AN: This chapter is a bit slow as I needed to do a bit more world building, but I tried to make up for it by adding a little bit of tough fluff between Katsuki and Shouto. The story will not stay this slow paced; I promise.

I have a lot of work and travel coming up over the next few weeks, so I may not be able to update every week, but I'm going to try.

2: Power in a Name

"I brought the clay, ribbit."

Despite expecting the visit, Ochako jumped slightly, looking up from her place on the floor of her cottage. A slight form stood in the doorway, long, wet hair clinging to her naked body like a cloak. Moss decorated her head and shoulders, and she held an earthen clay pot in her hands.

Ochako smiled slightly, beckoning her in. "Thank you, Tsuyu. What may I give in return?"

The spirit crossed into the cottage, placing the pot down beside the witch before looking at the scene in front of her. Atop a makeshift bed of blankets, furs, and pillows, lay a sleeping human with dark messy hair that was wet and tangled. Several puncture wounds were scattered over his body, primarily on his right side. He was well muscled, with freckles decorating his neck and shoulders, and scars of various sizes marring his flesh. He was naked, except for a towel covering his groin.

Ochako sat before him on her knees. She had discarded her crimson cloak and rolled up the sleeves of her brown and gold dress. Steam billowed from a bucket of water beside her, and scattered about her were several jars of salve, fresh bandages, and a few spell books.

The spirit tilted her head before responding simply, "It is a gift."

The witch hummed in response, inspecting the medicinal clay. "I am not the intended recipient. Are you sure?"

Tsuyu tilted her head curiously, large eyes staring down at the woman sitting before her. "You claimed ownership. Does that not mean you bound him? Is he not yours?"

Ochako's lips parted, glancing down at the injured young man in front of her. "Oh…I meant…" she sighed. "No, I did not bind him to me. That requires consent, which he cannot give in this state. He is… here as my guest, instead. I think regardless of who or what he is, I can grant him that."

The spirit hopped up onto the stack of firewood beside them and peered down at him, her long hair almost brushing his nose. "I see." She pondered for a moment, before nodding. "It is still a gift, then. As he is your guest, ribbit."

The witch smiled softly and began to dress the wounds. "Thank you, Tsuyu."

XX

The Yuuei Castle was nestled in the heart of the kingdom. It rested against the backdrop of the Heroic Mountains and with the capital city of Ultra sprawling at its front steps. The castle itself was an architectural wonder, assembled with weathered black stone that soaked in sunlight and red brick that looked on fire in the setting sun. It was the pride of the kingdom and had been occupied for several generations by the Todoroki Royal Family, who were known for their uniquely cultivated fire magic.

As the Captain of the Royal Guard and a member of House Bakugou, Katsuki found himself in the castle more often than your average person. Because of this, no one paid him any mind, letting him generally come and go as he pleased.

After the battle with the Nomu, Katsuki had left his lieutenant in charge of the aftermath so that he could bring the details of what had happened to the king. He now stood in the throne room before King Enji, a large man with broad shoulders and crimson hair. Beside him stood his daughter, Fuyumi, and his youngest son, Shouto.

The Dragon of Yuuei spoke to his audience about the events that had occurred, watching His Majesty's reaction through the many torches lining the walls. They flickered angrily at the recount of the Nomu's attacks, and it was only at the end of the story did the flames settle. King Enji took a deep, steadying breath, and the fire seemed to breathe with him.

"I have never heard of Nomu attacking during the day. The sunlight is said to decay their flesh." Enji's voice rumbled through the room, bringing a heat with it like a warm hearth.

Bakugou's expression was grave as he glanced back towards the tall windows behind him, showing the dark, cloudy sky. "It was the biggest Nomu we've ever seen, and it's been dark skies all day. Might have developed some resistance and the weather was just right."

The King frowned, pressing his fingers together. "This does not bode well at all. What are our losses?"

Red eyes turned back to settle on the King. "No one died. Sixteen civilians were injured and ten soldiers. They're all being treated by the medics at the temple."

At that, King Enji closed his eyes, muttering a silent prayer of thanks under his breath. "I am… relieved. What of our own monster?"

The Captain inclined his head ever so slightly. "It retreated after the Nomu fell and made no attack on any of us. I made the decision to prioritize our people over pursuit of the monster since it fled."

The King considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Is there anything else?"

Katsuki paused, thinking over the events. He frowned. "One other thing. The Nomu spoke."

The room was quiet. The two royal siblings exchanged looks before Enji pressed a hand over his mouth, his expression perturbed. After several seconds he found his voice. Quietly, he ordered, "Elaborate."

The young Captain recalled the words, his red eyes narrowing. "It kept saying the word 'relic'. That was it. 'Relic. Give relic.'"

The King frowned, pressing a hand to his chin in thought. "...I see."

Fuyumi glanced at the King. "Does that… mean anything, Father?"

"I…no, I'm not sure, yet. That is all it said?"

Bakugou nodded tersely, though his eyes fell to the young man sitting beside his father, staring at him intently.

Enji nodded. "Very well. Thank you for your hard work, Captain. You're dismissed."

The blond bowed deeply then took his leave, exiting the throne room and down the main hall. It was only after he ventured off towards the dining hall did he hear footsteps approaching. Lifting his brow, he stopped, but did not turn to see who was approaching. He didn't need to.

As the Prince stepped up beside him, he began walking again, and they both fell into the same pace. A quietness stretched between them before Bakugou turned his head slightly, eyes falling on the other man who stood just a couple inches taller. Mismatched eyes met his gaze through the veil of two-toned bangs before he looked back ahead.

"You have more to say." Shouto spoke quietly, mindful of who might be listening.

Katsuki grunted, a muscle in his cheek twitching. "Just want a quiet place to eat."

"I have just requested some tea and snacks to be delivered to my room. Join me." Much like his voice, his expression did not change.

The captain looked over at him, sneering ever so slightly. "Is that an order, your Majesty?"

Shouto's eyes cut back over to him, and the faintest of smiles touched his lips. "It is."

XX

It always somehow impressed Shouto that Katsuki could be explosive in so many different ways but always seemed to find the grace and dignity to properly hold a teacup.

It was also kind of comical, not that he would ever say it. After all, it was not every day one got to see the battle-hardened Dragon of Yuuei sitting on a set of embroidered cushions in full armor, cradling a porcelain teacup in his hands with all the dignity of a noble. Or at least, it would have been dignified if he was sitting properly instead of like they were at a campfire. Shouto hid a smile behind his own cup, taking a sip of the rich black tea.

After several moments of silence, Katsuki took a sip as well, sampling the flavor. He squinted up at the ceiling thoughtfully before muttering, "It's decent enough. Rich base. Not too bitter. Kind of spicy."

The other man hummed in response, feeling the steam brush against his lips. "I chose it for that profile."

The Captain snorted, looking away. After a few seconds, he begrudgingly admitted, "You chose well."

Shouto did not try to hide his smile this time, looking down at the dark liquid before taking another sip. They sat in another comfortable silence before Katsuki grimaced and put down his cup. "I saw Ochako today."

The Prince paused, his brow furrowing. Although his expression did not change much, Katsuki knew him enough to see the flutter of emotions in there. It took the royal heir a moment to respond. "Is she…doing well?"

The blond nodded, plucking a treat from one of the trays and sniffed it. "Seems that way. Stubborn as ever. Misses us." He popped the sweet into his mouth.

Shouto nodded in response, staring down into his reflection in the tea. Another pause. "Does she… seem to have regrets?"

The other man snorted, before swallowing the food in his mouth. "Give her some fucking credit, Shouto. She deserves better than that."

The Todoroki heir closed his eyes. "Yes. You're right."

The clinking of china and heavy footsteps made him open his eyes to find Katsuki crouching down in front of him, elbows balancing on his knees. The Captain tilted his head, giving the Prince a sharp look. "What 'Chako did was for her as much as it was for us, and the best way to thank her is to stop being a little bitch and feeling guilty about it. Hell, send her a fuckin gift basket if it makes you stop moping. I'll even deliver it if it'll shut you up."

Shouto made a soft noise that was half amused as he set his teacup back down. "Katsuki… You're terrible with words, you know."

A hand caught his chin, finger and thumb firmly directing him to look at red eyes brimming with an intensity that never seemed to waiver. "I'm fucking amazing, you royal pain in the ass. Don't you forget it."

A smile touched his lips. "Like you would let me."

"Damn right."

XX

The first thing he became aware of was pain. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe, his head pounded, and his limbs refused to respond. Faintly, he was aware of a strange odor permeating the air and of a warm heat embracing his left side.

Through the pounding in his skull, a distant, soft jingle reached his ears and he began to realize he was not in the Tower.

He tried to open his eyes but to no avail. Every voluntary muscle was on strike. Had he been paralyzed? Was this poison? Panic began to build, bubbling up from his chest, and desperately, he tried to move. Tried to do anything.

Something cool and damp pressed to his temple. Slowly, gently, the sensation moved over his face, around his neck and ears, before coming back to his forehead. Confusion interrupted some of his growing panic, because this sensation was foreign, but it did not bring pain or discomfort.

He felt something slide under his shoulders and lift him up, and through the haziness of his thoughts he realized someone was holding him upright.

Something touched his lips, smooth and curved. It brought a warm liquid to his parched mouth, both rich and bitter in flavor. He wanted to gulp greedily, but his body refused. A few messy sips was all he managed before the source of the liquid moved away. He coughed wetly, the action agonizing to his entire form, leaving him trembling pathetically.

Someone cleaned his face after, gently dabbing the wet cloth over his chin and mouth, and he realized as they laid him back into a reclined position that he was completely at a stranger's mercy.

As much as he didn't want it, sleep took him again.

XX

The sound of birds and running water pulled him from sleep. He wasn't sure how many times he had faded in and out of consciousness. Those moments blended together, leaving behind hazy memories of helplessness and pain. This was the first time he did not feel as if he would succumb to sleep immediately. The pain was still everywhere, but duller. Tentatively, he tried moving and managed to feel his fingers respond.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, letting blurred shapes and colors come into focus. He took in his surroundings for the first time. The first thing he noticed was the tall wooden bookshelves towering over him from his place on the floor. They were filled with books and jars of various shapes and sizes. Just past them, in the corner, was an open door leading out to a small veranda. Vines creeped up the pillars supporting the overhang, and a circle of stone blocks surrounded a small, bubbling pool of water. He could see light catching off of a metal wind chime hanging from a support beam.

Looking to his left, his eyes fell upon the hearth in the center of the room, separating the kitchen from the area he was in. It was unlit and occupied by various cooking utensils. The kitchen area had a table and benches, several shelves of food supplies, and the support beams were lined with bundles of herbs and vegetables hanging to dry. An open window over the sink let sunlight filter in, with the wooden wind chimes knocking softly.

The far side of the house, mostly obscured from his view due to the layout and his position on the floor, seemed to be occupied by a four poster bed, with the posts made up of gnarled wood.

Movement startled him, and his eyes turned to see a black cat slink out from the direction of the bed. It stretched, before hopping up onto an open spot of the kitchen shelves and began to groom itself.

He had… no idea where he was.

Slowly, he tried to push himself up, grimacing as his muscles protested every movement, quaking at the effort. With a gasp, he collapsed back onto his bed, and it was in that moment that he really stopped to look at himself.

He was lying on a bed of furs and covered in a few layers of patchwork quilts. With some amount of effort, he managed to push the quilts down to free an arm. The sight of his own skin made him aware of his nudity, but more importantly, he found himself staring at the gauze plastered over his arm and chest, medicinal poultice peeking out underneath. With his arm now free, the medicinal scent hit him, and he tilted his head away from it, wrinkling his nose.

The sound of a door creaking open behind him made him freeze, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

XX

Ochako sighed as she walked back up to her cottage, her boots pressing into the soft moss with hardly a sound. In her hands was a basket filled to the brim of freshly foraged goods. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her layered dress of green and brown swished as she moved, contrasting the red of her cloak.

Her ward had been mostly unconscious for these last few days, and when he hadn't, it barely counted. She had managed to get some fluids in him, bone stock combined with medicinal powder to prevent infection and help counter the poison from those barbs. His wounds had been routinely redressed, the tissue looking healthy and void of necrosis. His fever had finally broken last night, alleviating some of her concern.

She had no idea what she was going to do. Sure, she had doubted the idea that the Monster of Yuuei was actually a true monster, but she also had not expected to pull off tattered clothes and find a battered young man underneath.

He was… barely an adult, as far as she could tell. Despite his muscle tone and physique, his face betrayed him, full of youth he had yet to grow out of. If she had to guess, he had to be a little younger than her. Seventeen, maybe eighteen tops. It did not help sell the idea that he was fully human, though. The Monster of Yuuei had been around for seven years. There was no way this man had been running around destroying Nomu as a child.

Right?

The most frightening part, however, was the fact that any attempt she had made to identify what he was had failed. Completely failed.

Ochako was an incredibly talented witch. To have multiple spells fail to identify if he was man or monster or somewhere in between spoke of an equally incredible force at work.

If she wanted to find out anything at this point, it was going to require borrowing back some magic from the forest or hoping he woke up soon and gave her some answers.

A soft trill drew her out of her thoughts and she smiled as the orange cat arched up from its perch on her garden workbench. She changed trajectory, walking close enough so that the cat could jump up on her shoulder. Freeing up a hand, she reached up and scratched the creature under its chin. "Hello Dragon," She cooed softly.

She couldn't wait for the day Katsuki found out she'd named one of her cats after him. Or that she named the other one after Prince Shouto.

He called her an insufferable brat, so she made sure she lived up to the namesake. It was the least she could do.

As she stepped inside her home, Dragon abandoned her shoulder for the stack of firewood with a small chirp. Ochako paid him no mind as she deftly undid the ties of her cloak with one hand, pulling the heavy fabric off of her shoulders and hanging it on the hook by the door. Stepping around the heart, she moved into the kitchen, placing down her basket on the table.

Dusting her hands on her dress, she turned to check on her ward and stopped at seeing him awake and staring at her with a wild, wide-eyed look. In the low light of the cottage, his irises glowed a soft, enchanting green, like cloudy emeralds caught in the sun.

He was as still as a wild animal, and it took Ochako several seconds to realize she was the same. Forcing herself out of the moment, she offered a tentative smile. "Hi there."

The sound made him jerk ever so slightly, and he broke eye contact to instead stare at her shoulder. Just when she was convinced he didn't understand, he lowered his head slightly in the faintest of greetings. She considered the movement, before speaking again. "Do you understand me?"

He hesitated, bright green eyes moving to meet hers before he gave a tiny nod. Lips moved like he might try to speak, but then he stopped, swallowing thickly.

"Okay… good." Lifting her hands up, she took a step forward towards the edge of the hearth, noting how he stiffened from the action. She frowned, considering her words carefully. "You've been badly injured and poisoned. I need to give you medicine and check on your wounds. Will you allow me to approach you?"

He was clearly on edge even though he was trying to hide it. Warily, his eyes moved from her down to his body, considering the state he was in and that his dressings were likely her doing. Finally, he looked back up to her. His lips moved to speak, but his voice failed him so he gave her a nod as confirmation.

"Okay," She nodded again. "Thank you."

It only felt natural and polite to thank him, even if in this situation she had no reason to do so. Still, she moved quickly around her kitchen as she started a fire and set up the cooking cauldron to simmer a brothy soup. It was only when she needed to approach him that she slowed down, moving carefully as he watched her like a hawk.

Deliberately, she made sure he could see the medical supplies she had gathered, from the clean water and wash cloths to the jars of salve and new strips of bandages. Idly, she noted she was going to have to make a trip into the city sooner than usual with how fast she was going through some of her supplies.

He shifted his head to watch her as she sat down in front of him, dazed eyes falling on her hands as she sorted through her basket. It was clear his attempts to be alert of her every movement had worn him out and fatigue was setting in.

Reaching up, she pressed her hand to his forehead, feeling his temperature. He flinched just before she touched his skin, nervousness showing behind those glowing green eyes. She continued, touching his cheek with her hand before moving to the blankets, pulling them down so that she could inspect the puncture wounds. "Your fever has not returned."

He said nothing, tiredly watching her as she went over each patch of poultice and each application of medicine, reapplying as necessary. She did her best to not startle him as she moved to look at the wounds on his leg and hip, clinically inspecting the healing injuries, with the cloth on his groin the only thing keeping his modesty.

Of course, now that he was awake, she paused, looking up at him. He was watching her through heavy-lidded eyes. Frowning, she glanced down to his feet and reached out, gently flicking a toe. He jerked a little, and she smiled, repeating the action with the other foot. He twitched a little again, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

"You were poisoned," She explained as she began to replace the blankets over his legs. "I've done my best to help neutralize it, but I was worried about the lasting effects. You have feeling in your feet, which is a good sign."

Looking up at him, she met his gaze, and he broke eye contact, eyes flickering away before looking back at her. She offered a small smile again. "Think you're up for some soup?"

XX

Katsuki glared down at the smoldering corpse as he lowered his fingers, turning to watch his soldiers as they took down the rest of the small pack. Although no more large Nomu had appeared, and certainly no more daytime attacks, he still found himself uneasy about the situation.

None of his men had caught sight of the Monster of Yuuei since the day of the giant Nomu attack. He had recalled seeing it retreat covered in quills from the bigger monster. Only one of his men had been hit by those spikes, and he was still up at the temple recovering from the nasty poison it left behind. Had the monster succumbed to the poison? Was their own little pet terror dead?

Contrary to the general public, Katsuki didn't fear the Monster of Yuuei. Hell, he'd go on to say he liked the damned thing. Monsters could be man or beast, but what defined them was their intent; the desire to harm, to destroy. The Monster of Yuuei had no such intent, so as far as Katsuki was concerned, it was really just an ugly as fuck guard dog.

So admittedly, he hoped it wasn't dead, because that guard dog had helped fend off the Nomu quite efficiently, since before Katsuki had joined the Royal Guard.

Balancing his sword over his shoulder, he looked back out towards the direction of the enchanted forest where Ochako lived. Idly, he recalled it had retreated in that direction after the Nomu fell. He wondered if she had seen or been 'told' anything. Her kind of magic was foreign to him, but he understood that she could speak to the trees or some shit.

She came to town on Fridays, so maybe if the damned thing still hadn't shown up he would make sure he was patrolling the markets so he could ask her.

XX

Over the course of the next few days, his ability to stay conscious for longer stretches improved. He still slept frequently, but now he was able to have some understanding of the passing of time.

He was starting to regain his strength, if he could call it that. He could sit up on his own and eat food without assistance. Standing was out of the question. It was embarrassing to have the witch help him with everything else, but at the very least, she did her best to help preserve some dignity.

To be honest, he hadn't known he still had any left to preserve until she was walking him outside to relieve himself.

She was quiet, usually leaving him alone unless she was tending to him. However, he got the impression that the silence was for him. Her movements were full of energy, a positive energy that radiated off of her like a crisp sunny morning. He could see the way the magic in the air responded to her, eager to answer her beck and call. The wind hugged her at every opportunity. The sun kissed her as often as she let it. All of the magical world seemed happy to embrace her, and it awed him.

He had never seen a person quite like her, so he found himself watching her at his every waking moment.

Her mornings were routine, checking her drying racks, bringing vegetables from the garden, and setting up the hearth for something to cook. She would prepare his meal, which had consistently been a rich bone stock soup, some preserved meats, and a few foraged fruits or vegetables. The medicine always made the soup a little bitter, but he tolerated it.

She would check his wounds after he ate, and although he still watched her warily, he found that he no longer flinched at her touch.

Her cats were always in and out, going as they pleased through the open kitchen window. The orange one had taken to sleeping between his feet atop the blankets, and the black one always watched him around the corners. They were familiars, and they kept an eye on him when she was not there to make sure he behaved.

It was her routine in the evenings that made him realize he had seen her before. He was normally asleep in the evenings, sometimes waking enough to realize she was gone, but not questioning it. However, last night, he had been awake when she came home.

She had come in with the hood of her red cloak over her head and a heavy wooden staff in her hands, and it was then that he recognized her as the witch who lived in the enchanted forest, and that this house must have been hidden deep within it. He had only ever caught glimpses of her from a distance, but he knew she frequently patrolled the nearby farmlands at dusk, fending off Nomu if he did not get there first.

This revelation did not eliminate his wariness, but it did make the nervousness deep in his gut simmer down.

It was now late morning, and she sat back after examining his wounds. Many of them she had not bothered to redress, and he assumed that meant he was healing well. The pain was considerably less this morning, a dull throb compared to before.

"Well," She started, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dress. "I think the wounds will heal fine if you do not aggravate them. I think your strength will return in the coming days as well."

She paused, glancing off to the side as she tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ear. "You know… I abandoned so much of Yuuei culture years ago, and yet I find myself a little embarrassed by the poor hosting etiquette I have displayed. I suppose I was too busy making sure you lived."

Returning to meet his eyes, she offered a smile and pressed a hand to her chest. "My name is Ochako. Welcome to my home. May I know your name?"

He hesitated, peering at her through a mess of too long tangled curls, green eyes glowing softly. His name?

It had been a long time since anyone had asked for his name. There was power in a name, and that power grew the more people knew it. As Ochako's name had left her lips, he felt the magic around them embrace it with almost childlike delight. He could tell this was her real name, and that she was known.

He wondered if his name had any power left at all.

It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did it was raspy from a lack of use. It had been so long since he had needed to speak, much less carry a conversation.

"...Izu…ku."

He watched as Ochako took in a deep breath, feeling the entire forest shudder at the memory of his name.