Over the next few days, Kirishima spent much of his waking time talking. He kept wondering how long it would actually take him to tell Bakugou everything about himself, but Kirishima was constantly thinking of new things to say, new stories to tell. Over the course of one day he'd told Bakugou he was a selkie and laid himself bare; suddenly nothing was too personal or too mundane to talk about. Kirishima wanted to share it all.

Well, not quite all. There was still one thing he kept unspoken: his strange, overpowering feelings for Bakugou. They were only growing stronger with time. Kirishima had never wanted another person like this. He'd craved company in general, of course, and felt the loss of his mother when they'd separated, and the few times he'd made friends with other selkies he'd missed them terribly afterwards too – but never to this extent. He couldn't remember ever wanting to touch anyone so badly, couldn't remember wondering what someone's skin felt like, how it would feel to run his hands up and down that person's body and the reaction doing so would earn him.

Kirishima was pretty sure his feelings were something best kept locked up. First of all, he had no idea if Bakugou felt the same way. He wasn't sure how to tell if he did, either; although Kirishima was getting better at reading Bakugou's immediate reactions, he was worse at guessing his feelings over time, because he had no baseline for them. He couldn't say how Bakugou normally was, because he didn't know him well enough to have any idea where "normal" lay.

Second, while it wasn't unheard of for two male or two female selkies to be mates – the other selkies wouldn't pass judgement; they were almost always live-and-let-live in this regard – Kirishima had never seen two human males together in that way. This was a tiny issue, however, compared to the fact that they were different species. Kirishima had never heard of a human and a selkie being together romantically. He'd hardly even heard of them coexisting, besides the stories he'd heard of humans finding or stealing selkies' skins and making the selkies their slaves. That was hardly a happy coexistence. Kirishima wondered if there even could be one, until he reminded himself that he was involved in one right now. That gave him a pleasant thrill; even if nothing ever happened between them besides firelit conversations and sealskin-sharing, Kirishima would know afterwards that it was possible to be a human's friend.

xxxxxx

Kirishima wasn't surprised, a few days later, when selkies appeared. With how much Bakugou was pulling the fish towards them, Kirishima had actually expected it earlier.

It was around noon, but the day was overcast and cool. Bakugou was napping near where the beach turned to grass, and Kirishima, bored, was considering whether or not to go for a pleasure-swim when he saw the two heads between the waves. Kirishima knew as soon as he noticed them that they'd spotted him first, and they were making their way up to him purposefully; a meeting could not be avoided. He waited, still in his human form, for them to reach the edge of the water.

There was a little voice inside him shouting Selkies!, but it wasn't as loud as it would have been ten days or so ago. Along with the joy of seeing his own species and potentially getting new company, Kirishima also felt his stomach coiling in fear. He hoped Bakugou wouldn't wake and come down to investigate, because the selkies would immediately be able to tell he was a human, and Kirishima wasn't sure how they'd react.

The pair only changed to their human forms when they were near the very edge of the water, the woman turning first and helping the man to his feet moments after. They were both naked besides their sealskins, which they'd slung over their shoulders in a casual, practiced way. From their physical closeness, the easy way the woman had reached out to touch the man, Kirishima guessed they were mates. They both had long, tangled dark hair and broad shoulders with short, thick limbs.

They looked him over for a moment, no one speaking. After spending so much time with Bakugou, Kirishima had forgotten how stolid other selkies tended to be, and how much of an anomaly he himself was. "Greetings," Kirishima said at last. He shifted his own sealskin onto his shoulders the same way they had.

They both nodded at him, making their way onto the sand. They sat down cross-legged next to one another, close enough that their legs touched. Kirishima sat down across from them, staring at them in the same unembarrassed, direct way they stared at him. Finally the woman spoke, breaking the silence that was beginning to feel awkward. "There are a lot of fish in this area."

Bakugou had called the fish not an hour ago. Probably the pair had simply followed their food source over. "I've noticed that too," Kirishima said, in a tone he hoped seemed casual.

The selkies both nodded. Kirishima wanted badly to glance behind him at Bakugou, but he knew that would only draw their attention to him. Don't come near, don't come near, Kirishima wanted to beg him. He was thankful the wind was blowing off the sea that day, because otherwise it might have carried the scent of human across the beach to them. Even if they did spot Bakugou, they might just think the boy was Kirishima's selkie mate, as long as he kept his distance.

"The fish are behaving very strangely this year," the man said.

"Yes," Kirishima said. "They sure are."

Did they think Kirishima had something to do with it? Were they trying to get him to explain why it was happening? Were they just remarking on it, as one might remark on the weather? Kirishima ran a hand through his hair in frustration, wishing the selkies would be a little more direct, when the woman's eyes slid from him to gaze into the distance just to the left of his head.

"We'll probably stay nearby so long as the fish are so plentiful here," she said, standing suddenly and helping the man to his feet, as she had before. "I hope that won't bother you."

"Oh, no," Kirishima said, knowing that even if he said it did bother him they probably wouldn't care. "I probably will too. You know… you want to take advantage of these things when they happen."

They both nodded once more, then turned and walked back into the sea. Once they were thigh deep they plunged into the water in their seal forms, the movement practiced and graceful. They went beneath the waves almost immediately, and didn't surface again as long as Kirishima watched.

When he turned around, Bakugou was still up near their campsite, but standing, his eyes fixed on the ocean. "Those were selkies," he said when Kirishima had reached him. They stood side by side near their campsite, both gazing out to sea.

"Yes."

"I figured, from the…" Bakugou made a gesture like he was throwing the sealskin over his shoulders. "And the whole turning into a seal thing."

"They came because of all the fish in the area," Kirishima said, sighing. "And the longer we stay here, the more selkies are going to come."

Bakugou grunted. He seemed to think about this statement for a long time, but he didn't say anything.

"Selkies can smell the difference between other selkies and humans," Kirishima went on, Bakugou's silence beginning to bother him. He realized unhappily they might have known the truth just from Bakugou's scent being on him and on his sealskin. "They'll know you're a human."

"And then what?" Bakugou said, his voice low, his eyes narrowed.

Kirishima shrugged, sighed again, barely resisting the urge to pull his hair out. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know what to do. I don't know if – if you should just stop calling the fish so often, or stop completely, or if we should go somewhere else. I don't know how other selkies will react to seeing you. I don't know anything."

"Hey," Bakugou said sharply. Kirishima turned to look at him. "What are you panicking for?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think's gonna happen?" He paused. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Kirishima considered that. "I don't know if other selkies will do anything to us. I think, at worst, they'd shun me… but it's not like I spend much time with them, anyways…"

"They won't, like, attack me?"

"Oh, no," Kirishima said, laughing in surprise at the idea. "No, no, no." He'd never heard of selkies attacking humans, with the sole exceptions of those poor people whose skins were stolen and who attacked to get them back. That was done out of pure desperation, a last resort. "No, they won't attack either of us. No. More likely they'll just ignore us completely."

Or maybe they'd flock to Bakugou once they realized his effect on the fish. Not that the selkies would spend time with him, of course, but they might stay nearby, just out of sight, since it made hunting so much simpler. They might not realize exactly what was going on, but they weren't stupid; they would realize that either Bakugou or Kirishima was the reason for the influx of fish, and take advantage of it.

Kirishima realized this could get very complicated, very fast. He also realized that Bakugou was staring at him, watching his face intently. Kirishima blushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"You're worried about it," Bakugou said – a statement, not a question.

"Yes." It was no use to lie.

Bakugou's voice was low, nearly a whisper, and he looked away as he spoke. "Do you want me to leave?"

Kirishima couldn't help his physical reaction at those words; as if Bakugou had threatened to walk away right that moment, he grabbed Bakugou's hands and held them tightly. "Don't go!"

He may very well have given too much of himself away with that. Bakugou stared at him in shock, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Kirishima dropped the boy's hands after a moment. "Don't go," he said again, trying to control his voice, although it was too late now, wasn't it? Bakugou could clearly see how desperate he was to make him stay. "If we have to go somewhere else, we can go together. There's no need for you to leave."

Bakugou narrowed his eyes and looked into Kirishima's face, studying him very carefully. It was the sort of look that made Kirishima feel like he was stripped bare, like no matter how hard he tried to hide what he was thinking, Bakugou would be able to see through it in an instant. Kirishima squirmed beneath the gaze, stepping away without meaning to.

"You want me to stay with you," Bakugou said. It was almost an exact echo of what he'd said in their first serious conversation, the one they had by firelight the day after they'd met.

"Yes."

"Why? If it's not the fish thing…" Bakugou huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You said you wanted me to stay because of the fish thing, but now you're saying I might not even be able to do it, because it's too obvious or whatever. So why do you want me to stay with you?"

Do you really need me to say it? Kirishima thought. Are you going to make me spell it out for you? There was a moment's pause: yes, it seemed like Bakugou wouldn't take his silence for an answer. Kirishima inhaled deeply and tried to compose himself before speaking, although he could feel his hands shaking.

"It isn't the fish thing," he said. "Not anymore." If it ever really was just that, he added mentally. "I like being around you. I was lonely, and I'm not lonely when I'm with you." Bakugou was still staring at him through narrowed eyes, and it made Kirishima want to keep talking just to make that skeptical look go away. "We can keep living just like this if you want – I can bring you fish instead. Or, or," he babbled on, unable to stop himself, "we can go to a village. You can talk to other humans again."

"You're serious," Bakugou said, as if, after all that, he still doubted Kirishima's sincerity.

Kirishima nodded, wondering if his pleading tone was obnoxious, whether Bakugou's next action would be to laugh.

"I don't need to talk to humans again, but I…" Bakugou scratched the back of his head, exhaled, and looked off towards the trees, away from the water. "There's something I want to…"

"What is it?"

There was a long pause before Bakugou spoke again. "I want to go back to my own village. Just to see. I know everyone's probably dead and gone, and maybe it'll be dangerous or whatever, but…"

Kirishima nodded. He should have seen this coming. He hadn't, and that made him want to kick himself. "But maybe not everyone's – gone. Maybe some people are still there."

"Yes," Bakugou said, looking at him again. "Yes."

Kirishima felt as if his heart was being gripped and twisted. He could hardly breathe from the mixture of hope and fear he felt; his pulse drummed in his ears. "Can I come with you?"

"It's not by the ocean, but there's a river nearby," Bakugou said, very quickly, as if he'd been anticipating Kirishima's question and had prepared for it. As if he'd planned this entire conversation in advance. "But on the way there I think we'll have to walk through areas that don't have any bodies of water at all. And like I said it might be dangerous. If the people who did it are still there. Or if we run into someone else."

"It's fine, it's fine," Kirishima said. He was smiling despite – because of? – the earnest tone that Bakugou's voice had taken on. "I know it could be dangerous. And I can live away from water. I can eat human food, too. It doesn't have to be fish."

Bakugou let out a surprised laugh at that, and Kirishima could actually see him relaxing. To think that Bakugou had actually been anticipating rejection seemed almost unthinkable, when Kirishima himself was so far gone on him. He could have suggested visiting the desert and Kirishima would have agreed.

"It took me seven or eight days of walking to reach here," Bakugou said. "I went as fast as I could, but it wasn't a direct route. So I don't know how far it actually is." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't know that I can actually find it again on my own… I need a map."

A map – that meant a visit to a human town. Of course, they'd need to go anyway, wouldn't they? They'd need food and clothing, new shoes (or shoes in the first place, in Kirishima's case).

"The nearest human town half a day's swim north." Kirishima didn't know how to express that in distance or walking time. "We can head out whenever you want."

"We need money," Bakugou said, his voice edged with frustration. "We could gather a bunch of fish and sell them. I guess there's probably a fish market? But that would take a long time, I can't imagine fish are worth very much, and maps and stuff are expensive…"

"Oh." Something had occurred to Kirishima, something he hadn't given thought to in years. "I can get us money. It will take a day, though. Actually…" He paused a moment, thinking, calculating. "If you start walking when you wake up tomorrow morning, I should be able to reach the town about the same time as you. You can meet me there."

"Meet you – Kirishima, how are you going to get money?" Bakugou said.

"I'll just go gather it. There is money in the ocean." Bakugou tried that pinning gaze on him again, but Kirishima was expecting it, and deflected it with a smile. "Trust me on this? I'm not sure how to explain it, but you'll know what I mean when I bring it back."

"What are you going to do, find pearls or something?" Bakugou was apparently unable to accept that as an answer.

"No, no, it's human money," Kirishima said. "Coins. On the ocean floor. In a ship."

"Ohh," Bakugou said. "A shipwreck."

Kirishima nodded, still smiling. He was glad Bakugou knew what he was talking about, glad there was a word for it. "Yes. But it will take me a long time to swim there, and it's in the direction of the town, so it makes the most sense for me to just meet you there."

"You should have just said that to begin with," Bakugou said, glaring, "instead of making me ask all these questions."

"Sorry." Kirishima grinned. Bakugou was annoyed, but not mad; in fact, Kirishima liked him like this, liked to tease him a little and know the boy would stay even if he felt a little put-out. "Does that sound okay, though?"

"Yeah, whatever," Bakugou said, and Kirishima knew that was as good an answer as he was going to get.

xxxxxx

That meant Kirishima had to leave that evening. The shipwreck was further north than the town and out to sea some distance – not a short swim, particularly for someone as out of shape as he had recently become. He hadn't visited it in many years, and although he remembered the location generally, he wasn't sure how long it would take him.

That meant his last night sleeping here in the sand with Bakugou had already passed. The thought that they'd be leaving this area made Kirishima feel oddly sad. There wasn't actually anything special here, just beach as far as the eye could see and behind it grass and trees; but it was their spot, the place they'd met, the place they'd spent their entire correspondence thus far. The only place they had existed together.

Kirishima made sure to tell Bakugou where to meet him in as much detail as possible. He didn't want to risk them getting separated; the idea send a chill of terror down his spine. No, he would wait for Bakugou as long as necessary, and he knew Bakugou would wait for him. Kirishima felt glad to be able to offer something Bakugou needed. He was a little surprised Bakugou was planning to accept the shipwreck money, but they didn't have a lot of other choices, it seemed, if they wanted to buy things in the town.

"Try not to go in the ocean," Kirishima said. Bakugou had called the fish one last time, and now they sat by the fire, watching the post-sunset sky grow dark as night fell around them. "Just so you don't attract any attention."

"I know."

"And wait for me if I'm not there! Don't leave without me. It's possible something might delay me. Weather maybe. Or if I can't find it –"

"Kirishima!" Bakugou's voice was rough, a little annoyed. "I know." A beat. "I'll wait."

"Thank you." Kirishima exhaled, trying to calm the tension that filled his body. He felt sick with nerves. There was so much that could go wrong. What if he couldn't find the shipwreck, or someone had taken all of the money that was there? What if something attacked him underwater? What if someone attacked Bakugou on land? What if the town had been destroyed just like Bakugou's village and was no longer there? What if –

"Stop it."

"Huh?"

"Stop it," Bakugou said again, nudging Kirishima with his shoulder lightly. "I can practically hear you thinking. You're worrying way too much." Kirishima wasn't sure how Bakugou himself could say that – Bakugou, who had seen the worst parts of the world, who knew better than anyone how many things could go wrong. "We'll see each other tomorrow afternoon, yeah?"

"Afternoon or maybe evening." Kirishima felt stupidly sentimental and hated himself for it. It was so un-selkie-like of him to have this much trouble saying goodbye, even when he knew he'd see Bakugou the very next day.

"I'll be there," Bakugou said, as if reading his thoughts.

Kirishima finally, finally gave in to the longing that had been plaguing him for days. He turned to face Bakugou, leaned over – it wasn't far, since they were seated side by side – and wrapped his arms around him. Kirishima's face was near Bakugou's neck, and when he inhaled he breathed air that smelled so intensely of Bakugou that he felt something warm bloom in his chest.

Kirishima kept it a short embrace. He didn't want to frighten Bakugou away; just about the worst thing to imagine would be pulling back and seeing a look of disgust or disdain there. But Bakugou's face was as soft as Kirishima had ever seen it. "You're so sentimental," he said, but his tone was strangely low and gravelly.

"I should go," Kirishima said, rising. If he didn't go now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to bring himself to leave at all. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Bakugou nodded in recognition, and without a word Kirishima stepped away, down the sand and into the sea.