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Hero Names
Chapter Notes
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Kousuke
Despite the cool shade of sea green, the dame's eyes are fire when she wields a blade. It is mesmerizing to witness. Her stance, the way she glides between two soldiers, every step calculated and every breath bated with intention.
If she was not so stubborn to stay ten feet away from me whenever I entered the same room, I might have already confessed my affections to her. I wonder what keeps her from getting closer. I wonder what provokes her to keep her distance.
Must I change my ways even more? I already have shown reluctant kindness to the elderly folk and played with the orphans in my protection. Must I make a spectacle of it for her to see me as approachable? I have already befriended most of my army; even came to an understanding with that wretched Sir Mori. Must I show my trust to her? I have already allowed Manami to take her out on her patrols, practically showing her all of my kingdom's lands through them.
What must I do to show how much of a hold she has on me?
She twirls, stealing one man's sword and disarming the other. Another twirl and she kisses her blades against their necks.
She wins again. Six matches in one day and not one has her admit defeat.
Oh high goddess of the dragons, have mercy on my heart.
I clench a fist on my chest. She is too enticing to ignore. I want to be with her. I want her by my side.
How can I convince her that we would be a good match? How can I prove to my court that she is worthy of being queen?
"She is talented."
I jump in my skin, whipping my head to the voice coming from my flank.
My mentor for the past ten years, Shosei Aiyama, stands behind my in his black cloak and single eyepatch, his medium length hair tangled in a half bun.
"Master Shosei." I grumble. "It is unlike you to come unannounced."
"I did not wish to disturb you. You seemed... captivated." He hums, stepping beside me while training his gaze on her frame as she takes a gulp from her flask. "I did not believe Commander Kirigaya's speculation of your affections at first."
"And now you do?"
"After you started exhibiting your rare kindness more openly with your people, I started to doubt myself. And after seeing the flush on your cheeks as she battles your army, I can now say with certainty you do hold her dear to your heart."
There is kindness in his eye but also some cautioning glint in it.
"You do not approve of her." I read from the line creasing between her brows.
"On the contrary. I believe she should be given formal training. To deprive your army of such a valuable asset would be foolish."
"She is a person. Do not speak of her as an object." I snarl. "If she is interested, only then she will join."
"Prior to your meeting with her, you would have agreed to my proposal." He chuckles and it grates on my skin. "I suppose she'll be good for you after all."
Heat blooms up my neck, face, and ears. Usually it is from anger, but at the moment, it is from ludicrous shame. From the smirk Master Shosei has, I must be as red as Kirigaya's scales.
"I do not need your acquiescence for my relation with her. I will convince my court in whatever way necessary."
Master Shosei huffs a breath; from the corner of my eye I see him cross his arms over his chest with a rigid guard, the midday light casting shadows across his scarred face.
"I would like to personally consult her before you engage in anything intimate. She did hail from my homeland."
His advice is pertinent. I know it would be unwise to not uncover her heritage if she were to become queen. Nonetheless, I had reassured her past means nothing as long as she is honest with herself and others.
If her past does not put the kingdom at unrest, I can have a stronger case with my people for joining with a non-magical foreigner.
"Very well. But at a later time." I watch her as she gets ready for the next match, this time three soldiers stand against her. "Give her more time to acquaint herself with our ways."
"Of course, your majesty." He bows stiffly. I wonder why he is so wary of her. "I shall take my leave."
I wave him off, my eyes following her every move, not paying attention to the receding footfalls behind me.
Because a sudden, terrible thought conjures in my mind: for her impeccable skill the only explanation is that she must've trained in Haniyasu's guard.
Except her loss in this match makes me think otherwise. Three swords encircle her neck, her smile contagious and devilish as she surrenders. I cannot hear her, but from the slump of her shoulders and her retirement into the castle, I can see the disappointment in every step.
I turn and hurry down the corridor closer to her quarters. I'll show her a technique that'll have her beat the trio with ease next time.
Maybe then she'll notice my affections as the people closest to me have.
***
Ayumi
The walk to school is soaking wet. I don't hate it per say. I just enjoy the snow more; the cold isn't what peeves me, just the dampness the rain brings.
I create a metal umbrella, letting it hover over me as I rush to school.
The school festival's craze stayed for days. I still get congratulations on my third place even if it was a whole week ago, many people saying they were impressed with my strength as a hero.
I did get some glares for destroying the stadium. I don't blame them to be honest. From the footage I saw, I'd be terrified too.
I need to figure out how to control that power. It's too strong, too unpredictable. I hope whichever hero I decide to intern with can help me with this struggle of mine.
When I reach the entrance of UA High, I meet Todoroki-kun's eyes. They seem familiar as though from Ayane's life. I don't know who he could be but I wonder all the same.
If he was the crown prince Todokoro, Ayane really messed up. That ball of aggression couldn't have been better than the aloof ice prince Todoroki-kun is in this life. (Who am I kidding?)
Class is extra special today. Because today we get to decide our hero names.
I know, I know. I'm just as excited as everyone in the room. But it's funny to see just how loud the class gets and then dies down with a single deadly glance from Aizawa Sensei. (Also glad he's got his bandages off.)
Before we start though, he shows us the offers we got from the heroes watching the Sports festival. I got the fourth highest offers, right behind Tokoyami-kun by twelve offers.
I guess some heroes thought my quirk was too unpredictable to help train.
Right after Aizawa Sensei explains the internships, Midnight Sensei joins our class, ready to help us decide our hero names. Apparently they can become our professional hero names so it's best to decide good ones from the get go.
It was all super exciting to decide, despite the pressure. Well, until she says, "Once you're ready, you'll present your names to the class."
I thought she was joking. Turns out she wasn't.
Now, I'm sure everyone has thought of versions for their hero code name; I have too. I'm just nervous my idea will get shot down the moment I give mine out. And I'm definitely not courageous enough to go first.
Thankfully, Aoyama-kun goes first.
"Here I go," He says, bringing up his whiteboard for us to see. "Shining Hero: I cannot stop twinkling!"
He really used a sentence for his hero name. Midnight Sensei changed it to "can't stop twinkling," which is apparently acceptable.
It honestly can't go any worse from there.
"Next is me!" Mina hops to the front. "Hero name, Alien Queen!"
Which Midnight Sensei shot down immediately.
I thought it was a cool idea, but I guess it isn't what a hero's code name should be like.
Tsu-chan raises her hand. "Then may I go next?"
Midnight gives the okay and then Tsu-chan heads to the front with a smile on her face.
"I've thought of this name since Middle School," She flips the board to show the class, "Rainy Season Hero: Froppy."
It's such a cute name; I couldn't help but join the chorus of students as we cheered her on.
Tsu-chan really is inspirational. Now I feel like I can decide a name that is worthy of Midnight Sensei's approval.
Everyone started filing up to share their names. Kirishima-kun as the Sturdy Hero: Red Riot, Kyoka-chan as Hearing Hero: Earphone Jack, Shoji-kun as Tentacle Hero: Tentacole, Sero-kun as Taping Hero: Cellophane, Ojiro-kun as Martial Arts Hero: Tailman, Sato-kun as the Sweets Hero: Sugarman, Mina- chan as Pinky, Kaminari-kun as Stun Gun hero: Chargebolt, Yaomomo-chan as the Everything Hero: Creati, Todoroki-kun as Shoto, Tokoyami-kun as the Jet-Black Hero: Tsukuyomi, Mineta-kun as Fresh- Picked Hero: Grape Juice, and Koda-kun as the Petting Hero: anime.
And then... Bakago goes up to the front. His face is as menacing as ever.
"King Explosion Murder!" He exclaims.
He's shot down. I can't help but laugh as Kirishima-kun makes fun of him and suggests Explosion Boy.
"Oi," He grumbles as he sits down behind me. "Ya still haven't gone. Can't come up with a good name huh?" He sneers.
"I wasn't sure if it was good enough until you went up." I snicker, "But I'm confident in mine now." "Then tell me, ya little shitty Tangerine. I bet ya it ain't as good as mine."
"Trust me, mine is way better."
"Tell me already!"
I laugh, ignoring him as Ochako tells the class hers is Uravity.
"You'll know with the rest of the class," I say as I get up, heading to the front.
"The hero name I thought of is..." I glance at Bakago, who's glaring even harder as I hide the board to my chest. And I flip it with a little hesitance. All these eyes on me really get on my nerves.
"Metallic Hero: Kanayama."
"Oh, I love it!" I sigh in relief. Midnight Sensei approved. I shuffle to my seat, smirking at Bakago as he vibrates.
"I won," I hum, "You better catch up, number oneee."
He grits his teeth. "I'll get a hero name that'll make yours look like dirt. Just ya wait!"
I stick out my tongue which seems to only anger him more; it makes him red in the face from it.
Iida-kun keeps his name as his hero code name; I was sure he'd choose Ingenium but I have a feeling that the attack his brother faced against the Hero killer may have deterred him from choosing it.
Midoriya-kun goes next, choosing his name as Deku. From the glare I feel from behind my head, I'm sure Bakago did not like the name as much. Serves him right; Deku-kun reclaiming the nickname is a stroke of genius to get on his nerves.
After our hero names were decided, we all received packets with the list of hero agencies that sent an offer to have us for the internship. For those who didn't have any personal requests, they were given a list of agencies that UA had contacts with to help provide for the internships. It's all really cool.
From the three hundred and forty eight offers I got, I know it'll take me a while to go through them. Well not as much as Todoroki-kun and Bakago. Their offers are over three thousand, I have no idea how they'll decide from all those options.
I hear in the background how everyone is choosing agencies based on what they need to improve. Like Ochako is looking into Gun Head martial arts to improve her hand-to-hand combat.
I need an agency that can help me improve my quirk.
Maybe a higher ranking hero who can give me advice on controlling my quirk.
I go through the list, glancing at the rankings of the heroes on the edge of the paper. I wish it was ordered based on ranking and not alphabetical order; it would've made this whole process so much easier.
Somehow, Bakago decides before I can, and gives in his request way earlier than majority of the class.
I huff and flip to the next page, where the B's finally start. And near the top of the page is Best Jeanist's offer. The number three hero of Japan.
It would be foolish to not choose him; he is after all, my favorite hero of all time. I proudly have three of his posters hung on the walls in my room. His quirk is extremely similar to mine too. Instead of metal, he control fibers.
Without delay, I fill out my request form for interning with Best Jeanist, barely able to contain my excitement as I do.
This internship is really going to be exciting.
To Be Instated Kousuke
The wind whistles in the throne room from the large terrace the dragons always perch on. The winter has gone warmer, the snow melting away every morning from how harsher the sun gets. It fuels my magic and strengthens both Ashida's and Kirigaya's scales.
We shall be ready if any attack from the Northern Kingdoms ensues in the following season.
From the information the scouts have given, it is obvious both nations are preparing for war. Either amongst themselves or they have finally found the courage to come face us after ridding of the trade routes we maintained for centuries.
I sit lazily on my throne, lay my hands in the dips on the arms and splay my legs into my cape. Today taxed me. The conversation with Master Shosei was daunting. The training that followed to help quell my unease and showcase my sentiments was equally cumbersome. She caught on the technique well enough.
I, however, was too distracted with her bosom pressed against my chest when she finally disarmed me. And the mortifying sound I let loose when she pinned me down is still haunting me.
She is strong. I could feel it in how her grip tightened around my wrists and how her knee dug in my sternum. She is also well taught. Her technique is distinct to Haniyasu's guard. Her poise and the way she chose to carry herself after her win oozed prestige.
To think I once thought of her to be a damsel in distress. I should've known that even the mightiest fall against mother nature--especially from ice and snow. That is how my grandfather fell from the throne; he grew ill from the cold when a rare blizzard swept through the land.
However, that was besides the point. All these details--her strength, her visage, her manner--only further prove Master Shosei's doubt to be reasonable.
I dig my nails into the hands of my throne. I am one to always follow my heart and my instinct. My thoughts follow along the journey I forge.
Yet, my thoughts have overcome above all else when it came to Ayane Ishiyama. What a pitiful position I have brought on to myself.
The knock against the throne room's gates echo, pulling me from my thoughts. My herald, Shinya Hidetaka enters with his simple black outfit and cape.
"Master Shosei Aiyama of the Royal Court." He announces, retreating back outside when I give him a wave of the hand and an agreeing nod.
Master Shosei walks in shortly, bowing and clearing his throat when I tell him to be at ease. "What is it?"
"Miss Ayane is trustworthy, your majesty. From the background check I've commenced it is apparent she faced similar challenges as I had."
"What challenges?"
He stands unmoving, near petrified at the question. I never knew the circumstances of his past before seeking refuge in our lands. The late queen, my mother, was the last person to know of his true identity in this kingdom and she was the one who granted him his position as my master.
One could say the secret of his true name and heritage died with her.
And I know that Ayane may have not told him her true name either; anyone starting fresh would hide their identity. There is a risk in keeping her so close to the royal court. I know.
Nonetheless, I trust my instinct when it comes to understanding people from all walks of life. She's more than just a dame running from home. She's a warrior fighting for her freedom, and a diplomat to survive in the politics of the palace. With how she dealt with the soldiers and one of the lord's outward distaste proved as much.
Everything she does hails from one motivation: to survive. And who am I to deny her the basic right to live?
"You do not have to answer." I say, watching how Master Shosei deflates visibly. "I understand I put you in a difficult position."
"Nothing of the sort, your majesty." He says with a bowed head. His eyes cannot seem to meet mine any longer.
I sigh, irritated at myself for creating distance amongst ourselves once again; even if it was unintentional.
"You are dismissed." I say with a wave of my hand, sinking back into my throne and huffing an exasperated breath.
The sun casts oranges in the room, glinting against the gold and the jewels of my crown sitting in its case on its lone pedestal.
"My liege." Zuko says as he walks in from his hidden quarters, bowing customarily with an apparent shake in his limbs I have gotten used to. The door is hidden behind a bookcase against the wall opposite to the terrace and the smell of peppermint floods out. "Shall I initiate the officiation of Dame Ishiyama within the royal guard?"
I grunt in agreement. But before he retreats back into his hole, I stand up and walk down from my throne. "Am I making the right decision?"
He gapes at my sudden vulnerability and the admittance of my doubts. He must've found my indecisiveness unlike myself. In all frankness, I do not feel like myself at the moment.
"Neither of us will ever know if this is the best course." He says with stern brows yet a soft smile. "But what is better than giving a refuge the benefit of doubt?"
I nod, relief bleeding into my bones from what he means.
The intention is not wrong. So we should continue with our course. "Go ahead. Make sure she can start by morrow's dawn."
"Of course."
He turns around, closing the bookcase behind him and taking the peppermint scent with it. I roll my shoulder, purposefully heading to the terrace while grabbing my leather riding belt and horn. After I clasp the metal cinch, I blow into the horn and relish in how the sound pierces over the gardens and lake.
When I hear the flap of wings and feel the blow of wind from my west, I run and launch myself off the terrace. And just as always, Kirigaya catches me mid-fall, zooming into the evening sky to check my lands one last time before I depart to my chambers for the night.
~~~
Katsuki
The worst ones are the scum who use the crowded space to their advantage. I nearly exploded one of the older creeps who was eyeing the middle school girl two seats from me. Nearly.
By the grace of whatever higher power is at work, the train stopped right before he could move any closer, and the girl got off without even crossing his path.
That was two stops ago.
I've been keeping my eye at him, watching where his eyes were leering.
To my surprise (and revolt) the next person he starts to stalk closer to is Tangerine (Stupid oblivious Yumi).
I hadn't realized she's still on the same train as I am; I thought she already got off to switch train stations and head to her internship.
Whatever, that doesn't matter. She's here now. And being preyed on by that freak.
It takes all my will power to not make a scene as he weaves himself between the field of corporate professionals. You'd be surprised to see how slippery the tubby man is.
When he is just three people away from Tangerine, I can't hold still any longer.
I stomp my way through, it is a blessing that the crowd is already moving in order to get on and off the train at this station, crossing the man and glaring at him while body shielding the stupid orange-headed metal witch. (With the glowing eyes and levitation powers she got during the festival, she's begging for witch to be her new nickname). The guy gets the idea, turning away immediately, shivering as he disappears within the crowd.
I don't realize that Tangerine's been having a silent anxiety attack in all this. Not until I see how her eyes are distantly staring off out the window and the grip of her hand is tight on her bicep.
Despite my better judgment, I tap her shoulder and dip down whisper in her ear. "You good, Carrot-head?"
The nickname seems to pull her out of her thoughts and she visibly relaxes. "How many times have I told you how much I despise that nickname?"
I can't help my scowl from deepening. "Sorry for askin', Carrot-head."
People in public transport can be real shit heads.
She sighs, tilting her head back and leaning it against my shoulder so her eyes can meet mine. "You're insufferable."
(By the sheer force of my stupidly strong will, I don't flush red and melt on the spot. Why the hell does she have so much power over my effin' traitorous heart?)
"Well if ya weren't spacin' out in public, I wouldn't have bothered you."
"Just cause I was watching the city blur doesn't mean I didn't notice the old geezer staring at me with a lecherous look."
I blink once in shock, twice in understanding, and thrice in acceptance. "Good to effin' know you have decent survival skills."
"Maybe more Aya than me."
My lungs quit functioning for a good minute.
What the hell?
"What?" She asks; I can hear the tease in her voice. "You in love with her or something?"
I glare at her, hoping it is strong enough to have her back down. Unfortunately, her smirk only grows bigger and she leans into me.
"I can feel your heart racing," She whispers.
If I hadn't come up with the best comeback, I would've definitely matched Shitty Hair's stupid hair.
"That's all more Kou than me." I breathe.
Seeing her mouth fall open and her eyes widen in shock are a treat. It doesn't last as long as I want though. Her lips press into a wistful smile, her irises shining like stars.
"I love our little secret." She confesses, "It makes every conversation that more special."
"Ya mean remembering the ancient times makes ya emotional?"
Finally the smile falls and she fixes her posture. The eyes we've got are getting on my nerves. "You really are insufferable."
I exhale sharply, trying to hold my tongue. It's common courtesy to not make disruptions on the train. All of Japan follows it. And my mom taught me enough manners to withhold my aggressions when necessary.
But goddammit. I really wanna shout my head off on this stupid Tangerine. The train stopping at my station is what helps me from doing so.
I don't bother telling her I'm getting off; I'm too angry to say anything at the moment. (To be honest, I don't know why I'm angry).
To my lovely honor, Tangerine gets off the train too.
Fine. Maybe she's got an internship in Tokyo too. It's a huge city.
I stomp my way out of the station and to Denim Head's agency. The walk isn't much but it's annoying when carrying my hero outfit and my bag filled with a few days worth of stuff.
You can't imagine the shitty horror I had when I heard Tangerine humming behind me the whole way.
"Want me to carry your stuff?" She offers when we are waiting for the light to go green. Her stuff is floating on a metal platform she made with her metal bracelets she always wears
"I can hold my weight," I grumble.
She hums again. Off tune and key. It's a shit show.
"Who you interning?" She asks when cars start to stop behind the pedestrian line.
The light turns green for us, the white walking man flashing.
"It's none of yer business," I stomp away. The agency was just a street away from here.
I hear her grumble under her breath behind me; my patience wearing thin by every passing second.
When she starts humming again, I feel a vein thumping at my temple.
"Freakin' ef off!" I snap, looking over my shoulder to glare daggers at her.
She doesn't seem to be paying attention to me though; she's too busy staring at the building beside us.
Best Jeanist Agency's entrance is stupid but simple. And I breathe a sigh of relief when I see it. Finally, I can get rid of the distracting thoughts (and feelings) I get when I'm near her.
But then she follows right behind me, walks through the door and into the main lobby. I can't seem to stop the groan from leaving my throat.
Turns out she's interning with Denim Head too.
So much for catching a break.
***
Ayane
My footsteps echo in the corridor in front of his private quarters as I pace back and forth. I still cannot believe the king is so naïve to have me in his royal guard.
Any royal knows inviting a foreigner in such a position is ill-advised. Some would say it is downright foolish.
The heavy oak doors creak open, a draft tangled with a whiff of earth and smoke burn up my nose.
"Your majesty." I curtsy, hesitantly meeting my eyes with his. They have started to glow brighter than before, the reds and merlots resembling that of burning embers.
He squints his eyes, trailing up and down my frame before stopping right at my gaze. A shiver goes down the middle of my back and I want to shrink within myself; his eyes are powerful--knowing. "Tell me your troubles."
"How did you know I was troubled?"
He raises a brow, shoulders tensing at my quick tone. I should take more care when speaking to him; he still knows nothing of how I was raised.
"The wrinkle between your brows gives you away." He points to them, his lips tilting softly upward at the belligerent scoff I exhale.
"Why did you instate me in the royal guard?"
"You have the talent for it."
From the way he trained me so vigorously just the day prior, I know he means it.
"That is besides the point." I say in frustration, "Having me in your ranks is dangerous-"
"What do you know of my ranks?" He interrupts, stepping forward with purpose. I only raise my chin higher.
"Nothing. However, I do know of the royal code all kingdoms follow. And it is foolish to have a foreigner in the royal guard with no knowledge of their herit-"
He turns his head away and eyes no longer scrutinizing but hiding beneath the fringe of blond spikes. A sudden realization occurs.
I gasp. He flinches.
"You looked into my past." He knows who I am.
His hand on the hilt of his dagger clenches harder; his knuckles turn ivory from it. "I know nothing of your past. A trusted man has vouched for you and that is the only way I was able to instate you with the court's approval."
"You must not instate me. I cannot tell you of my past." Not yet.
"I trust you will tell me if the kingdom were to ever be in danger from your presence. If your past holds no such weight, than my knowledge of your past can remain in the dark." He peers from the corner of his eye and somehow right into my soul. "You will be the protector of these lands and therefore these lands will now accept you as one of their own. This is your chance to integrate yourself within our society. Do not be so foolish to deny such an offer."
I am conflicted. His offer is perfect to know whether I could trust the king for helping save my kingdom. Yet, I feel it too disdainful to take advantage when I have other intentions than finding a new home.
So I step forward, his gaze and his scent burning in the space between us while the tinted light from the single stained windows cast oranges on the slopes of his bare chest and sparkle against his barrage of necklaces.
"What if I'm a spy?"
The wind blows, shadows distort his expression into something baleful, all forewarning of the peril to come. Much is obvious. Pretending to live a commoner's life is not meant for people such as us.
"If you were," He starts, turning and searching me before continuing, "you wouldn't be so opposed to the offer as you are."
"And if I am only playing a charade to be closer to you?" I breathe softly, my chest tightening in fear of what he'd say.
He takes the final step so he is within my space, bending his neck so his breath ghosts the skin of my ear. "Then I will make it so you never see my face nor these lands ever again."
His words are a promise branded by the tether between our eyes. He mentioned that he honors any newcomer as long as the alliance is forged with honesty. Nothing since our first meeting has been in honesty.
And now I know his punishment if he ever discovers my truths.
I cannot meet his eyes any longer and let them fall to the urn beneath the window.
"You are making a terrible mistake."
He huffs, "I suppose only time will tell if I have."
"Thank you."
"Do not thank me. Not yet." He whispers in my ear, bearing caution that he does not touch me.
And then, when he walks past me, his cape grazes my skin. All I can feel is the smoke in my throat and my heart falling into unease.
Scarlet Complexions Ayane
He told me to call him "Kousuke" whenever we were engaged with one another in private. He told me so, as I pinned him on the floor, in the middle of the courtyard. His breath was reaching the dip of my collarbone, and his voice was rumbling in a whisper. And his warmth, burning like a furnace, was what made me falter.
In that momentary hesitation, he flipped me on my back, ending the training drill, and walking away as though he hadn't made such advances.
And I was left with burning cheeks and ears. I am not sure if it was from embarrassment of losing, my flattery from his subtle acknowledgement, or simply from the heat emanating from his skin.
I should've noticed that his strength and power have increased as the frosted blanket no longer coats grass blades every morning. I should've also noticed that, with the scales of dragon shifters glowing lighter with every passing sun, his eyes were also starting to gleam brighter.
Just as they gleam brighter, at this moment, with him standing two strides away from me with his chin up in pride. And his question echoes in my mind.
I wish to show you something, if you will let me?
That vagueness of his query has me flabbergasted.
Like a fish, I open and close my mouth until my curiosity gets the better of me.
"Of course, your-" I swallow when his eyes narrow, "Kou- Kousuke."
He shudders, his teeth shining when he smiles widely. His hand encircles my wrist, his fingers a large bracelet resting around my pulse, as he drags me through the corridors of the first floor.
The colors of spring flutter outside each window we pass, and a rainbow shines in the sun resulting from the showers earlier that morn.
I do not make a sound as I am taken through the castle grounds. I do not notice any eyes on us either. Perhaps, my heart and mind is too loud for me to notice anything more than the man guiding me through his home.
Soon, we pass through the open doors of his throne room. Inside the room, on the wall beside them, is a ceiling-to-floor length portrait of a woman, in his likeness, wearing the crown that he keeps on display. From a glance of his softened features, I realize she must have been his mother, the previous monarch of these lands.
He lets go of my hand gently, pressing a brick within the small expanse of wall between the portrait and the doorframe until a click resounds. To my surprise, as the brick lifts back into place, the portrait swings open to reveal a dark alleyway with a curved archway throughout.
The air is colder, and the dust on the floors suggest no one has traveled through them in years. "Follow me," He says, my footsteps echoing after him.
The walls are bare save for the torches lit every few strides. They flicker with the draft trickling in, sweeping past his cape.
"What are these corridors?" I question after two more bends in the path. There hasn't been a fork, yet.
"They are the hidden paths that connect the entire castle grounds." His steps are faster and it forces me into a quicker pace just to keep up. The torches grow in number now, and the path widens.
"Who else knows of them?"
"These paths are only known to the royal family." He pauses, peering over his shoulder to meet my gaze. "And now you."
"Why-"
"I can share with whomever I deem worthy." he interrupts, turning back around, grabbing a torch from it's post and lighting a lantern above his head.
The bricks rumble beneath the lantern, and peel away to reveal a narrow, web-ridden, stair case.
He hands me the torch, his expression shadowed by his golden spikes, before grabbing another torch opposite from the wall he deprived before. Then he steps down, carefully; titian-stained bricks surround us from here.
"I have done nothing worthy of this." I whisper, following his lead once again. He does not respond, and continues down the path ahead.
I still do not understand what drives his trust in me. I have done nothing except be who I truly am; except for the borrowed name I hide behind.
This one lie, the name I pose with, is the only thing disparate from my true identity. Every other facet of who I am is a truth I stand by. All truths that may be annihilated the day he discovers who I am.
He could never trust a princess of a rivaling land. Never.
It is simply unheard of the dragonkin accepting the emerald mystics. We are true enemies, after all. For centuries, stories of our battles have been told. Dragons destroyed our mines for we gain strength in the darkness. And we were responsible for killing off their kin in revenge, burning mages at the stake until the royals were the only ones left to wield such power.
The helm, passed down from king to heir for the past seven rulings since the war of Shinrin River, stays hidden from my uncle. I concealed it the moment he gave it to me, somewhere I can reach even in these lands.
I can hide it in these paths when I have the time to fly up Dragon Back Range with Manami.
The staircase ends, leading to a twisting pathway that snakes into a circular, dome-like, room. Larger torches light the curved walls, their handles made of polished gold and resting on copper posts.
He clicks his torch on the empty pair of posts by the archway we entered from.
"If we are the only people who know of these paths," I start, placing mine on the other side of the arch, "then who lights all the torches along the walls."
"It is dragonfire." He explains, his voice echoing into the six other archways around us. "Lit centuries ago from the first dragon shifters in the royal family."
"You are related to Commander Kirigaya?"
"Quite distantly. The dragonblood diluted in my bloodline, and so we can no longer shift."
He says "we" when he is the last living member of his line.
"So that is why your strength increases with the sun."
He nods, turning towards me. His eyes glow brighter; must be from the dragonfire encircling him.
"Must make you quite hot-blooded then."
"Not as hot-blooded as you." He tilts his mouth, lips stretching to flash his teeth with a cunning grin. "Flushing in the cold darkness as you are now."
I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away. When I do, my eye catches the multitude of colored bricks on the floors, meshing into an image of a dragon curled into a rainbow nest. The colors separate, seven in total, and each single color trails to a different archway.
He must have realized my confusion and points to the path towards my left. "That leads northeast, ending at the garden shed near your flower beds."
I follow his finger and into the dim lit archway completely enshrouded in viridian painted walls and floor.
I recall the day he gave me the keys to the garden. Just a few suns ago. He'd warned me of befriending the cynical garden keeper; and how, until I don't gain his trust, I cannot touch the garden shed to get the supplies for tending to my newly grown flowerbeds; Oriko gave me seeds that are native to my lands.
I did manage to earn the frail man's trust, mending the tree that refused to bear fruit and heal the flowers refusing to bloom after the harsh winter. He called me a fine grower, a term used for natural gardeners in these lands.
The greens of the pathway remind me greatly of how the gardens are luscious and full. According to Kousuke, each color holds a significance of its own.
He explains then, how cerulean goes north, ending at the lake, left of the gardens; gold travels southeast, ending at the stables, right at the cusp of the citadel and the main gates; titian, the archway they just entered from, leads to the top of the northwest tower where the throne room sits; lilac leads in the library, at the southwest tower, and ends on the walls between the library and the porch the dragon shifters land on; indigo heads south, goes under the castle walls and rises back into the route tradesmen use.
"Always be careful to open a secret doorway when leaving the tunnels. We never want the royal court nor the royal staff to know of its presence."
He finally points to the final path. Crimson like his eyes and cape and the largest necklace around his neck; the same necklace his mother wore in her portrait. "Except with the crimson-stone. You may open it with as much flair as you desire.
"Why?" I smirk, taunting while leaning towards his warmth. "Is it your private quarters?" The question is genuine, the tone is humorous.
But he simply gazes into my eyes, letting his silence answer for me.
Then, he steps closer in my space. I can feel his molten heat radiate to me. "Would you like it to be?"
I openly gape at his snark, my cheeks and ears burning.
"Would you like it to be?" I breathe. "What would you like, Kou?"
He flares his nose, dipping lower, so his lips brush the tip of my ear. "You are dangerous." He drawls, "Too dangerous."
"Yet, you show me the hidden pathways of your castle grounds." "I've shown you more than mere pathways."
Tension thickens, and I have to swallow the liquid pooling in my mouth. "Not yet." I feel him smile before I see it.
"Not yet."
I'm too nervous.
~~~
Ayumi
Yesterday was an easy day at the agency. Bakago got his hair done and I was given a training regimen to help be more mindful of my quirk.
And even though Best Jeanist-san's pep talk on training my strength, to make sure I don't lose control in the field as I had in the sport's festival, was very reassuring, I can't help the involuntary shivers going down my spine. I don't know if it has to do with the anxiety for my exercises today, or from the dream I had last night.
I mean the amount of charisma Kousuke exudes is just unfair.
The way he lowers his voice, the way he leans in, the way his heat and breath burn Aya's skin.
God, he's a walking wet dream...
I shake my head as I walk down the hall into the agency.
I should probably stop thinking about that. Seeing Bakago (Katsuki) right after that sultry dream would be no help.
(Honestly, I don't think I can trust myself around him today. The fact that Best Jeanist-san has made my first training exercise of the day to do combat training alongside Katsuki is going to eat me alive.)
I just hope Bakago doesn't react in any different way because of Kousuke's influence. (Some deep and dark part of me also hopes that he does reflect Kousuke's actions.) Rolling my shoulders and taking one deep inhale, I trapeze inside the training gym.
Bakago (Stupidly handsome Katsuki) has his hair in spikes but his suit has a pair of jeans instead of the regular cargo pants.
(They bring out his waist more and somehow channel more of his inner sass outward. It's cute.) He glares at me when I try to hide my smile from his outfit change. But he doesn't say anything.
And soon his glare turns into a lingering gaze, his eyes trailing down my pair of dark sweats. He scoffs, grumbles something under his breath, and crosses his arms in defiance.
I wanted to say something. But I couldn't.
Not when I saw his ears reddening and his cheeks blushing despite hiding his eyes behind his bangs. Training is definitely going to be a disaster.
I know this is a terrible idea. I know.
***
Kousuke
But I cannot help but confess by deepest desires when she is so close, with no audience to disrupt, as it has inevitably occurred in every delicate moment we've shared.
The warm firelight brightens the curve of her cheeks, accentuates the plump of her lips, and makes her eyes more green than blue.
"You have become the bane of my existence," I say, bringing my hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
She shudders and her complexion is flushed as she gapes at me.
"How so, Kou?"
I now shudder. The shortening of my name is sweet when called from her.
I lean in, pausing and waiting, to gauge her reaction. If she shows hesitance, my integrity will force me to halt my advance with a veil over my eyes and an apology on my tongue.
She does not. In fact, her breath hotly expels on my skin, her irises eclipse with darkness, and she tilts her chin up. A challenge, it is. One she knows I can never back down from.
This, truly, is an abominable occurrence; if I proceed, I might regret it for the rest of my days. For if she rejects me, I will shrink with foolishness, and worse, if she betrays me after accepting me, I will never trust another soul again.
I brush my nose against hers, "How so?" I whisper, helplessly breathless. "Can you really not see what you do to me?"
I rest my hand behind her head as she hits her back to the brick wall. She gasps, her glistening lips parting.
"Why do you care for me so?"
Her question is not in appall, rather, it is in curiosity. I know from the tilt of her head and the way she melts against the grip of my hand on her waist.
"I do not know," I rest my forehead on her shoulder.
Her silence devours my soul, gnarls in my stomach, with trepidation.
Then she sighs; I can feel the way her breath curves with her smile, before I see it. And I cannot help the shiver crawling up my spine when she rakes her fingers from the base of my nape and up into my hair. She tugs at my locks there, a silent command to tether my eyes with hers.
Firelight flickers and her eyes glow. She licks her lips as her gaze flits between my eyes and to my lips. I realize later that I am doing the same, left eye, right eye, and then to her lips.
"May I?" I whisper, tangling my hand behind her head into her hair and tilting her back. "Yes," she breathes intensely, her shoulders rising and falling deeply, "Please."
We meet in the center, her on her toes and me catching her waist with my arm. Her hands continue to pull at my hair as I kiss her deeply. I wished to be gentle. I truly did.
But when she whimpers against my lips, I cannot help but press further, salvage more of her. She reciprocates equally, biting my bottom lip and pulling backward, until she tilts her face the other way, and then seals our lips again.
I am filled with her. Her earthy and jasmine hinted scent makes my head light; her taste, sweet yet sour, has me, involuntarily, melt; her touch, soft yet rough at the same time holds my heart and mind captive to her entirety.
As we part for air, my hand in her hair travels to her jaw, my thumb caressing across her cheekbone. Her breath, now sweeter, smokes against my wet lips, and she rests her forehead against mine.
My eyes remain in the darkness, only feeling her with every other sense I have. It is too overwhelming to witness her with bruised lips and a deep rouge down to her neck.
But then, curiosity gets the better of me. I peek an eye open. And her expression has my heart sink to my navel.
Her eyes are pinched closed, as her brows, tears on the corners of her eyes.
Had I pushed too far? Had I read her acceptance wrongly? Was it reluctance?
I am too ashamed to ask, too distraught to discover my folly.
So I tear away from her, leaving her touch, her warmth, her scent. I turn away, not bothering to hear her confusion in the way she calls the sweet name she calls me.
All I am left with is a shattered heart, and her taste lingering on my tongue.
Chapter Summary first kisses <3
No One Else Fits
Katsuki
Seeing stupid Tangerine (stupidly beautiful Yumi) every single day the past week is strangling me alive- tightening a noose around my neck.
Every time she walks past me and her shitty flower perfume lingers in the air, I feel the noose tighten. When she smiles, even if sarcastically, the noose tightens more.
If I hear her shitty laugh- feel her speeding pulse when we spar- notice how she stupidly hums when she's going over notes- see how her body faces me in the room, the lingering pink on her cheeks when I catch her staring at me- every time, the noose tightens.
It should be impossible to breathe at this point. These shitty feelings are no help. Yeah, I know. No point in denying the stupid fact of the universe.
Our souls, thanks to our shitty past lives, crave each other.
It's stupid. It's the effin' truth.
Back to the noose tightening. It's been continuously, torturously, tightening. And now, while we patrol down the road, I can't help but feel my incompetence at an all time high.
She's shown her strength in the spars; even if she hasn't beaten me, she's beaten plenty of Denim Head's extras (sidekicks). Just a few moments ago, she showed her affinity with handling little kids. Something I know I need to learn but can't help but find stupid.
I don't need to be kind to kids to beat the villains to kingdom come.
Denim Head has got the wrong idea of what type of hero I want to be.
I huff, clenching my fists while following the hero as he gives autographs left and right to fans. One thing I'm never doing as a hero is to provide fan service. What they see is what they get. I'm only a hero for the fights and the glory of becoming number one. Nothing else matters.
The fans start to flock like annoying pigeons, squawking their raise and squealing their heads off. It's a living nightmare.
I glance to my left, where Carrot Head (Yumi) should be. But I don't see her. She can take care of herself.
I know.
That doesn't mean I can't effin' check she isn't losin' her shit from the dense crowd.
She still hasn't told me why she's afraid of crowds. I want to ask her. Maybe I will when I find her.
No, I will ask her.
"Best Jeanist," I exclaim. "Imma look for Kanayama."
He nods before resuming his attention back to the crowd of young girls. It's stupid that heroes have to keep up appearances. Isn't winning enough?
I grunt while stomping backwards from the way we came. The crowd starts to disperse, and I see the bright orange her shitty hair undeniably is, near a flower shop.
Carrot Head (Yumi) is looking at a pot of bright yellow daffodils. They are blinding like the sun.
"Oi," I call out and she whips her hair as she turns to face me. She visibly grimaces and puts a hand on her hip. Sassy little shit. "The hell ya stayin' behind for?"
"Got distracted by the flowers." She tilted her head to point at them. "Aren't they pretty?"
"They're shitty." I grab her arm, "Now let's go."
She groans and some sadistic side of me finds it hilarious at how easily annoyed she gets.
Surprisingly, she follows quietly as we walk back to where Denim Head is. But as the crowd gets denser, I notice how her steps get more resistant, how she is starting to slightly fight against my grip.
"Tangerine-"
"Don't call me that-"
"Tangerine-" She groans again, "Why are ya fightin' me?"
"I'm not," She spits. "I just..."
"You hate crowds." I grunt, "Actually you're afraid of them-"
She freezes, rooting her feet where she stands.
I turn around with my pulse racing in my temple. She is wearing my patience very thin.
"Care to explain why you're afraid." It's a command. Not friendly or kind. I'm sick and tired of guessing.
"I don't owe you any explanation," She is deflecting. I can tell when she crosses her arms in front of her chest and looks away. I can tell when she can't meet my eyes.
"Fine," I gruff. "But ya havta deal with it. Our mentor is a popular one." I grab her arm pulling her behind me.
She follows, this time not fighting me but still has a frown plastered on her expression. And it's taking everything to not angrily snap.
It's fine that she doesn't trust me.
It's fine.
***
Ayane
Kousuke has ignored me since our kiss in his family's secret paths.
To say it has not hurt me, is not an exaggeration.
I have not seen his eyes since then. It is as though he cares not for me.
My heart is not only ripped out, but burned to ash by dragon flame. From the fleeting crimsons all around in the castle grounds and in the skies at sundown, I see mere imitations of what I had seen in his gaze within his secret paths.
That is until my eyes finally catch his.
He stands on the other side of the courtyard. He was discussing something with Kirigaya under his breath. His voice is quiet enough to question what he is saying, and was loud enough for others to understand the nonchalance in his tone. Kirigaya is turned away when he meets my eyes.
And when our eyes meet for a few seconds longer, he flinches, as though I've burned him, despite the distance. And after he flinches, he swivels away suddenly, stomping away into the corridor.
I follow him, my every step hitting the stone tiles with purpose.
I follow him through the corridors, through the trail leading to the gardens and through the metal gates. I follow him with the wind pushing my stride, with the petals coloring the distance between us in its perfumes.
I follow him as he turns into the maze of hedges; they are the paths that lead to various little hidden gardens.
"Why are you avoiding me so?" I accuse as he turns again.
He keeps his front forward, his stride widening at the sound of my voice. "Please stop." I nearly beg. I just wish to know his true intentions. "Kou!"
He halts in his spot. The white fur of his cape shudders with his heavy breaths. We've stopped at a dead end with brick walls erected on three sides. The trees' shadows cast cooler breezes here. The scent of fresh dirt and sweet tangerines fill the air. I'm sure the citrus orchard is nearby.
It must be a coincidence that we've reached the garden I've chosen to grow my flowerbed. "Keep your sound low." He snarls. "Anyone could hear you."
Oh, he is in for a rude awakening.
"It's your fault for allowing me to call you such."
His hair violently whips in the wind. His shoulders shake. "I suppose it is."
"Of course it is."
"Good."
"Splendid."
The silence is thick, viscous, tangible.
"Your flowers have started to bud." He says suddenly.
I cannot help the scoff that leaves my throat.
"I thought yours had too." I sneer. "I suppose I was wrong to assume so. You, Kousuke Bakugan, the king of Okuninushi, are a truly volatile, despicable, barbaric-"
He swivels around on his heel. I swallow my words and my thoughts. His eyes are fire, his breath is smoke, and his body is sinfully glowing. "You know nothing of who I am." He warns. "Nothing."
I clench my hands tightly, the dips of and hills of my knuckles painted white. "I know you show the world your vulgarity and bravery, all of it a charade, to hide your kindness and honor. I know you disdain cheaters, that you would kill them if your court wouldn't be disapproving of such measures.
"I know how battles bring out your genuine grin plastered on your face. You enjoy the freedom the skies give you, and value loyalty above all else. I know you pretend to despise Zuko when you care deeply for him. I know you like shades of green more than crimson, but you love auburn above all other colors. I know you love the way fires smell and how the warmth of them soothes the tension rippling in your bones."
My breath echoes in the delicate sweet wind of spring. He gapes at me with his fiery eyes. Gods, those eyes.
"I know you." I whisper. "More than you'd think." He clenches his jaw, the skin and bone bulging.
"You truly know nothing," He starts in a seethe. "When I am in battle, I seek your fighting grace. When I see the great lake from my quarters, I remember your gaze." He takes a step forward, and I take a step back. Not in fear, but in intrigue. "When the wind carries daffodils, I recall your perfume; my favorite scent since the morn I saw you shiver in that pit. When I hear your laughter, I can't help but look for you; it is the song my soul craves. All so I can see another glimpse of your smile. A smile that has never been for me."
I can feel my eyes burn and my lungs falter with emotion. He takes another step forward and my flank hits the left stone wall.
"You did get one thing right." He breathes, and I inhale it as if it were my last breath. "Auburn is my favorite color. But I didn't realize it was so. Not until I saw how your curls shine in the sun's embrace; that is when I decided that my favorite shade of auburn is that of the sky at sundown. The same color of your hair."
He has not only given me his heart, but he has torn it out of his chest and placed it in my care. He is trusting me with his soul and stripping away everything that hides his true self.
So I hold his likeness in my hands, feeling the prickle of his stubble in my palms.
"You haven't seen the smile I have for you."
He furrows his brows, his eyes, twin flames, searching my expression. And then he relaxes, his eyes peeling open and falling into my gaze; he does so when I smile at him.
"I couldn't let anyone see." I whisper. "I didn't want anyone else to."
His breath quivers. "No one else is allowed to," He sighs into me. "No one, except I."
"No one except you." I agree.
He leans in with his eyes pleading and his breath begging.
"My heart has joined with yours." He pants before kissing his lips against mine, harder. "No one else fits."
Another kiss, a tug of my lips with his teeth digging into them, and he hisses in the space between us with a smoke filled breath.
"No one else fits."
I sigh into him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You think it not the same for me?"
He halts, embracing me with his devastating and equally intoxicating gaze. I'd crumble if it were not for his strong arms holding me so close to him.
"You've ruined me," I whimper and his eyes grow dark with thin rings of blood-red. "You and your glowing eyes have made me a prisoner to my heart. No one else fits, you say?
"You've altered my heart, changed it forevermore." I shiver when he digs his fingers in the dip of my waist. "You've made it yours."
He devours my lips then, holding me close to him so our bosoms touch. I feel his heart thump out of his chest and beat with mine.
Despite the rush I feel, I know it is not fair for him to tell me all his truths and for me to hide mine. And even if I wish to share it with him now, I know he won't receive it well when he's just laid himself bare for me.
When I find the right moment, when he is content and calm, I'll tell him my truth. That I am Crown Princess Ayane Yamasaki, the heir and future queen of Haniyasu.
~~~
Ayumi
The knocks on the door are violent. I know who it is. It isn't rocket science to put two and two together. I sigh, putting my folded hero suit in its case.
The knocks come again. I groan. Impatience should be Bakago's middle name.
"Give me a second!"
A second passes.
"You're taken more than a second!" I hear him snarl through the door.
I'm slightly surprised at his restraint. I expected him to holler through the door, maybe even explode it off its hinges.
When he knocks it a third time, I use my quirk to unlock the door, swinging it open for him. I glare at him.
He, amazingly, watches me with a softened scowl on his face.
He stomps inside as I move my hero case near the dresser in front of my bed.
"We need to talk." He says. "About?"
He narrows his eyes, sitting at the foot of my bed and slapping the space next to him. He stares- more like glares daggers- until I sit next to him.
I hate how it reminds me of Kousuke's demeanor. "What is it?"
He sighs, crossing his arms and looking dead into my eyes; right into my soul. "I'm tired of guessin' why you're so scared of crowds."
I shrink away, looking down and letting my hair hide my expression in a curtain of orange. "I want to tell you."
"Why don't you?" His voice is too soft when I can't see him. Does his image change the way I perceive it? "You don't trust me?"
"No." I say immediately, lifting my chin. I catch the way his eyes widen, how his brows pinch in the middle as he searches my expression.
I want to say more. Tell him how I'm just not-
"You'll tell me when you're ready." He says it rather than asking it. Like it's a fact he knows and simply needs confirmation.
So I nod my head, pushing my bangs out of my face.
"Okay." He huffs, ruffling the back of his hair. "Effin' fine. Just don't take a century to figure out a way to tell me."
The silence drags. I hate it when that happens. It's hard to fill when the dream last night was so- no I can't think too much on that.
But even then, I'm left wondering. Is he thinking of their kiss? Of their confession? Is he thinking of how it felt? Is that what he means?
I can't ask him all that though.
"Does it feel the same?" I ask instead