You words for the day:
Shadowsinger: Magical state. Think a Fae in-tune with the shadows. The shadows can move them, transport them ( as you will read), and even relay information if I understand correctly
Courts: Think regions of control. This is less needed in this, but think of Courts as you would states, or counties. They're kind of all tied together into one "nation" if you will, but independently ruled or governed, and with various magical differences. (Seasonal Courts are always in that season. Solar [Night, Day, Dawn] have regular solar cycles. )
What Have You Fought For?
He truly shouldn't be surprised.
In the two hundred years that Izuku has known the heir to the Autumn Court, there hasn't been a week that he hasn't internally cringed at Shouto's lack of decorum or his utter disregard for standard social graces.
And considering he was locked in the bottom of the oldest library in the Night Court to serve as company for the embodiment of fear itself for the first seventy-five years of his life, that is saying something.
At least Bryaxis taught him social standards.
Which somehow managed to make a creature that had been alive since the making of the Cauldron, and who has slaughtered more people than Izuku will ever meet in his lifetime, more social and civil than the current High Lord of the Autumn Court.
That doesn't necessarily excuse Shouto from calling him while he's in the middle of trying to get a date.
It does, however, guarantee that Izuku isn't going to leave him high and dry since the idiot introduced himself to his mate without getting to know her beyond "She's got very pretty eyes."
So does his favorite barista; that doesn't mean he's going to come out and tell her, 'Hey, I think you're extremely attractive and I would be interested in knowing if you want to associate with a bastard Illyrian shadowsinger who was chased out of his own court. I can't guarantee you riches, an estate, or even a noble name, but I can tell you I will bend and break and bleed for you and that not even the Cauldron itself could keep me from protecting you."
He has that much tact.
That and Uncle Az would gut him if he ever was that forward. Assuming that Uncle Az visited him in the next fifty years. It is hard to pin down any of the infrequent visitors to the shadowy manor that Izuku has claimed as his unofficial home. He isn't entirely sure it is his home, considering it was more abandoned than bought, but no one else seems inclined to take it, and none of the people that flit in and out seem to care that he's taken up a semi-permanent residence there.
His housing situation could wait until after he solved Shouto's third century crisis.
He twists through the air, leaving his thoughts and inner turmoil behind him as he sweeps through the sky, feeling for the updrafts that will take him higher. Illyrians don't typically visit the Summer Court, but that has more to do with the heat and their personal preference to cold weather than it does aversion to the ruling Court.
Izuku himself likes the warmth. He spent centuries being cold.
Now he treasures the suffocating warmth, fighting off the persistent chill that seems to linger in his veins. He values the burning heat of the sun as it radiates through the leather of his jacket, soaks into his back, and suns his wings. If he could spend all of his time soaking in the sun, he would, but he knows that the shadows that curl around his flesh like the dark too much to allow him that luxury.
And he isn't cruel enough to deny their whispered needs.
Izuku banks towards the cloud cover, rising up a few hundred feet until he's masked in the dark clouds that have been rolling into Summer Court all morning. Cold becomes a part of his being once more, chasing away the fleeting warmth of that sweet mortal girl's smile that lingers in his mind. Shadows creep further up his face, curling around his eyes as he seeks the darkest part of the cloud.
He isn't as good as Uncle Az was, but this remains the fastest way he can travel from one place to another given he isn't a High Fae. Shadow travel isn't the same, and it isn't quite as fast, but it still gets him where he needs to go.
The shadow he appears out of is a familiar one, and he slides out from the clocktower gazing down into the college town Shouto stops by every now and then. It's familiar for a plethora of reasons.
Primarily because while traveling, this is where Shouto claimed he saw the most beautiful female that must be his mate. His only reason for claiming it at the time had been her scent called to his soul. Izuku had replied that he had been reading too much old poetry. Now he wonders if maybe Shouto had been right.
He consults his cell for the address, mentally mapping where in the city it would put this 'Yaoyorozu' female. He isn't entirely sure if that name should mean something to him or not, but he files it away for later. If he's careful about it, then his shadows might tell him something. If not, then it wouldn't take much time to do some more focused digging to unearth information.
He pushes off from the clocktower, senses spreading out across the city. Listening through the shadows is different from using his ears, but he still feels, senses, and hears it all. The thump of someone's heart, the inhale-exhale as someone goes running in a street below, the whisper of secrets and promises that no one ever keeps.
He twists in the air, tucking his wings in tight as he dives down into the street. He plummets, feeling the air whip and whirl around him, dragging just a little on the tips of his wings. He flares them at the last moment, close enough that he can feel the heat of the asphalt and so close to the accent trees lining the path that his wings ghost over the foliage as he rises back up and shoots down the street in search of the apartment he'd been given. It doesn't take him more than a few minutes, and he chooses to land on the ground floor and walk up to the third story instead of landing on the railing and knocking on the door. He felt like the least this female deserved was a heads up that someone was coming, and his boots on the wooden steps would surely be loud enough that her Fae senses would hear him.
By the time he reaches the apartment address Shouto texted him, the door is already shaking before suddenly it cracks open. And he meets her.
The apparent mate of his best friend is a black haired female with blazing onyx eyes who opens her door with a scowl on her lips.
"Why are you here and how did you find me?" She demands.
Izuku holds up his phone. "Shouto and because Shouto texted me the address."
She snatches his phone out of his hand, and before he can protest or advise her otherwise, she dials the contact and presses the phone to her ear.
Her first words when it connects are, "What kind of idiot tells someone they're your mate immediately! I have exams in three weeks! And how did you get my address!?"
Izuku takes a step back, pursing his lips as the female storms into her apartment and slams the door shut behind him.
"Guess that means I'm not getting my phone back…" He mutters, fanning out his wings and setting them over the railing to sun.
The door opens abruptly, and he thinks it's a sign she's hung up when she suddenly pulls the phone away from her mouth and says, "I'll give you your phone back when your friend figures out what etiquette is."
Izuku nods, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging. "I did the best I could, but I've only had the last hundred and fifty years to break the century of isolation his father put him through."
She frowns at him, considering that before bringing the phone back up to her lips. Izuku almost thinks he'll have to wait outside until she strides back into her apartment with the door open, giving him a curious look. When he doesn't move, she beckons him in, as if she can't believe he would think she would be rude enough to not let him in.
"What do you mean you knew I was your mate ten years ago?" She demands, gesturing with one hand to the couch as she strolls into a kitchenette and starts making tea.
"We stopped by this campus a couple years ago and Shouto saw you through a window studying. He swears you locked eyes and that's when he knew," Izuku supplies.
She hums, and Izuku does his best to ignore the conversation to give them a hint of privacy.
A cat joins him shortly, crawling up into his lap and curling up there. He hesitates, but a moment later there's a steaming cup of tea deposited in his hand. He shrugs, listening to Yaoyorozu's rising voice as she paces her apartment and chatters into his phone while he pets her cat.
He doesn't have anywhere else he needs to be until later this evening, when he's supposed to escort Shouto to an event. Which translates to him making sure they have at least a little fun under High Lord Todoroki's ever so stern watch. He wasn't quite sure what the event was, but it never made a difference considering all High Lord Todoroki wanted was to show Shouto off, maybe even flaunt the connection he has to an Illyrian warrior. After that, they could make their escape, maybe skip off to a local café or something.
The cat meows, apparently annoyed that Izuku has stopped stretching its head. He resumes, and the cat meows its appreciation, rolling around in his lap to present the underside of his chin.
"No! I have exams! I can't take three weeks to visit you in Autumn Court!"
Izuku flexes his wings, curling them around himself and sheltering the small cat in a den of shadows. A small flex of magic has a pair of shadowy hands form from the darkness, rubbing the cat's belly and taking the place of Izuku's fingers to scratch its chin. The cat starts purring in his lap, and he stretches his arms a little, peering back as Yaoyorozu stops abruptly behind him, her cheeks flushed as she pulls the phone from her face and stares at it in shock.
"Keep in mind he's a bit socially stunted. I'm his only friend," Izuku puts in softly.
Yaoyorozu glances at him, "Who are your friends then?"
"An ancient deity that lives in an abandoned library below an old Night Court manor and then, like, nine people that insist I call them Aunt or Uncle." In three hundred years Izuku hasn't figured out a better way to introduce that premise.
Yaoyorozu blinks, her frown growing before shaking her head, combing her fingers through her hair and putting the phone back to her ear. She starts pacing again a moment later, huffing lightly into the phone.
"Coffee?" She pauses again, and Izuku can see the mental math going through her mind as she seems to recall her agenda. "What about Thursday?"
There seems to be some tenuous agreement made, and Yaoyorozu ends the call, staring at the phone for a moment before walking it back over to him.
"Izuku Midoriya, appointed escort and bodyguard to Shouto Todoroki," he formally introduces himself to her as he pulls back his wings.
"Momo Yaoyorozu," she clips back, glancing down at the cat in Izuku's lap. She mouths 'traitor' at the feline, and Izuku can't stop the small grin that slides across his lips.
She walks around her couch, vanishing for a moment only to return with a steaming cup of tea. She paces, lost in thought for a moment before she asks, "why is an Illyrian warrior associated with Autumn Court?"
Izuku shrugs. "It's a little complicated, but long story short is that after I finished my trials, the other camps rejected me."
"Why?" She demands.
He gives her a wolfish grin. "Too many casualties."
She doesn't shy away from his expression, and instead seems to reevaluate him. He knows what she sees, knows how un-Illyrian he looks when he is compared to the rest of his kind. He watches her assess him, onyx eyes combing him as if seeking what edge his small frame afforded him in the Blood Rite that weeded out the weaklings from the warriors.
"I'm a shadowsinger," he informs her.
She frowns, and at her confused glance he relaxes his grip on his power. The shadows are eager to snake out, permeating the air around him and curling around his ears. They whisper excitedly about the gossip from next door, how the neighbor was already trying to figure out what an Illyrian was doing in the neighborhood. The landlady has the phone near her, her finger over the speed dial for the law enforcement. The person four doors down just ordered Lo Mein.
Momo's gaze remains fixed on him, her teeth worrying at her lower lip before she takes a deep breath. "I suppose if you're my mate's best friend, I'll have to get used to you."
Izuku hums, smiling as he removes the cat from his lap and stands. The feline meows its annoyance, and eagerly jumps from his arms into Momo's as he picks up his empty tea and carries the cup to the sink.
"Is there anything I need to know about Shouto?" She asks as he turns on the hot water and picks up a sponge.
"Shouto has an unhealthy obsession with soba," Izuku offers, "but if you're asking me to give you a character assessment on my best friend and any insight on your mate, then I think you should do that yourself. I might not lie but…" He hesitates, pursing his lips. "I'm biased."
"Biased how?"
Inquisitive. Izuku huffs as he cleans out the cup and rinses the soap suds off it. "My past isn't tea talk, but what I can tell you is that when I had nothing and no one, Shouto was willing to step in and give me the opportunity to be his friend. He made sure that I didn't get cast aside again."
"I find it hard to believe that someone as powerful as you would be cast aside."
"Then you don't know how prejudice and petty Illyrian war camps can be when the runt of the litter comes back and slaughters the war camp that killed his mother."
Momo clicks her tongue, considering that as Izuku picks up a hand towel and dries the cup. He sets it on the counter quietly, then turns to face her.
"You killed them?" She clarifies.
"All of them," Izuku assures, "I killed the warriors that beat her. I killed the females that mocked her and cast her out to starve and die in the cold. I killed the children that taunted her and stole from her. I killed the elder that condemned her. And when the snow had thawed and washed away their blood and I entered the Blood Rite, they did their best to get revenge for it."
"And yet here you are," Momo muses, frowning lightly as she considers him. He heads to the door, his errand done and his mood souring as he calculates how he'll tell Shouto about this conversation.
It seems though that there is an interesting fire that burns in Momo Yaoyorozu's veins though, as she steps in front of the door to block his exit.
"You killed them then. What would you kill for now?" She demands.
"My friends, those I call my family, and those that I love," he replies.
"And for yourself?"
Izuku frowns, considering it for a moment before replying, "I am a bastard child, whose father didn't love him and his mother was so unwelcome by the tribe that once they killed her, they flew me to the most isolated manor they could find and dropped me on the doorstep. I am not worth killing over. What I have, what money I have gained or what pride I have cobbled together or what reputation I have garnered isn't worth the cost of a life."
He grabs the door handle, twisting it open only for Momo to slam it shut, fixing him with a pointed look.
"But for your friends, you would?"
He doesn't have to think about the answer. "For my friends, I would turn rivers red with blood and cover fields in corpses. If it required going to war with a nation, then I would do so without question. I have little in this world that I would call precious, but the friends that I do have… I would rip the Cauldron in two to keep them safe."
It's a terrifying answer.
He knows because when High Lord Todoroki asked him what he would do to protect his son, the man had to leave the room. He knows because when Shouto himself asked what Izuku would do to protect him, he had immediately made Izuku promise never to end a life if he didn't have to.
But Momo Yaoyorozu does not blanch in the face of Izuku's promise. She considers it with pursed lips and thoughtful eyes. She considers him with a contemplative look and a plotting expression that he has seen mirrored in purple eyes on a male that made the ground tremble where he walked.
He wonders if he should tell Uncle Rhys that there may be a female that could finally match his wits.
"That scares most people," he finally says, when the silence stretches for a beat too long and he isn't sure if he is waiting for her to run or for him to have to explain himself.
To explain why he treasures his friends and family so much and why he would be willing to go to such extreme lengths to protect them.
"Most people probably don't realize that you say that with love and not malice," Momo responds with a small smile, stepping away from the door. "Most people probably don't know the tells that people have, haven't studied body language enough to know that you aren't a murderer but someone who is desperate to protect the little family that he has found."
Izuku cocks an eyebrow at her.
"And here I thought I was well adjusted."
She laughs, and Izuku smiles despite his best efforts to remain stonefaced. She doesn't shy away from him as she steps up, offering her hand.
"I hope that you will be able to consider me a friend then. It would be an honor to know that I am worthy of such a title."
Izuku chuckles, taking her hand and shaking it. His bones quake in his hand, trembling as she squeezes it tight. She's strong, even for a Fae.
"If you are indeed my friend's mate, then rest assured I would cleave continents in half in order to keep you safe. If only to stop him from ripping the world asunder to make you smile," Izuku promises her.
Momo chuckles, perhaps touched that he would make such a dramatic statement at their first meeting. She does not yet know how much Shouto's friendship means to Izuku though. She does not yet know that she will be stealing away his best friend and the only person that gave him pause not because of his power but because of his thoughts.
He wonders if the mating bond is real, or just Shouto falling in love with this intelligent and principled female. He supposes that he could understand Shouto falling in love; even after their short interaction, Izuku finds that he likes her. She's witty and sharp, she cuts to the chase, and there is no hedging around topics with her.
But his heart is set on another, a gentle brown-haired girl whose laughter sounds like starlight trickling through stained glass and whose smile is the sun to his melancholy darkness.