Disclaimer: I do not own BNHA or Harry Potter or any of its characters.
AN: Enjoy.
Katsuki really likes it when his grandmother combs her hand through his hair on afternoons like these.
Sweat soaks through the black singlet he wears, and his shorts are in no better state. Coming from the harsh heat of the sun is a glare that's hard to take from the wooden porch they're resting on. Katsuki idly watches how the air trembles and groans, soon closing his eyes to the sound of rusting leaves jostled by wind as hot as steam.
Their family has a history of sweat that smells sickly sweet, and the scent is particularly powerful this afternoon. It makes Bakugou Maya laugh when Katsuki's hand blindly reaches out for the clay tea pot filled with cold water and floating tea leaves. "Lazy brat," She says fondly, and passes him a traditional tea cup over twice the size of his palms.
It's a good day to hang the bed sheets and dry laundry. The fabrics flutter about, wafting with the scent of something fresh and outside. Like time, if Katsuki must put words to it. The moment feels magical in a way, just like the stories his Baachan loves to tell.
Maya digs calloused fingers into her grandson's blond spikes, "Aye," She lets out a quiet breath, "Your hair's really just like your grandfather's. Be grateful you got your looks from the royal side of the family," she chuckles softly.
Katsuki gives an indignant sound, "Bullshit," he states, earning a light smack on his arm. "This family ain't royalty. And I'm going to be the number one hero when I grow up, not one of those wussy-looking princes."
"Watch your mouth, little firecracker. You should be proud of your blood. Your grandfather's line runs from the dukes of old, and your amazing baachan isn't a pushover in the family name either. Be proud you've got the genes in the family, or you would've turned out ugly and weak."
The tease has Katsuki scrunching his nose, adjusting his position from where his head lays in Maya's lap. "I'm not weak! And I don't care about things like looks. Why does it even matter? I'm saying that nobody thinks that fairy tale shit is cool anymore."
It gets him another smack, but being a potty mouth runs in the blood, so Katsuki casually shrugs of the non-verbal reprimand. "Fairy tales don't equal to the royal hierarchy." Maya shakes her head despite her amusement.
For a moment, she stops petting her grandson, and opts for tying up her ebony hair streaked with grey. The woman's scarlet eyes gleam in the sunlight, letting out an eerie glow.
Bakugou Maya's straight back catches dignity like a kite in the wind. There's always something about the air around his grandmother which Katsuki adores. It feels powerful, heavy. The weight of a forest fire in full, able to take lives on a whim.
It's half the reason he sticks with her as much. Why he bothers to walk 30 minutes to and fro their houses. Turning, the boy buries his face into her thigh, ears tipped with embarrassment. "Fine," He muffles. "Maybe that fairy tale bullshit's not as lame. You'd pass for an okay princess, stupid old granny."
"And you'd pass for an okay knight, disrespectful brat." She pinches his cheeks. "Don't give me that look, it used to be a respectable job- they save the ladies and get rewarded for it. Ultimately, they're heroes in their own way too. What did I tell you but close-minded boys? You won't get a good Quirk that way."
She pushes him upright, ignoring the unpolished glare. "Come on, move in a bit. It's getting hotter out here. I'll tell you a story inside."
"But I've heard everything already," Katsuki groans with immaturity only a child can achieve. Smirking, Maya pinches his soft cheeks and weaves a story of a story of old. About a separate world who chooses to leave their future in little boy's hands. Katsuki thinks it's pathetic and weird.
The characters wield Magic like how the world Katsuki knows have their Quirks, but Maya strongly emphasises in the difference. Magic is Magic she says, as though it explains everything. Katsuki makes his point by lighting up an explosion, calling it 'Bombarda Maxima' in pain-worthy mispronunciation for the foreign tongue.
The unfortunately disguised Explosion Quirk breaks two tea cups and a chunk of the sliding door, but Maya only cackles. Her hair with silver and blacks as dark as shadows tickle Katsuki's overheated face and he entertains the thought of burning them too.
Nevertheless, throughout the large castles, untimely adventures, and infinite owls, a certain part catches Katsuki's attention. Thestrals, his granny calls them, as Katsuki asks why no one can see the fascinating sounding creatures.
(A ride worthy of a knight, the blond thinks in a moment of enrapture. A child's fascination with animals burning strong from within. Grinning sharply, he wonders what it's like to ride a creature a Saviour has.)
Rubbing her grandson's shoulders, Maya does her best in explaining how death works. Katsuki nods, pretending he gets it because the one thing he doesn't want is for his grandmother to think that he's stupid. Maya simply kisses his cheek knowingly. The blond boy, does not, in fact, truly get what it means for someone to go away spiritually and never return again.
"Thestrals can't be seen by people who haven't seen death, but even if they did, you'd have to understand what it means too. No use pretending with me, brat. It's not something you'd want to know and best leave it that way. You'll get it when you're older, though. No rush."
Maya ruffles his hair. Was that a bit too obvious?
Idly, she hopes that she lives long enough so that he'll never have to find out at such a young age. Katsuki is a bundle of trouble, but the attitude is as much a front as he is a boy on the inside. Mitsuki has told her about Katsuki's habit on picking up underlings; it makes her insides churn when he realises that in a way, Katsuki knows death like he knows cruelty.
The boy knows how to be cruel, but he doesn't understand what it means to knife someone down until it leaves never-fading scars- both literally and non-literally. No half-way decent Bakugou will grow up ignorant of consent and maliciously picking on the weak for things that can't control. She'll have to remember to knock the bully out of him before then.
Katsuki's dozing off by the time the sun's setting and Maya's in the middle of underhandedly telling off the questionable life choices of the Saviour's mentor apparent. She lets out a fond breath and cradles her grandson as if he were still a baby against her chest. Standing up, Maya carries Katsuki to the guestroom that has implicitly always been his.
"Burn brightly always, my little firecracker."
When Bakugou Maya passes away half a year later, it is within cold rain and poetically unplanned flame.
A single gas leak is all it takes, and Katsuki cannot comprehend the consequence of such. It's pouring when his mother grabs her son and drags him to the hospital 20 minutes away. The walls of the place are clean with the scent of disinfectant and hand sanitizer. Beds on wheels roll, each repetitive clicks on the tiled floors build something akin to fear in Katsuki.
His mother's grip on his wrist don't get any gentler. Sweat collects in his palms and his feet- withdrawn in their own world, almost no one notices the tiny sparks. Katsuki's lowers his head as his feet take to a semi-jog. He's used to playful knocks on the head and pinches to the cheeks, this is a new experience entirely.
His father fails to be by mom's side, but calls and says he's on the way from work. The knowledge only manages to ease the Mitsuki marginally, it escapes her notice that not once does Katsuki try to wriggle out of her bruising grip.
Storms continue to churn outside; it perfectly reflects the state of the Bakugou family. The mother, father, but not Katsuki. He doesn't feel anything at all when they announce his granny's death at 12.34 midnight.
The fact fails to register in him. Katsuki can only stare at the unbreathing body and messy burnt hair spilling off the side of the bed. There's a strong stench of charred flesh, but it doesn't really affect Katsuki when all he can think of is it stinks, and she's dead?
A strange urge to laugh wells upon within him; Katsuki pushes it down with everything he has, but he painful pull of the corner of his mouth comes anyway. It feels like betrayal.
Mitsuki breaks into tears. It's something Katsuki has never seen before, his mother looks angry first and foremost. As her son, Katsuki blankly tries to imitate it without knowing. She is your caregiver, protector, teacher the monkey part of his brain provides. Watch and learn, this is how you bow your head to Death.
The rage comes easily enough, rubbing itself aggressively all over Katsuki's heart. Still, his eyes feel dry and his insides are light. The anger flickers in and out of life, but extinguishes easily when the blond is suddenly pulled long into another room. Vividly, Katsuki can remember how his granny's legs are covered in exposed patches of red muscle.
He walks a lucid dream after that. There are no nightmares and Katsuki's somewhat aware that he's acting as usual save for the silence he wields as easily as the Quirk his Granny often praised. It comes in explosive bursts- Mitsuki cries when he's soundless for days at a time.
Katsuki learns the language of flowers during his spare time. Excused from school as his parents make arrangements for whatever happens when someone dies, the blond tries to find solace in the meanings of his Granny's favourite flower. It comes in a book his mother gives him when she catches him staring at one of the flower shops she's had business in.
The funeral is contrary to what people would think of the loud, magnetic Bakugou family. It's quiet and private, inviting only close friends and family members which aren't many to start with. Katsuki is dressed in all black, save for a white button up inside and a flower of mourning in his breast pocket.
He wears it despite his mother's very vocal concerns, throwing a tantrum to insist that he's allowed a Higanbana.
He is the favourite grandson of the deceased, and can't tell the difference between the funeral and wake. Yet, whereupon people are drying their tears or covering their pathetic sobs with wet handkerchiefs, Katsuki stoically sits through the smiling portrait of his granny staring at him with sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones.
Hours later, people whisper that he doesn't cry.
Katsuki doesn't get it. He still doesn't. There's nobody to call him out on his words from half a year ago.
Time passes, moving easily like how waves coil on the surface of the ocean. Masaru gets a promotion, and there's news on the family shifting to Musutafu. Katsuki has had plenty of time to think before and after the move. Doing so has him searching out for his dad in the house stacked with cardboard boxes.
"What's gonna happen to granny's house?" He asks.
Masaru informs him of their intentions to clean the place up. Perhaps once they've settled down, the family can go visit again. Katsuki nod, strangely meek and it makes Masaru's heart ache. The boy's come far ever since the first few days, but the bouts of liveliness is counted.
Getting into a new environment seems to put away Katsuki's emotional turmoil away temporarily. He packs his bag and puts on the uniform with a frown on his face. Stepping into the new class feels like hell.
It's challenging being among people he doesn't (want to) know or care about. The urge to simply blow up everything stirs. Their voices are grating- entirely too whiny or bitchy about having to wake up early for class. They talk about idle nonsense like a new curriculum, a new class, two new students! It annoys Katsuki like no other when everyone is acting like the everything's all fine and dandy.
Like his granny's death doesn't matter. To them, it's only another day in on the calendar. The nonchalance makes Katsuki wants to scream and kick and screech. The fire is stuck in his throat, his tongue feels dry and heavy resting in his mouth.
With a scowl that's deepening with every second he's here, Katsuki feels cold relief when they get to pick their own seats at least. The blond glances to his right, where a weak and wimpy looking boy is practically ready to pop open like a soda filled bottle.
Midoriya Izuku has too big eyes and a flickering silhouette. "Hi," the boy first introduces himself, putting out a hand Katsuki refuses to take. "My name's Midoriya Izuku." He continues awkwardly. "It'smyfirstdayhereit'snicetomeetyou!"
Katsuki harrumphs, reluctantly giving his name as well; because when she's not joking, his granny doesn't appreciate rude brats who can't return a greeting properly. The thought stings vaguely, the weak looking loser's body seems to shift closer to him in their chairs.
"U-um, Kacchan?" Midoriya tries, Bakugou barely supresses the urge to get up and hiss. The teacher's here though, and it's the only reason why Midoriya's not dea- not learning his place in front of Katsuki's superior self.
(Fine, maybe he did binge a little on the fairy tale books he found in Granny's personal library. According to the printed family tree, Katsuki's grandpa is actually a legit Duke. It doesn't help Katsuki's re-emerging arrogance.)
Deku, or so Katsuki's taken to calling the second new kid besides him, is as sticky as melted ice cream. Like some lost lamb, the skinny boy tags along Katsuki during lunch break and beyond.
The blond tries to lose him at the playground, but to no affect. It's like the stupid Deku's attracted to him from some unknown force or something. Katsuki feels pissed, he wants to be left alone to cradle the lingering weird feeling left by his Granny. It's the only thing he actually gets nowadays, taking it as a remembrance.
"Stop running, Kacchan!" Deku calls from behind. Though not from being unable to keep up or anything. On the contrary, the boy doesn't look even a bit tired or out of breath. Katsuki wonders why for a moment, understanding popping into his head when he spots the teacher a distance away.
"I'll stop running when you stop following me, stupid Deku. Leave me alone!"
"I- I'm sorry, but I can't do that."
"And why not?" Katsuki sneers.
"That's cause- you… you're- I don't know! But just let me see you properly!"
"No. Go away, and don't talk to me." Katsuki picks up the speed, running further than they're supposed to in the compound. Thinly lining where the older children normally hang out. Suddenly, Deku's beside him in a burst of speed. Katsuki screeches to a halt when the boy's emaciated appearance is right up in his space.
A small explosion comes between them. "Don't come near me if I say so, stupid Deku! Didn't your gran ever teach you bout staying away if someone says no?" Katsuki spits angrily. Deku pauses, flinching slightly. He realises his mistake, the blond concludes. And feels proud of himself.
"I'm sorry," Deku genuinely apologises. Katsuki's eyes widen with shock when he sees something shimmer behind the green haired boy. The image is blurry, and appearing and disappearing equally quick. Nevertheless, Katsuki had seen it. They look like wings- large and leathery and plus Deku, like the Thestrals his gran once drew out.
A switch flips in Katsuki, desperate to hold on to any sign of his gran. Logical or illogical. He still doesn't understand it, and maybe he never will. But he knows he misses her, and dreads going back to Granny's old home without her inside.
"What is that?!" Katsuki raises his voice, making Izuku's sensitive ears ring. "You can see it?" Izuku wanders out loud, shock evident on his face. "I thought that people my age can't see them, but you can…?"
"You're a Thestral!" the blond immediately jumps. Never mind that the creature might as well be mystical and non-existent in real life. "Shit! Hurry up, stupid nerd. Show me, change into your other form."
Izuku does, if only out of confusion and the stunning wild look in Katsuki's crimson eyes. He gets the feeling that Katsuki's looking for something, though, and it's probably the same thing that's driving Izuku's senses crazy into following the explosive boy around.
In his other form, Izuku is taller than Katsuki by about an inch or two. He's grown since revealing himself to Hitocchan, and hopes to keep the steady progress. Izuku bobs his head, paying careful attention to Katsuki's reaction.
The blond freezes when the spots the faint outline of the Thestral flickering in and out of sight. He's seen death, hasn't he? Watched as the last of his Gran's life left her. He's confusedangrysadlonely- so why?
Why did you leave me? Why can't he fully see the Thestral?
And it hits him, harder than anything else. Worse than when he activated his Quirk for the first time and gave himself burns that lasted for months. It hurts, Katsuki realises. It hurts that his Granny's no longer here. He can't drink cold tea with her during summer anymore, can't unintentionally break cups older than him or can't sleep with his head on her lap.
He can't soak and whine in the stink of sweet smelling sweat as she tells stories that last on end, or feel delicate fingers in his hair as she compares him to a prince. Granny's gone. Buried beneath the earth from whence she'll return to.
Everything's crushing down and Katsuki cannot deal with the weight-
In cold echoes, and eerie trill snaps him out of it. Katsuki jerks from where he stands as still as a statue with wide, unblinking eyes.
Izuku walks up to him, wings relaxed and open by his sides. The Seer is sad, instinct tells him. It makes the Thestral lick a cold swipe up the young Seer's wet and salty cheeks. Izuku chirps, in what he hopes come off as soothing. Rubbing their cheeks together, Katsuki looks scarily blank.
The Thestral- for now he knows what he is- nudges his body forward gently. Katsuki is easily pushed back, appearing surprised as the unexpected show of strength. The look is somehow vulnerable and open on him, and Izuku lets out yet another eerie sounding chirp. With his head over the blond's shoulder, their fronts touching, Izuku stands still, waiting.
Finally, Katsuki understands and wounds up both arms around Izuku's neck. He blinks, and finds that he can see the stupid horse. His eyes trace each individual rib and knobby spine, observing how the skin and short furs on Izuku's back are a shimmering dark green and a little translucent.
Katsuki tightens his hold, hugging the Thestral, a wave of calmness washing over him as his fingers fiddle with the long mane. Burying his face into the growing foal's neck, Katsuki's hands instinctively comes to braid Izuku's mane- taught and practiced on Bakugou Maya herself.
For hours (and years) to come, the two stick together even when the other children complain about Izuku skipping class because they can't see him.