Chapter Text
The air hung thick and humid as Katsuki walked, pressing in on his lungs to an uncomfortable degree. He swatted a bug away from his face, but he knew it wouldn't be of much use, because thousands more were making a symphony in the grass. Night was coming on fast, but he knew the kobini would still be open for a few more hours at least. He only needed a few ingredients for dinner anyway; hopefully the old woman at the counter didn't want to make too much small talk. He was clad in casual clothes, so most wouldn't recognize him, but Ms. Hamada wouldn't be fooled. After all, he'd been coming to this place for as long as he could remember.
The dim light on the corner was just beginning to glow as Katsuki pulled on the door handle, causing the little bells to jingle. Ice cold air slapped him in the face, refreshing after his walk in the dying summer heat. Katsuki picked up a small basket and began to weave through the aisles. For the last twenty years, the contents on the shelves had been arranged in the same exact order. He collected the soy sauce, rice vinegar, nori, panko, and miso paste that his father had requested. Even though they were only staying for a week in this little town, Masaru had planned a specific meal for each night. That also hadn't changed since Katsuki was small.
He was making his way towards the counter when he caught sight of a young girl peeking at him around a shelf. She had wide, brown eyes, and her hair was done up in a perfectly neat, raven bun. It had taken him a long time to admit it, but Katsuki knew kids were naturally drawn to him, so he tried to give her a small smile. She blinked, then scurried away when someone called her name.
Katsuki followed her towards the front, where a woman was checking out with her items. The little girl stood at her side, barely coming up to the woman's hip. Her daughter, probably. Ms. Hamada made small talk with the woman, her wrinkled face drawn in a smile. Then she glanced up and caught sight of Katsuki.
“Oh my! Is that you, Katsuki-kun?!”
“Yes, Auntie.”
“Well, look at you coming back from the city to visit us in the middle of nowhere! He's a big time hero, you know,” she said to the woman at the counter, gesturing back to Katsuki who stood there rather awkwardly. The woman smiled in the bored way people do when enduring a pointless conversation and gave him a brief nod. The little girl turned around, blinking at him again. She couldn't have been older than twelve. That's when Katsuki noticed something strange.
A collar.
Or rather, it wasn't exactly a collar. It was a silver choker, about half an inch in width, with an engraving Katsuki couldn't read. Perhaps it was just a regular necklace, an heirloom or something.
“A hero?” she parroted, her long skirt swishing against her ankles. They were the first words she'd uttered, and her mother cast a scathing glance her way in response.
“Um, yeah,” he replied, looking up to observe what the older woman was wearing. She too was dressed in a modest style, but her hair flowed freely down the back of her neck.
“Like, you save people?”
Just as Katsuki went to nod, Ms. Hamada finished checking them out, and the woman grabbed the girl's wrist rather aggressively. The child lurched slightly as she was tugged along.
“Thank you for all you do,” the woman said in a tight voice, not sparing Katsuki another glance. The girl, however, never took her eyes off him. They were somehow both curious and resigned as she disappeared behind the foggy glass. He felt a deep stirring within.
Help pup.
It disoriented him for a moment, but Katsuki continued to the counter as normal. He laid out his items and spoke with Ms. Hamada, then took his chance to get information. After all, she did love to gossip.
“Do those two come here regularly?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose they do. It's not always that woman, though, and usually there's more.”
“More what?”
“Kids.”
“That wasn't her kid?”
“I can't say. I think so? Truth is, there's a group of folks that live on the other side of the train tracks, you know by that abandoned restaurant? They all dress alike, and they don't speak much.”
“So… what do they do for work?”
“I think some of them work in local farming around here, maybe some construction. Like I said, we don't see them all that much.”
“You keep referring to ‘em as a group. It's not one family?”
“No, I think it's several. They all live together, I've been told. But they don't bother anybody, so we don't bother them.”
She bagged the final item, and when she handed the bag back to him she patted his hand.
“Now, now, don't fret, Katsuki-kun. They're just a little odd is all. Enjoy your vacation. I heard you brought someone with you?”
Katsuki's ears burned.
“Who told you that?”
“Well, he already popped by this morning, smiling ear to ear and talking all about you. My, he is handsome!”
“Izuku,” Katsuki grumbled in embarrassment.
“Tell your parents I said hello!”
“I will, Auntie. Thank you.”
Katsuki exited the shop and couldn't keep himself from looking both ways. The street was empty, however; no sight of the little girl. A lone owl hooted in the distance. The only word Katsuki could come up with to describe the feeling in his gut was dread.
He recalled Izuku telling him of the first time he saw Eri, how something in his soul had just screamed at him to help. He had no confirmation; the child hadn't even looked distressed. But when she asked if he was a hero, there was a sort of mildewed hope in her tone, like something good hadn't happened to her in a really, really long time.
It was dark now; he needed to get home so his father could start dinner.
“I'm tellin' ya, ‘Zuku, it was weird,” Katsuki huffed as he slipped on his pajama pants. Izuku hummed thoughtfully.
“I agree. Do you want to look into it?”
“How? I mean, I know the area she's talking about, but we don't have a warrant or anything. Why the hell would those folks let us in their house?”
“I don't know. Maybe we could just stop by and say hello. We might be able to at least get an idea if there's anything wrong.”
“I wish I hadn't let ‘em leave the store,” Katsuki mumbled. He'd picked his nail beds until they bled at dinner, and normally he kept his hands pristine. Izuku stepped forward and hugged him, wrapping them in the scent of summer and safety.
“Don't do that. You didn't have a reason to follow them.”
“I could've asked the brat some questions.”
“We'll ask tomorrow.”
“But I—”
“Kacchan,” Izuku whispered, “What's gotten into you? I'm normally the one playing the blame game.”
“I just—”
He looked away, blush dusting his cheeks.
“My instincts told me something was wrong.”
His mate grew quiet then. It wasn't often that Katsuki acknowledged his secondary instincts, despite all the progress he'd made toward self-acceptance. If he was willing to speak something of that nature out in the open, it meant he was very serious.
“Ah.”
“And I know that sounds stupid, or whatever—”
“Hey, hey. It's not stupid, Kacchan. I believe you. If you say something’s up, then we'll go check it out together.”
Katsuki sighed in relief, leaning into Izuku's hold.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” Katsuki murmured. Izuku scented his wrists and neck, then kissed his forehead.
“So cute.”
“Am not.”
“Are too,” he sighed, pressing a brief, warm kiss to Katsuki's lips. “I'm so lucky.”
“I won't argue there.”
Izuku laughed, and Katsuki knew with certainty that it was his favorite sound in the whole world. In high school, right after the war, he'd been so depressed that he left his hearing aids out more often than not. Then he realized he wasn't able to hear Izuku's voice, and he put them right back in.
Izuku swayed them side to side a bit in a silly fashion, his eyes squeezed shut into little half-moons. Katsuki admired the freckles on his face, the scrunch of his nose, and the scar that bloomed across his cheek (a permanent reminder of the horrors they'd survived). A purr rumbled out of his throat, and five years ago he would've smothered it down with all his might. Now, he couldn't be bothered.
“I'm going to my separate room now,” he giggled.
“That's such a joke.”
“C'mon, your parents are just being protective.”
“I'm twenty,” Katsuki replied flatly, causing Izuku to snicker. He leaned forward and kissed Katsuki again, who promptly pulled away due to the smile he felt on Izuku's lips. “If you're going to kiss me, quit laughing.”
Now he was really riled up, and he buried his face in the crook of Katsuki's neck while his whole frame shook with laughter.
“You're such a dork!”
“I can't— help it!” he wheezed. Katsuki rolled his eyes and playfully bit his ear to take revenge. Izuku gasped in mock offense, head snapping up. “You did not.”
The only reply he got was Katsuki sticking his tongue out.
“You absolute child,” Izuku whispered, tugging him closer. It was Katsuki's turn to laugh now, but he kept it quieter and more controlled. He'd pass away if his parents heard them being sappy like this. A hand came up to cup his cheek, or so he thought. Instead Izuku grabbed his chin and tilted his head back, pressing his lips to Katsuki's exposed neck. He quit laughing.
In response to this new underhanded development, Katsuki rested both his hands on Izuku's hip bones and rubbed his thumbs in small, gentle circles to make the other's breath hitch. It worked like a charm; it always did. Izuku snuck one last kiss on his throat before pulling away, face flushed.
“Kacchan.”
“Hmm?”
“Not fair.”
“You started this!”
Izuku kissed him on the lips again, this time more deliberate. He always kissed like it meant something, like Katsuki meant something. It wasn't rushed or lustful, just a slow communication of his devotion. During the first few months of their relationship, when everything was new and scary, Katsuki had secretly worried his kisses might become that way, that Izuku would want to take more than he was comfortable giving. In time, though, his mate had proven that couldn't be further from the truth. Izuku's love was steady and sure, a calm ocean for Katsuki to float on. He touched gently, listened sharply, and moved slowly. Everything he did was measured, because he knew how difficult it could be sometimes for Katsuki to trust him.
Well, it used to be difficult. Katsuki was perfectly pliant in his hands, relaxed in a way only Izuku ever got to see. In the constant carousel of danger that came with his job as a pro hero, Izuku was safety. As long as he stayed here, Katsuki knew no harm would come to him.
Calloused fingers grazed the back of Katsuki's neck, drawing a shudder out of him. Immediately, Izuku lowered his hand and pulled back.
“Too much?”
He nodded, temporarily speechless. Moments like these always got his heart pumping faster than it probably should according to his doctor. Izuku moved his hands to Katsuki's sides.
“Better?”
“Mm.”
Another kiss, and this time Katsuki felt Izuku's fingers tighten around his waist, pressing in. He gasped right against his mouth, and he figured he'd have the decency to be embarrassed later. Warmth flooded through him, so strong that Katsuki hadn't realized he was cold until he wasn't anymore. He wanted to chase that warmth, to feel this close to Izuku all the time—
A bang! of a pan jolted them out of the moment. Katsuki's mother was right down the hall, presumably washing dishes. Izuku blushed a deep pink and let Katsuki go.
“I'm going to go to bed now,” he whispered, a sheepish grin on his face.
“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Izuku. I love you.”
“I love you too, Kacchan,” he replied, taking off his hoodie and throwing it on Katsuki's bed.
“Wha–”
“You weren't going to ask, so there.”
“Iz—”
“Keep it. You sleep better.”
Katsuki huffed, turning away to hide the heat rising to his cheeks.
“Fine. Whatever.”
Izuku kissed his forehead and then left. Katsuki stared at the door for a minute after he was gone, feeling that happy, bubbly sensation in his chest only Izuku could supply him with.
It was almost enough to make him forget about young, haunted brown eyes. Almost.