slowly became shorter and thinner, the grass growing green and strong. They had more space to walk, and when training came, Kirishima did not only find himself not losing as quickly, but his head suffered fewer injuries than usual, which was a good thing.

They had a launch that consisted in squirrels, because rabbits were slowly disappearing thanks to their slow pace. Yet Bakugou still had him rise up and practise his knife-throwing aim with a target carved into a slightly bigger three trunk.

He missed in all of his tries, sucking so much that even though Bakugou knew he was bad at it, his face showed amazement at how much talent he lacked at just throwing a knife.

The technique was hard, okay? Raising his arm in a horizontal arc behind him and then push it forwards in one single move. He managed to cut himself too many times to his liking.

“How do you even do that?” he had inquired after seeing Bakugou get the knife inches deep in the middle of the wood target effortlessly. “Doesn’t the blade hurt? I’ve been close to losing my hand with just a few tries!”

And because he had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, he took Bakugou’s palms to examine them under the peeking sunlight of the afternoon, his thumbs tracing from his inner wrist to the slits of his palms.

He discovered that the pale palms were deeply calloused. The skin had a yellow-ish tint, and it was thick and hard like it was been holding cactuses his whole life. There were a couple of small, healing blisters in the middle section of his fingers, but the rest of the palm was so strong the skin was probably twice as thick as a normal skin layer would be. Kirishima wondered if the small cuts caused by mishandling the blade could even bleed through so much skin.

Probably not.

His own skin was hard as a rock whenever he turned into a dragon, which made Kirishima’s human form harder than usual humans, but his hands weren’t anywhere near as hard and strong as Bakugous.

“This is crazy!” he couldn’t help but yell. “What kind of things do you use your hands for?”

He regretted it the moment he said it, feeling a small wave of heat creep up to his neck, face and ears. Bakugou seemed to get it as well, and all the traces of cockyness from yesterday were gone to be replaced with the same embarrassed blushing Kirishima was showing.

“Don’t be and idiot.” He barely muttered, quickly retrieving his hands from Kirishimas and taking his blades from the target in the tree.

The sun was already getting set in the horizon, it’s last rays barely trailing from between the tree trunks and the dirt of the floor, making the sky turn pink, then a small shade or purple and then dark blue.

Sometimes at night, Bakugou would just tell him that he would be doomed without him, but then he would teach him how to guide his path with the stars in the sky. He seems to know all of the constellations, their meaning and how to use them while traveling. Kirishima knew which way was north and which way was south thanks to his dragon senses of survival, but he let Bakugou explain the basics of astronomy to him anyways.

Kirishima decided to speak before it could take place.

Bakugou was already dropping down to the dirt, his red cape around his shoulders and covering the front of his body thanks to it’s size. The dramatic, thick fur was starting to hide his chin as he curled against it, getting comfortable on the ground. His blades probably hidden in his belt at his back, his sword jealously next to him.

“Hey Bakugou.” He said, trying to keep a calm and yet serious tone in his voice.

“What, Shitty Hair.”

He took a deep breath, hearing both their hearts beating rapidly.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” He said. “I shouldn’t have touched them. I…”

“Drop it.” Bakugou said, voice low. In the dark and so far apart, Kirishima couldn’t make his expression.

“But it was wrong! And whatever caused them, whatever stupid dragon that did it…” he had to say something. He had to tell him how sorry he was. That not all dragons were like that. That he wasn’t like that.

“I said fucking drop it!” Bakugou yelled, this time sounding definitely angry. His voice was rough and hoarse, with a threatening edge to it.

No other sound came from either of them. But Kirishima could hear Bakugou’s heart beating too fast in his chest, and he wondered if he crossed a line. And if they could ever talk about it. If they would ever have that much trust in each other. If Bakugou would ever trust him.

I’m here to steal from him. He reminded himself, sadly.

There was no star conversation that night.

He knew that he could convince Bakugou to do the right thing. He wasn’t sure before, but he was sure now. They just had to talk about it, a heart to heart, probably.

He could tell him the truth. About growing up as a half-breed, his mother nowhere to be seen and his father helping him through it. He could tell him about his transformation; how t used to be painful and how teeth were a special thing, almost sacred. They could travel together as heroes, they would be unstoppable! If Bakugou kept on teaching him how to fight, knowing the truth about Kirishima, they could stop bad guys, break the system, the wheel of unfairness in the kingdoms. They could hate greed together, share their reasons and just…

Be together. Peacefully.

Not romantically, but just coexist. Benefit from each other. Bakugou could use a better way of transportation and Kirishima would love a fighting teacher (or everything teacher, since Bakugou was good at almost everything.)

He just needed to explain everything to him. And he needed Bakugou to listen. To trust him.

It could work.

It was deep into the night when he decided it was about time to fly.

Bakugou had been asleep for a while now, small against a tree trunk. Ashen blonde spiked hair looking soft under the moonlight, huffing in his sleep every now and then.

He had never seen him sleep before: always drifting off before him, and even if it wasn’t, too long to see his features in the dark of the night. And he always woke up last, which meant Bakugou had seen him asleep. Did he look good at it? Did it matter?

He decided to put distance between them: Bakugou was a dragon slayer, he probably knew too well the sound of a dragon.

He walked in what he thought was a straight line, coughing some fire every now and then to see the path ahead of him. There were a lot of bugs in the air, buzzing when he came too close, probably sensing him because of his unnatural body heat.

He managed to walk for a solid hour when he couldn’t hold it anymore. Gritting his teeth, a wave of prickles crashed his body, and he hunched over. Tensing his muscles as hard as he could, he felt the bones inside him break and rebuild in a matter of seconds. His breathing sped up with his metabolism, muscles growing larger and larger.

Heat covered his back, there were his wings grew, pain rolling thank to the long period of not turning. He stood there a couple of minutes, focusing on growing until he was staring above the trees, the chilly air from above the animals hitting his scaley face.

He had forgotten the slight numbness that came with being a dragon. His emotions were tuned down a bit, and instead his senses got high. He small hearts of every animal around were all peaceful, maybe except the ones immediately around him, sensing the growing body heat and form. The air was very humid and warm, and the clouds above him were telling about a rainy next day.

He opened his sore wings. Three or more meter wide each. Wider than the large of a bed. And Kirishima was taller than a tree. All the small animals under him smelled scared.

Man, he fucking missed this.

At the same time he jumped up, his wings dropped strongly downwards, the air against them propelling his body up and next thing he knew, he was flying a little bit above the tree tops.

The moon seemed so close

He stopped, wings, flopping enough to keep him suspended in the air, scaled belly exposed in the night to contemplate the white, shiny dot far far away in the deep blue sky.

He felt a slight stinging in the connexion of his body and his left wing, his head seizing to see what happened.

He felt heat, and looking downwards his eyes caught the figure of a couple, both holding bows, aiming directly at him.

Bakugou would laugh at their aiming; Kirishima wasn’t that far from them and yet the arrow barely touched him. He laughed at the image of the blonde’s shit eating grin, mocking the humans under him.

His laughing turned into fire exploding from his mouth, and the humans screamed in fear. Fuck! He totally forgot it. Spending too much time as a human was numbing his memory.

The screaming continued as he flew over them, gaining altitude above the humid clouds filled with water, sighing in relief when he lost his vision of the humans who attacked him. A bitter thought settled in his mind.

What was it with human that made them attack creatures out of the blue? They believed they were better than all the other living being? The only thing they did was use them for their own benefit, those egocentric stupid idiots.


He landed not too far from where he left the sleeping form of Bakugou, wary that those humans would look after him, even if they were the ones who provoked him. The past anger bubbled up in his throat as he made his way into the dark forest.

Smoke was going out from his nostrils; he coughed, with the sudden urge to burn every fucking thing at his sight. (He had forgotten how easily his feelings-specially anger- could magnify in his dragon form)

But when the fire from his mouth illuminated the darkness, showing the soft, sleepy face of Bakugou, another feeling replaced his anger.

Things weren’t so bad.






Chapter Text

Another advantage of being a half-breed dragon was that half of all himself was better than any common human. He was fast and strong and had a good sense of smell and hearing and sight. He could process better the nutrients of food and could build muscle and burn fat faster. His metabolic system was way more improved than any other ordinary human. He could heal faster and had half less chances of getting sick from anything.

(That’s when he jinxed it)

Bakugou woke him up by throwing food at him, mumbling to eat it quickly because they were near a village so they had more chances of getting ambushed. The red head took it and palped his back, were the cut from yesterday should have been.

His faster metabolism worked. His skin was completely healed. He smiled, but it quickly faded when he looked at Bakugou only to find him frowning while he looked away.

 Kirishima could not decipher if he was angry.

But he could say that Bakugou was avoiding him at all costs.

The moment Kirishima ended swallowing his fruit, Bakugou started to walk quickly into the woods. The trees were thinning out the more close they got to the village, but it wasn’t in their path. Kirishima knew that if changed course to the east and walked a day or less, they would get to it. But Bakugou had made his idea about villages very clear, and if he wasn’t giving in into Kirishima’s persuasion before, he sure as hell wasn’t now.

He tried conversation, but Kirishima himself wasn’t particularly in the mood to talk. Mainly because his head was aching a bit and because Bakugou would not look into his direction. He barely even grunted in acknowledge of his presence anymore, and it stung a bit.

He had been building up a solid relationship with the guy all throughout their journey.

He had talked about himself. Not many of the things he said were completely true, but the intention of sharing his life with someone was there. And Bakugou had been able to read him: to know when to train, when to stop their fighting, when he was hungry or cold or uncomfortable or when he was both making jokes and back-handedly stabbing his self-esteem in the bad habit he always had. Bakugou had seen him as someone worth surviving with and now it felt like all of their development had been taken back and even worse.

He frowned, his head and heart squeezing at the same time and he felt a lump in his throat.

“We okay man?” he said, trying to keep his tone from sounding vulnerable. He wasn’t sure he made it. “You seem quiet.”

Bakugou only growled shortly.

Kirishima’s feet hurt and his body felt like it was made out of stone with each step, feeling the effect of gravity weighing him down, but he kept his pace behind Bakugou as they walked in between the trees. They were so short he had to avoid being hit by branches a couple of times, ducking taking all of the little energy he had.

He didn’t feel like himself. He wanted to cry.

When lunch came, Bakugou stopped only to spread around the wood’s trees, looking lfor any animal that could be their potential food. They dug a small hole on the ground next to a green bush to leave their belonging there and then proceeded to walk around in their search.

“We could, like, work on my aim.” Kirishima said, eyeing the many blades that hung from Bakugou’s belt, only able to be seen when his cape moved around.

Bakugou stood silent, walking ahead of him.

He felt the unfamiliar wave of tickling from his feet to his face, a second later before his eyes got wet. Kirishima swallowed the lump in his throat and tried again. “You know, since it’s so bad. I still don’t know how you do it. Like, it’s really hard yet you’re so good at it! You could, like, teach me or…”

“I don’t fucking care.” Bakugou said, voice low and annoyed. “Shut the fuck up already.”

They drifted far away from their marked staying spot because there barely were animals anywhere. Kirishima wasn’t really hungry, but Bakugou seemed determined to hunt something and ignore him, so there was nothing to do about it.

They had a half-hour walk to do to arrive to their marked spot when they found a bunny.

It was very small, it’s brown hair short and soft-looking, with its long ears dropped at the sides of its face. It was young, he could tell.

Bakugou had his hand propped up in the air, blade in hand but he hesitated. His red eyes were narrowing as he scanned the small animal on the ground, not moving while something Kirishima couldn’t recognize crossed his eyes.

He was doubting.

“I think I saw a bigger one down the dirt path.” He lied. He knew Bakugou knew he was lying. He knew Bakugou would not answer. But he gave him a way out of killing the small animal anyways. Bakugou obviously didn’t want to do it. “And if there’s a baby, its mother has to be around here too. It wouldn’t be enough to feed us anyway.”

Bakugou was still tense in his posture, ready to throw the blade and kill. But he lowered his hand, eyes still on the bunny. He grunted in a low voice and walked away.

Kirishima regretted not killing the bunny and ending their walk a couple of minutes later.

They kept on walking. And he wasn’t sure if the soil was too soft or if the tree trunk decided to get in his way, but walking proved to be harder and harder by the minute. His small headache was big as a mountain and his limbs hurt like hell and his back was killing him and his eyes felt hot and sleepy and his mouth was pasty and he wanted to curl in a bed and cry because Bakugou didn’t like him and he liked Bakugou severely.

Ah, fuck. He was going insane.

“I think we should stop, you know, have a break.” He managed to croak out. Talking felt like a waste of energy, but then again, breathing did too.

Bakugou only continued to walk farther and farther away, not answering him.

“It’s been a long walk, dude, we could-slow down…” he was slurring , slowering his pace as his legs trembled. God he felt like shit.

“Shut it.” Bakugou growled.

“ ’M tired, dude.” He said, breathing heavily. “ Let’s call ‘time out.”

“We have to keep fucking moving.” Bakugou sounded more annoyed, not glaring at him at all. “And we have to haunt something. Move your weak ass and shut the fuck up already.”

“But ‘m tired.” He said, on the edge of tears. He just wanted to sleep.

“I don’t fucking care.”

When did Bakugou walked so far away from him? Was he running? Or was Kirishima just too slow? With his stomach churning, he realized he felt the worst he’d ever felt. When did he catch a cold? Were colds this intense for every human? He was definitelyy not getting any better, as small dark dots danced in his vision.

“I’ll take ‘quick nap” he slurred badly before his legs gave out beneath him.

“You better hurry the fuck up or I’ll leave you here for dead, ye heard me?” Bakugou growled.

He fell flat on the dirt, immediately curling on himself, reaching up to cover himself with his wings. Then, he realized he didn’t have his wing and he whimpered, another wave of dizziness hitting him.

“You heard me or not, you idiot?” Bakugou growled, angry. He turned around, surprised at not getting a response. “Shitty Hair?”

There was one behind him.

He looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of him, when he recognized the spiked, red hair far behind him. The red dot was on the floor.

“Oi!” he screamed, running back. Kirishima whimpered at the noise, feeling the vibration of Bakugou’s feet hitting against the floor as he ran towards him. “The fuck’s going on?”

He felt Bakugou’s smell and presence, and he tried to look up. He immediately winced, the bright shine of the sun paining him. Bakugou’s expression changed entirely, eyes widening and he kneeled beside him.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, what’s going on?” he heard Bakugou talk to him, and he grunted in response. He was feeling too much like shit way too fast and he didn’t know what happened.

“I-I don’t feel right.” He cried, though he had no tears. His head pounded again and he winced.

“Hey! Look at me. C’mon. Hey.” He felt too dizzy, the world spinning furiously as a hand caressed the back of his head and another propped his shoulder off the floor. “Don’t faint. Stay awake.”

His face was clammy and his senses were both overflowing him and disappearing completely. His whole body changed from feeling numb to hurt like a bitch in a matter of seconds and everything was making him nauseous and dizzy. He tried to curl up more, pressing against the legs that couched his head.

“Kirishima?” Bakugou called, in a voice he never heard before. It was low and soft and unsure. Unsure and worried and fearful. He tried to pen his eyes, barely managing to do it and watch Bakugou looking at him with nothing but worry.

He raised his pale hand and cupped one of Kirishima’s cheeks, then going to his forehead, frowning with a dark look in his eyes.

“You have a fever.” He said, tone low and angry again, but not explosive like it always was. “You’re sick. Damn it.”

“ ‘M fine.” He tried to reassure him immediately after seeing his expression turn bitter and tense. His voice was croaked and broken all over.

“No you’re fucking not” he said, angry. The volume rose and Kirishima winced, curling up away from him. He heard Bakugou whisper a small ‘fuck’. “We gotta go back.”

“N-No shit.” He tried to joke, body starting to tremble. Bakugou frowned at him, but a small, tense smile showed up in his lips.

“Being a little shit now of all times, fuckhead?” Bakugou said with a low voice. “You better hang on tight.”

And without any other warning, he stretched out his arms under Kirishima’s knees and back, pulling him up with tense muscles. Kirishima whined as nausea hit him, hiding his face in Bakugou’s chest, trying to feel safe in vain.

He had never got a strong cold. Being half a dragon gave him immunity to common human diseases. He couldn’t possibly have caught a cold because of his little flying trip last night. He had endured worse!

The first time he had got a dragon heat, he felt so hot all over he decided to take a swim dive in the river. It was at night, during the peak of winter. He didn’t even so much as sniff the next day.

Why was he feeling so terrible now? The general pain was worsening by the second and he could feel himself drift off as Bakugou walked towards their staying spot with him in his arms. His instinct was screaming at him to get to a safe place, to curl up, to protect himself. But he couldn’t even try to transform into his dragon form and he was deep in the open woods, far away from anyone who didn’t despised him, far away from home.

“Kirishima, stay awake.” Bakugou was saying. It was the most serious he’d ever heard him before, and yet the idea of sleeping sounded so tempting. “Don’t close your fucking eyes. Stay awake, god damnit.”

But he was so tired, he couldn’t help but curl up in against the closest thing he had to a safe place and allow sleep to take him, even as Bakugou’s pleadings still sounded in his ears.

Then, he heard nothing.

Chapter Text

He woke up at the cold feeling of being settled down on a wooden chair. Kirishima tried to open his eyes, only to recognice Bakugou’s crispy blonde hair as he talked to woman.

They were inside a building; the concrete walls had tapestries hanging with some royal emblem and the chairs were old and dusty. There was a fire burning near the far end of the medium sized room, and a hallway next to it gave the sight of multiple doors far, far away.

The entrance doors were wide open, showing that outside it was already the late afternoon. The grass having orange tonalities as the warming heat died down.

“My apologies, but we have no other room left for you and your guest.” The woman said. Her long, straight hair was black and tied up in a messy ponytail, as one single strand of hair fell down the side of her face. Hes maiden dress was deep, blood-like red, and it did nothing to hide her small waist and big looking breasts.

Bakugou didn’t care about her beauty, as he ferally screamed. “I don’t fucking care what it takes, we’re staying in here. If ya’ want money, you better go and kick some of the other assholes out and give us the room, because I got a shit ton of money and I’m motherfucking desperate enough to kill anyone just so this red headed idiot can fucking lay down and rest for the night.”

On cue, Bakugou tore a small, leather bag from his belt and slammed it against the counter, the sound of golden coins filling the air. The woman looked surprised, eyeing the bag with greed. Bakugou lifted up a dagger.

“Say the name and I’ll get rid of ‘em.”

That seemed to snap her back to reality. She quickly frowned and she carefully put his dagger away from the counter. “There will be no need for that, milord; I can dispose of them myself.”

Leaving her place behind the counter, the woman walked through the entrance of the hallway next to the fireplace and disappeared into one of the many doors, apparently kicking someone out. As angry, male voices answered far away in complaints, a group of man entered into the hall.

Kirishima’s head hurt at the movement, as he analized the men with a look. They seemed between adults and old ones, with simple robes and weary belts hanging from their waists. Probably farmers. Local villages.

But they all looked at Bakugou with admiration and fear, as the latter stood straighter, the dagger still in his hand.

“Dragon-slayer, we have finally found you!” said the frontman. His hair was long and dirty, ending a couple of inches above his shoulders. His long, tanned face was marked by wrinkles and age lines, his eyes droopy, one with a white fog that only indicated he was half blind.

Bakugou only grunted in acknowledgement.

“Our farter villages, in the northen side of the country-side had sight a Dragon! A red, gigantic beast!” The older man behind him murmured in astonishment, as they didn’t already know for dramatic purposes. Bakugou looked unimpressed.

“How wassit.” He said, shortly.

“Bigger than a sailing ship! Half a mountain! He had terrible fangs and claws! The beast terrorises our lanes and people, flying around since last night!”

Only then, Kirishima’s brain caught up: They were talking about him.

And they were pretty much lying, too.

“We require of your services! We have gold as payment, of course, but we need you right away!”

Bakugou stood there, unmoving and considering it. Then, he turned to Kirishima.

Although his face was the same unreadable expression as always, there was something flickering in his eyes. He carefully studied Kirishima from head to toe, his red gaze stopping only at his eyes, like he was looking for something in his face. Kirishima tried to look healthier, propping himself up in the chair, fully aware that Bakugou had just paid the woman a very exuberant amount of money just so Kirishima could lay down.

Looking almost defeated, Bakugou sighed and turned to the group of men.


Their eyebrows shot up, surprised. The frontman snorted. “Excuse me? Did you say…?”

“I won’t do it.” He repeated, now annoyed.

“B-But! You’re the Dragon slayer! It’s your job to slay dragons!” He seemed astonished.

“Well, the dragon slayer is taking a day off.” Bakugou said, in a humorous tone Kirishima never heard before. His lips tugged in a smile towards the blond.

“I’m not wasting money on some damn brothel just because you’re a fucking weakling. We’re not here to make friends, this is my fucking job.”

Kirishima smiled through the pain, watching as Bakugou stepped closer to him slightly.

“You have to do it!” Another guy said. “You have to!”

Bakugou’s head quickly turned to the voice, fast like an owl. Things were gonna get ugly if they didn’t stop pestering him.

“You say the dragon terrorises you and your people? Sounds to me like you just can’t stand seeing it. Unless the so-big dragon does anything else than flying around like any other motherfucking dove would, I’ll keep on minding my own business, as should the lot of ye’.”

The man did not seemed pleased, as he frowned and opened up his mouth to speak up again. But Bakugou walked towards him, the dagger raising aggressively as he stared down at the man.

He just stood there, chest against chest as he levelled up the dagger towards the other man’s cheek. The metal pressed against his aged skin and everyone around tensed, not moving a bit.

Bakugou smiled mockingly. “I’ve lived around dragons all my life.” He said slowly. The dagger dragged down his face onto his neck, barely harmless. “What do you think a pathetic weakling like you is to me?”

Footsteps sounded as the woman appeared in the hallway entrance. She spoke up in a tense voice. “Your room is ready, sire.”

Bakugou stood there, intimidating the man. He took back his weapon, slouching slightly to whisper to the man. “Saved by a lady, you’re on luck today.” Then, he walked back to Kirishimas side, power radiating off him. Under everyone elses gazes, he took hold of Kirishimas arm and surrounded his own neck with it. Kirishima stood up, leaning on Bakugou to not fall face flat into the ground.

Ignoring as the group of men retrieved, the walked towards the room the woman-Yaoyorozu, apparently- leaded them to.

After he fell in the bed, he closed his eyes tightly, nausea kicking him like a bitch. He curled on himself as he heard movement around the room.

He dozed off in a dreamless sleep. He woke up not long after: the sun outside the window had hid completely, leaving the room completely dark except for the fire burning in the fireplace in front of the bed. Kirishima tried to sit up, failing miserably.

He was covered in a heavy, thick fur. Probably from a wolf. There was a bunch of food and strange liquids on a wooden table next to the duvet, and Bakugou was simply sitting on the floor next the fireplace. Cleaning his boots, apparently.

“I feel like crap.” He croaked, a wave of pain releasing all through his brain, making him wince and barely supress a whimper. His whole body temperature was rising and he could literally feel it in his muscles.

“You’ll be fucking fine.” Bakugou muttered from the floor.

“I…” he didn’t end the sentence. The tingling in his eyes was the only indicator he needed to know he was one word away from tears. The reasoning to the crying was something out of Kirishimas understanding, so he just let the salty drops fall through his cheeks.

Bakugou seemed to sense the sudden cut in his speech, because he turned his head around like an owl, facial expression changing at the sight of tears. He used the hands in his knees to propel himself up, walking towards Kirishima’s bed side.

Kirishima tried to scoop away enough to let a bit of space for Bakugou to sit, but his flesh was hot jelly and he felt pathetic for not even being able to properly move. His meat was getting fried by his own blood and everything just kinda sucked.

But the blonde went to kneel on the floor right next to him, aggressively rubbing the tears off from Kirishima’s face.

“There’s a healer coming, you’ll be patched up in no time. Stop being a cry baby.” Despite the usually harsh words, his tone was soft and his hand was now slowly cleaning the wet tracks, pulling the sweaty hair away with careful movements.

“I feel like I’m dying.”

That was true. Maybe his dragon senses were too fucked up to be working properly, but there was a feeling of recognition at the changes that were crushing his body. Something was wrong, and he was completely, utterly freaking out about dying. Only because it felt too real.

“You’re not gonna die.” His words were loud and strong, but the red head felt the hands on his face tense for a second.

He kept sniffling as he curled up in himself. He tried to rewind his memory; to find whatever it was that was causing him to feel so bad. But no matter how hard he tried, the only thing he kept on going back to was memories of Bakugou and him doing stupidly ordinary things together. Splashing water, hunting, fighting, eating, sleeping…

Then there was his dad. His old man stories, his calloused hands as he taught him how to properly farm, as they played in their living room, as their cooked together.

“The hag is a pain in the ass.” He heard Bakugou’s voice speak. He was unusually calm, not looking at Kirishima. His words sounded choked, but he didn’t stop talking. “Complains about everything. Arrogant bitch, always smacking me around for not being appropriate.”

Kirishima was still not sure who exactly was Bakugou talking about, but his attention was dawned to him anyways. “But she’s damn strong, gotta give her that. ‘Taught me how to fight when I was just a lil brat, ‘cause she was a recognised shield maiden. I had to be a fighter too, it was a family thing.”

His mom, he noticed. Of course Bakugou would refer to his mom as a hag. He felt his breathing evening slowly.

Bakugou’s face had changed too. Still not looking at him, but with a soft, almost unnoticeable half smile. “The old man is more calm. Sure he’s just as bad-mouthed as the hag and I, but he can control it better. He isn’t that much into fighting either, but he can use a sword well enough.” The small smile turned into an annoyed scowl, “I don’t look that much like him. His hair shape maybe, but that’s about it. The hag looks exactly like me, or the other fucking way round, whatever. Except that, ya’ know, she has tits basically.”

Kirishima wanted to intrude with a ‘You do have tiddies’, but he was both too tired to speak and too fixated in Bakugou’s chat to intervene.

He felt his eyelids drop as sleep went to get him, a perfect release from the cruel, painful world of the conscious. Just as he rested his head against the hand under him, he blurted in slurred words: “If shes like you I’d like her”.

The heat was rising, he knew. He closed his eyes, falling into slumber as he cradled the foreign hand like his pillow.

Somewhere in between the darkness consuming him, Bakugou said something that sounded like “She would have liked you, too.”

Kirishima wouldn’t remember it.

Chapter Text

There was a buzzing. The volume of it was constant for a while, not loud enough to hurt him, nor low enough to be ignored. It was everything Kirishima could hear, the display of sound that seemed endless, tiring and overall boring. He felt like he was floating in warm air, limbs and mind asleep and he only stood there, not feeling anything.

Then the buzzing was interrupted by something. A distorted voice which words Kirishima couldn’t understand, but with a tone he could recognise with both his human and dragon form. A sense of familiarity filled his gut and suddenly he felt himself wanting to awake from his dull sleep and meet the source of the voice, but he wasn’t quite sure how to do it. He didn’t even know what was happening, yet he knew that the voice was familiar and truthful and safe.

As wished, the buzzing subsided slightly, and the voice became clearer to his hearing, yet it’s words made no sense. Apparently it was angry.

“-have I ever asked you for anything? When have I fucking asked you for anything, at all?! You have to-!” It sounded distressed and that made Kirishima feel sad.

“I can’t, Kacchan! I won’t! I’m not gonna risk you again. Besides, I can’t even heal him if I’m not there-“


The scream pierced through the buzzing, loud and broken and desperate. It was rough at the end and it left a silent void in the atmosphere.

Kirishima didn’t know how long it lasted, but he did know that it was far way too long. Every inch of his body physically ached to comfort to voice, to say something, to move. But he couldn’t even register the existence of his body, nor was he even sure of what the conversation was about, or who was talking.

“Fuck.” He heard the same voice. It was tired and definitely defeated. He then heard a sigh. “Give me something. Anything just…” there was a pause. “…help me fucking heal him. Please Deku. I’m fucking begging you, okay?”

The second voice, more high-pitched and calmer one, responded quietly.

“You’ll have to promise me to take care. It’s dangerous, Kacchan. The time gap is not wide enough to be safe.”

“I know the risks.”

“Then why are you doing it?” the second voice sounded angry. “You’ve come this far. You’re so close to home! You’re risking your life and the fangs for-”

“I fucking know, damn it!” another scream, yet less loud. “But I have to. I just have to.”

There was a small pause.

“You gonna help me or not?”

And suddenly, it was warm.

Hot exploded in his body, like he had been dropped in a sea of fire. He felt his skin crawl and the floaty feeling was gone. His nerves had awoken and his limbs felt heavy and hot and in so much pain he immediately started losing consciousness, overwhelmed by the sickness of his body and the especially painful spot in his side, under his armpit.

Needles were poking at him from his right and he vaguely registered a blinding green light that blinded him. Then hands were in his face and then someone was constricting his throat, choking him until everything went dark.





He opened his eyes to the smell of pork and condiments.

Hunger kicking his stomach hard, Kirishima sat up on the bed. There was an afternoon light entering through the small open window, illuminating the floor next to his bed at his right, were his clothes laid folded under his boots. The fireplace was slightly lit up and close to it there was a pewter cauldron with contents Kirishima couldn’t guess.

Wearing off the sleepiness of his body, he made a mental list of symptoms he had lost. The fever was gone, leaving behind his smelly, sticky dry skin, and despite his whole body felt tired and weary, he no longer felt the pain that had him crying on his fours days ago.

Had it been days, tho? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t recall anything since their last fight.

Suddenly bolting upwards on himself, he snapped: Where was Bakugou? Looking around the room, he found himself looking for any sign of the blond, bad tempered guy, only to be disappointed. There was no sight of him at all. If anything, his whole trip with the guy could be an illusion of his sicken days, only to wake up in a random lodging, trying to forget every hurtful memory of his dad and trying to feel like he belong anywhere in the world.

Just as he started to feel sadness sinking in his chest, the door was opened with a loud kick and the big, buffy figure of Bakugou appeared.

He looked pale. His eyes were shadowed gravely and the sclera of his eyes were almost completely red, looking like his naturally red iris had grown until it filled the whole white space.

He smelled weird.

He only realized Bakugou had been carrying wood when he dropped it, surprised. Bakugou quickly went to Kirishima’s side, brows furrowed and expression still shocked.

“You’re awake, fuck.” It was what he said. “Tell me exactly how you feel and you better be eloquent as hell. You can’t get sick again. Do you have a fever? Fucking cover yourself, idiot, you can’t just-” he demanded quickly, running his hand to his face, then his forehead and then proceeding to take the covers at his waist and hold them up to Kirishima’s neck, like they were on winter instead of summer.

“Wow, Bakugou, chill!” he blurted out with a very hoarse voice, immediately coughing in his hand. His throat was burning and heck it really hurt…

Bakugou was quick to push a copper goblet full of water into his hand and Kirishima drank it with no problem. The moisture felt like heaven and he smiled.

“See? Fucking called it. You have to be more fucking careful, dipshit. Do you even-“ Kirishima interrupted with no fear.

“I’m fine! I feel fine. Maybe a bit dry and tired, but it’s still so much better than before, God…” he sighed.

There was a wooden bucket full of water on the floor at his bedside and a lot of towels on the floor. The small table next to the duvet had a dozen of different chopped herbs and liquids as well as ointments.

The bed was so small Kirishima took all of the space in it. Then, it clicked.

“How long was I out?”

The mention of him being unconscious seemed to make Bakugou either upset or angry, because his frown deepened and his hand got into fists, but he answered:

“A week and a half.”

 He was surprised.

“And you took care of me?”

Bakugou got red in the face, lowering his gaze like he was embarrassed. He cursed under his breath and then he stood up from his side in the bed, kneeling next to the size two cauldron.

“Fucking eat before it gets cold.”

It was answer enough. He seemed tired and had big eye bags, probably from taking care of him while the fever chewed his ass in the night.

He handed him a plate of pork soup and an herbal tea, threatening him to eat everything or suffer the consequences. Kirishima did as ordered despite growing full at half his meal.

Kirishima didn’t get details. He had to beg and annoy and pester Bakugou to even tell him how it had been in a tense, nonchalant manner.

Kirishima got the worst fever he’d ever seen. With hallucinations included and a lot of sweat involved. Bakugou had taken his clothes off. It made him embarrassed to hear that, especially since Kirishima didn’t thought he had a body to be very proud of, but Bakugou said it like he had just been talking about the weather instead of stripping a guy naked and soaking off his (lots of) sweat with towels for days.

There had been healers involved, yet none of them knew what Kirishima could possibly have. Every single one of them said he would surely be dead by the next day and every single one of them go their ass handed to them. Bakugou himself wasn’t sure of what he had, but he apparently sweated it off.

They just talked with silent pauses every once in a while until it was dark and Bakugou stood up to close the wooden covers of the window, the fire dimming out slowly.

Bakugou sat down to check his temperature again, looking slightly relieved when he said that everything was apparently normal.

“Where did you sleep?” Kirishima asked, out of the blue. Bakugou frowned slightly, too tired to keep on being explosively irritant.

“On the fucking floor?” he said like it was obvious. “Where I have slept all my life? Are you brain damaged?”

Kirishima only smiled shyly, feeling himself grow exhausted. “Why don’t you lay for a bit?”

Like Kirishima had electrocuted him with words, Bakugou immediately straightened and got ready to stand up “Never in fucking hell. I’ve always slept on floors. You might be better, but you’re still fucking sick, damn it. I won’t-” Kirishima tackled him right there before Bakugou could leave, wrapping his arms around the guy and smashing both of them on the bed, using all of the strength left in him to make Bakugou lay still next to him.

The blonde fought like a demon.

“Let me go, you shit haired idiot! I’m not gonna sleep next to you stinky, sick ass!”he rolled around, but he was looked just as tired as Kirishima.

Feeling a headache but not giving up, Kirishima’s grip got stronger. “Just stay still! At least for one moment, come on!”

“Fucking let go or you’ll regret-”

He decided to approach the issue differently.

“What, you’re too much a coward to just lay beside a man for a while?” he blurted, not sure if it would work. “Do you feel threatened by it? That’s very unmanly.”

“I’m not a coward, you shit! You’re no threat to anyone. And I’m plenty fucking manly!”

It seemed to work, because he stopped fighting, growing tense but still at his side. His cape was discarded next to Kirishima’s clothes alongside his leather belt, leaving him with pants and his arm bracers on top of the blankets.

Kirishima scooped to the left edge of the bed, trying to give Bakugou more space to use and get comfortable. His eyelids felt heavy and sleep was reaching to him. He turned to Bakugou.

The blonde scoffed at him, rolling his bloody eyes.

“Looks like you popped a blood vessel.” Kirishima pointed at Bakugou’s eyes. “Or all of them, at least.”

Bakugou immediately lowered his face unconsciously, hiding. “I haven’t done shit. It just happened.”

“It’s too much to just appear.”

“Well you were at the brink of fucking death and we still don’t know fucking why. Shit happens.”

They stood there silent, breathing slowly as the fire died out and the only sound they could hear was the usual chirping of insects and wind outside the closed window.

And if Bakugou fell asleep next to him, Kirishima pretended he didn’t notice.