Chapter 1

The Boy, Saved

Once upon a time.

Stories always began with those words. They preluded what would be some epic, harrowing tale or lighthearted adventure. Perhaps those words would open the narrative to a bittersweet romance. Or a tragic fairytale.

What happens then, when the fairytale has become hard to recall? The lines and plot therein, even harder to remember. Those memories…that place…

Some days, Midoriya remembers them with such vivid clarity it was like he was still there. Memories of standing underneath a dense canopy of trees as he looked up at a crystal blue sky that was not his own. Gone were the high-rises, the bustling city streets and overcrowded train stations. The crush of people as sharp elbows and tense shoulders jockeyed to get to their intended destinations. In that place, the sights, the sounds—even the air. It was like magic. Unforeseen magic that made the very tips of his fingers tingle. The world they called Neverland.

With each passing day, Midoriya can feel his memories slipping away from him. Every night, he would dream—wondrous dreams of the realm that hid beyond the Veil. But every morning, he would wake up, sit on his bed, and stare unblinking as—like a magician's trick, that precious dream conjured up in the unbroken pool of his subconscious would cease to exist. Never to be remembered again. Nowadays, the line that once blurred the two worlds—the world he'd been born in and the world they called theirs—has become more of a brick wall.

And yet, somehow…by some miracle, Midoriya could never bring himself to forget about him.

The Boy Lost in Time.

As a child, and even throughout his later years, Izuku Midoriya had been considered a loner by those around him. He was a sweet kid—polite, open, and honest—but he was strange. Perhaps they were put-off by his rambling tendencies…or his skittishness…or his overactive imagination. The reasons may have varied but regardless, he didn't have many friends.

He had his mother, however—a kind, gentle woman who loved him dearly. When he was older, Midoriya would also have his stepfather. The man was tall and gaunt—more akin to that of a skeleton, some would gossip in hushed tones—but he was just as gentle, perhaps even more so, than Inko was, and he too, came to love the little boy as his own.

Six-year-old Midoriya had been playing alone by the riverbank close to his childhood home when he first encountered the Boy. When he was younger, he'd been a flighty little thing. He never could sit still, and rarely stayed put where his mother told him to. Luckily for her, he was predictable, often ending up in the same places. The forested park that resided around the water called to him for as long as he could remember. He loved how green it was. How peaceful. It was there that he could hide, far from the stares and whispers of his neighbors. They pitied him—the boy whose father left not long after he was born.

Midoriya, in his childlike wonder and innocence, loved to play pretend. He would come up with fantastical stories as he weaved in and out of the thick brush, circling around tree trunks and hopping over errant rocks. The sun had been shining brightly that day, and the gradeschooler made-believe that its rays bounced off the blade of his plastic toy sword.

He pretended that he was a heroic knight duking it out against a monstrous dragon. The riverside melted away and became the ancient ruins of a once proud and mighty civilization, with him as the last of its kind. In his mind's eye, Midoriya pictured giant stone pillars and crumbling walls that he ducked behind in order to avoid the dragon's flaming breath. This dance continued for some time—Midoriya a blur, flitting about in the greenery and stifling giggles under his breath—before he saw his opening: a pause as the dragon reeled back from its continuous attacks. He struck.

Darting out from his hiding place, Midoriya ran towards the beast, sword pointed upwards. So focused was he on his fantasy that he hadn't seen the sharp rock that lay directly in his path, wedged deeply beneath the grass. He tripped, and suddenly, Midoriya went flying. Hitting the ground hard, the boy tumbled and rolled through the grass and down an incline before breaking out of the treeline and plunging straight into the river.

At the time, he hadn't known how to swim. Cold water quickly rushed to engulf him, and despite the relative shallowness of the river, the current was strong. It pulled the boy along its winding path, Midoriya trying desperately to keep himself afloat, stubby limbs flailing uselessly underneath him. He tried to keep his head up, but every time he took a breath, he swallowed another lungful of water. It hurt. His chest screamed. He couldn't even call for help.

Midoriya was drowning. He was going to die, and no one would know. He realized this as the current dragged him underwater, what little strength he had left seeping away. It was like time slowed. He could feel himself sinking, but the fall was gentle. Everything was blurry yet strangely bright beneath the water. And so cold. Midoriya wanted to close his eyes. Maybe the end would come sooner…

Suddenly, a shadow darted across his vision. It was shaped like a person. Before the boy could make sense of what was happening, the shadow reached into the water's depths and grabbed the collar of his shirt. It pulled hard.

Things happened fast after that. Midoriya was thrust out of the water and into the air. For one brief, weightless moment, he looked down and saw himself reflected on its surface—the only thing the gradeschooler could make out was the yellow of his All Might shirt and the red of another's—before the thing holding him let go and he flew, falling gracelessly onto the grass.

Midoriya gasped in pain. That landing hurt. An agonizing beat passed, and then another. The child wanted nothing more than to stay there curled up on the grass, but something inside him heaved—and suddenly he was on his knees, coughing up fresh water. He started crying then, tasting the salt of his tears as tremors wracked his small body. Midoriya was sopping wet, his insides ached, but somehow, he was alive.

"You're pathetic, you know that? Almost drowning in a river because you tripped on a fucking rock."

Midoriya jumped, startled. Looking over his shoulder and back down the riverbank, the six-year-old saw a hooded, male figure standing there. He sounded older than Midoriya, maybe a teenager. The figure was wiping a damp hand off on the faded red cloth of his hoodie before pulling the rolled-up sleeve down. As he stepped forward towards the paralyzed boy, Midoriya heard the faint crunch of rock and debris beneath his boots, and he lurched back instinctively in fear.

"Tch." The older boy noticed. Slowly, so as not to startle the gradeschooler further, the stranger reached for his hood with both hands and tugged it down. Midoriya's eyes widened.

He had pointy ears. Like the elves from his mom's favorite movies.

"Calm down, you brat. I'm not here to hurt you. Wasn't I the one that just saved your ass?"

The figure continued trudging up the bank, grumbling underneath his breath. He leaned down momentarily to swipe at something darkly colored at his feet. It was a leather coat. Midoriya hadn't noticed it earlier, too busy gawking at the other boy's appearance.

The older boy was handsome—albeit, in a roguish way. He seemed like the type the teenage girls around his block would fawn over. Now that his hood wasn't obscuring Midoriya's view, the child noted the stranger's messy blond locks and red eyes—a similar shade to his sweatshirt, but sharper. Brighter. And his ears…Midoriya wondered if they were real. A flicker of light caught his eye, and the child realized one of them was pierced.

The older male kept walking closer, and Midoriya didn't know what to do. He wasn't scared anymore—just confused. Who was this boy and where did he come from? How did he save him? He'd been swept up by the river's current and pulled under, yet Midoriya could see that the older boy was completely dry. Only mud from the riverbank clung to his worn, laced-up boots. The child remained where he was and watched as the youth dusted off his coat and donned it before reaching for something tucked underneath his belt. With a casual flick of his wrist, the stranger chucked it at Midoriya's feet. It was his toy sword.

"So, what do you say now? Ungrateful little shit."

Midoriya always had something to say. In fact, he often talked so much that people found it overwhelming. Right then, however, Midoriya's words were failing him.

"T-thank you, um…" Midoriya gulped. His throat hurt from all the river water he hacked up. The rest of him hurt more. "I'm sorry…I don't know your name."

"Of course, you don't, idiot. I haven't told you."

The older boy was standing in front of him now. He was tall—much taller than the six-year-old was. He also looked strong. Nothing like Midoriya's feeble, little kid self. He almost felt like running again, but something in the other boy's eyes made him pause. They were such an otherworldly red—like blood from a fresh cut. But they held no malice. Midoriya decided then that the older boy wasn't a bad guy. He looked more like those underground heroes from his comic books.

"The name's Katsuki. Katsuki Bakugou."

"K-Kat…suki…Ba-ku…go." Midoriya pouted, mulling the name over. His lips were starting to feel numb—he was wet, and cold, and tired—and the older boy's name was pretty, but it wasn't the easiest to pronounce.

"Your name's hard. Can I call you something else—"

"The hell? There's nothing hard about it!"

"—like Kat-chan!" Midoriya looked up at the adolescent and smiled, pleased with the nickname. He hoped the older boy would approve, but Bakugou just stared at him like he grew another limb.

"You're weird, kid."

"But—"

Before Midoriya could protest the other boy's comment further, Bakugou offered him his hand.

"Get up. You're gonna get sick if you sit there any longer."

He was right. Midoriya could feel a cold coming on. Taking Bakugou's hand, the six-year-old's thoughts flashed to his mother and how worried she would be. Once he was back on his feet, Midoriya swiped an arm across his face, wiping away the snot, tears, and dirt that stuck to him—paying no mind to Bakugou's look of disgust. He would need a shower and a change of clothes when he got home. More importantly, he needed to cobble together an explanation for everything that just happened.

Suddenly, the blond youth turned his back to him and began walking away, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. Midoriya shook himself from his thoughts and picked up his toy sword, gesturing with it for Bakugou to wait up before running after his rescuer.

"Um—how did you save me earlier?"

"Eh? Wasn't it obvious? I flew."

Midoriya nearly tripped over himself again. The older male's answer sounded ridiculous, but the gradeschooler had seen proof of the boy's abilities. He remembered being suspended in the air overtop the rushing water. He saw his own reflection as well as Bakugou's before he was thrown onto the riverbank. In his childlike mind, it all made sense.

"You flew? You sound just like a superhero! Do you have any other superpowers? Flying's super cool though—Oh! Do you know All Might? He's my fav—"

"Quiet, brat! Your yapping's giving me a headache."

Midoriya's mouth clamped shut. The older boy marched on ahead of him, and by the tense set of his shoulders, Midoriya could tell that he was getting annoyed. The child felt bad. He'd been hoping they could be friends.

"I'm sorry…I talk a lot…but I do have a name too, you know."

Bakugou scoffed, twisting around to glare at the smaller boy. "The fuck if I care what your name is."

"It's Izuku Midoriya!" The child chimed back proudly. The blond didn't intimidate him. "Also, you swear a lot."

Bakugou rolled his eyes, righting himself. The kid was as persistent as an itch but he was, admittedly, somewhat amusing. Only somewhat. Midoriya wasn't scared of him, either. He wasn't chasing him off with makeshift weapons or calling him a devil—'harbinger of doom' and the 'evillest of omens'. The child was rare. Bakugou slowed his pace down minutely, allowing the green-haired boy to catch up.

"Fine, Deku," the taller male teased. "Also, I'm not here to censor myself for your delicate baby ears, so get used to it."

"Kat-chan, that's not my name!"

"Stop calling me that!" Bakugou barked. "Don't you have someplace to get to—like a house?"

"I do!" Midoriya nodded. "It's just me and my mom though."

Bakugou stopped walking. He crossed his arms, peering down at the six-year-old. Midoriya had stopped abruptly as well, giving the older male beside him a confused look. He gazed at the gradeschooler like he was trying to figure something out. "Don't tell your mom what happened. Lie if you have to."

"But isn't it bad to tell lies?"

Bakugou groaned, tipping his head back. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"Grown-ups like your mom… they wouldn't understand." Red eyes dropped back down to stare intently at the younger of the two. "If you told her what you went through, she might freak out. If you keep trying to explain yourself, in the long run, you'd just end up in more trouble. Got that?"

Midoriya tried to make sense of what the other boy told him. It was like he spoke from experience. The six-year-old wanted to know more. He knew nothing about the enigmatic older male—was he even human? He clearly came from someplace else. How did he get his powers? Were there others like him? Despite Midoriya's mounting queries, something inside him believed Bakugou's warning. He could trust his word. He nodded.

"Keep what happened a secret and I'll come back around to answer more of your stupid questions."

Midoriya beamed. Maybe he still had a chance to make a new friend. "Okay, Kat-chan. I won't tell anyone."

Bakugou's eyes flicked towards the horizon. The sun was setting. Strokes of oranges and pinks tinged the sky surrounding the pair.

"Get going, Deku. Or you'll have more explaining to do."

Bakugou was right, again. Though Midoriya wished the opposite. It was odd that the child wanted to stay with someone he knew nothing of—yet who still saved his life. He owed Bakugou a great debt. Something significant had changed in the boy's life—one he could not yet comprehend—but deep down, he was preceptive enough to understand that he and Bakugou were connected.

For now though, his time was up.

"Thanks, Kat-chan." Midoriya would remember this day. He would remember him. "You're a really amazing person."

With a smile that touched his freckled cheeks and a sheepish wave, Midoriya turned towards the direction of his home and began running. He heard no other reply from the older male. He didn't expect one. The only time Midoriya chose to look back, Bakugou was already gone.

/

\

Midoriya would see the strange boy one other time during his childhood. He'd been entertaining himself at his usual spot by the riverbank when Bakugou emerged from the treeline, silent as the breeze. Midoriya had been so excited. Nearly a year had passed since the pair's first meeting. Fall had frozen into winter, thawing once more into spring. By that point, he had started taking swimming lessons and became quite proficient at the sport—a fact he proudly shared with his new friend.

"When you saved me before, I'd been playing pretend. I was fighting a dragon but I wasn't paying attention, so I tripped and fell."

"Dragons don't exist, stupid. No wonder you ended up in the drink."

Bakugou sat cross-legged in the shade by his younger counterpart. It was hot out that day, yet the older boy wore the same clothes he had when they first met: a faded red hoodie underneath a leather jacket, dark pants shoved haphazardly into worn boots. He looked comfy enough—normal enough, despite the ears—but something about the youth felt distinctly out of place.

"Besides, there are worst things out there than dragons."

Midoriya perked up at the statement, his interest peaked. What could be scarier than dragons? Maybe bad guys? Had Bakugou fought bad guys?

"Kacchan…" Midoriya started. His nickname for the boy had evolved since that faithful day. It fell past his lips more naturally—as if he'd already said it a hundred times. "Where are you from?"

Bakugou didn't reply. He continued staring out at nothing in particular, and Midoriya questioned in his mind whether the male's pointy ears actually worked the way they were supposed to.

"Neverland. I come from Neverland."

"Neverland?" Midoriya tilted his head curiously, wracking his brain for places that sounded similar. Nothing came up. "Where's that?"

"It's far from here. Far enough that pint-sized dweebs like you can't get to it."

"Kacchan, you're so mean!" Midoriya whined. The older boy grinned wickedly. Leaning over, Bakugou ruffled the smaller youth's mop of hair, messing it up while the other attempted to bat his hand away. He got to his feet.

"I was kidding, Deku. Maybe one day, when you're older, I can take you there."

Midoriya's eyes brightened. He looked up eagerly at his once-saviour. "Really, Kacchan? Promise?"

"I don't make promises, brat. Just wait for me till I get back."

"Wha—You're leaving already?"

Like an echo of their first meeting, the older boy pivoted on his heel and began walking away from Midoriya and into the forest. The younger of the two almost got up to follow the blond, but he paused.

Midoriya wouldn't voice it out, but he didn't want to leave the other boy's side. The six-year-old didn't have many people to talk to—let alone play with. It had been him and his mom for as long as he could remember. He was content with the life he had. But then out of nowhere, this mysterious, elven boy swooped in to save him from nearly drowning, offering him a chance at adventure when he was older. How could the child let that go?

No…

Now was not the time.

Midoriya would have to stay put for the time being. He watched silently as Bakugou's tall form grew farther away, eventually melting into the greenery. A pang of sadness unfurled within him. The child vowed to himself that when he was older, he would catch up to the boy. He would catch up and remain close. And together, the pair would journey to Neverland.

Midoriya stood, spine straight and small fists curled tightly at his side. He sniffled, willing back the tears that began to blur his vision. Bakugou was long gone but he shouted as loudly as he could into the wind, hoping that his message would be carried along with it.

"Okay, Kacchan, I will! I'll wait for you!"

/

\

If Midoriya hadn't sworn to wait for the boy from another realm, their meetings could have later been chalked up to coincidence and the fanciful imaginings of a lonely child. He could have grown up, forgotten about the random encounters, and made something of himself in the only world he had ever known.

But Midoriya hadn't. He waited. And waited. And waited.

He waited eight years before meeting Bakugou again. And at a time he needed him most.

On the rooftop of his middle school.

Author's Note: Ah, back to my old stomping ground. I've been lurking around this website since I was twelve, but it's about time I posted something as well, eh?

All of my work is on AO3 (my main account, under the same name), but I've decided to crosspost this story here because the bkdk fandom's become so saturated with fics over on that side that this story's gotten almost no traction. It's been quite discouraging.

I'm hoping this very niche idea of mine finds its audience here.

I greatly appreciate whatever support you guys give me, so please let me know what you think!