Author's Note: This chapter was originally written between chapters 1 and 2. The original plan was for ch. 1 to be a oneshot and for this story to involve mainly Todoroki and Midoriya. However, after I decided to expand on Kirishima and Bakugou's story, they melded into one. From here on out there will be several different narrators, but hopefully I make it clear whose point of view it's from.

The sky was as beautiful as he had ever seen it. Beyond the ash, there was still grass growing. The wind was gentle at his back, and it brought the smell of summer - grass, trees, flowers. Midoriya inhaled deeply.

The world was the same, except it wasn't. His house was gone. His neighbors' houses were gone. The dirt roads between them still remained, but the fences were destroyed. The animals not killed immediately had all escaped. The ones killed lay rotting in the sun.

Midoriya could hear birds chirping and the sound of the wind, so he couldn't exactly say it was silent, but it was devoid of the sounds he was listening for: any sign of humanity. No sign of the livestock either. He would get no help, so there wasn't time to despair. He had work to do.

xxxxxx

He didn't think when he was dragging the bodies away. He couldn't think, because if he let himself think he would have fallen to the ground and never gotten up.

He should have been dead. It was sheer luck that had prevented it. He had been grazing his sheep a few miles from the village, and had come as fast as he could when he saw the smoke - far, far too much to be cooking fires. By that time, the ones who did this were already gone. Everyone in the village was gone as well, or dead; no one was left wounded.

When he arrived, Midoriya had still been able to hear the horsemen, the pounding of hooves and distant laughter. Blind, his mind white with rage, he'd run after them. He lost their trail within the hour, but he had kept running.

He ran after them for two days, drinking out of streams and puddles, eating nothing. On the third day, he collapsed. He could run no further.

He turned around and made his way home.

xxxxxx

Not everyone was dead. There weren't enough bodies for that. Either some people had escaped, or they were taken. There were more men's bodies than women's. Midoriya tried to keep track of them all, who was dead and who was gone, but to look at the faces of the bodies made him sick. In the end there were a few people he wasn't sure about, because he could not bear to look closely enough.

He couldn't dig a grave large enough for them all, so instead he dragged them all outside of the village, around the curve of a hill so it wouldn't be visible from where the houses stood, and built a pyre. It took days. He wanted to put it off but he knew the smell will only get worse.

Finally, finally, when he lit the pyre and the flames grew larger and larger, he walked back through the village, stinking and covered in sweat. He went to the river and walked into it. The water was colder than he expected, but the shock felt good. He stood in the middle of it; at its deepest, the water went up to his chin. It took all his force not to be pushed back by the current. He wanted to let go and let himself be taken downstream, away from the village; he wanted to let it take him all the way to the ocean, wanted to be washed out to sea.

When he turned his head, he saw the black smoke of the pyre.

Not everyone is dead, he told himself.

Midoriya made himself walk out of the river. That night, he slept in the shell of his old house, looking at the stars.

xxxxxx

There were still crops in the fields. There were still fish in the river. And on the fourth day after his return to the village, the sheep came home. Some were his, but not all. There were too many for them to all be from his flock. They grazed in the village now, where they had never been allowed to graze before. They slept in the roofless buildings, and the soot rubbed off on them and made them gray.

It was the sheep, finally, that pulled him from his haze. They were selfish in the way only animals could be, and they demanded his full attention, pushing their bodies against his legs and lipping at his fingers if they were ignored too long. The sheep were real, loud, smelly, tactile. They did not let him get lost inside his own head.

He found the house that had gotten the least burned. The roof was gone and the top of the walls were singed, but the fire must have gone out before it could do any more damage. He made a new roof, bundled thatch the way he remembered seeing it done. Light still streamed through; he patched it again and again until it was solid. It was sloppy, ugly, but it held, or at least it would for the time being. He dreaded the first heavy rain. He tried not to think about whose house it was before.

Not everyone is dead, he told himself.

Someday, they may come back. The ones taken may get free. The others who ran - there must be others who ran - will find their way back home. At least there will be someone there when they do. He could not come in time to stop the horsemen, and he could not catch them, so this was the only thing left for him to do.

xxxxxx

He talked to himself. He talked to the sheep. He talked without even realizing he was talking. He realized his life wasn't that different than it had been before; as a shepherd, he'd spent long days and nights alone, and sometimes a week or more had passed without him seeing another soul. It was only at night, when he went into the house - his house, now - and cooked himself dinner, that it hit him. To sleep in a house and not have his mother in the other room - to have to do all his own cooking - to live in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in -

Weeks in, he kept thinking he was past the point where it would hit him. He must have gotten used to it by now. Sometimes days did pass when he was too tired to think, or too distracted by something for it to bother him. The night of the first rainstorm, for example, he was trying to find enough containers to catch all the leaks that came through his roof; he was up half the night, soaked, and slept until noon. But it hit him the next day. It was an actual physical feeling in his chest, and it took his breath away with its intensity. He staggered out into the night and finds a sheep and thrusts his face into its wool, breathing in the scent - not good, but earthy. It grounded him. It was nice to have something warm and living to hold on to, even it bleated nervously and tried to sidle away.

No one's going to come back, he would think some nights, when things felt darkest. Or, worse: No one survived but me. Logically, he knew it was far too soon to give up. It has been barely a month. The people who were taken - who knew how far away they ended up? Even in the best of circumstances, they would need more time than this to find their way home.

I will not be alone forever, he told himself. I only need to endure.

xxxxxx

Summer turned to autumn. The trees hadn't lost their leaves yet, but the sun set earlier and earlier, and the nights were growing terribly cold. His house wasn't insulated enough; he found there were still cracks in the sides of the walls where cold air could seep in, and padded them the best he could with thatch. And, for the first time, he went from house to house and found everything he could that was salvageable. There were some blankets, some extra clothing. He washed it all in the river, hung it up to dry, and slept better at night, wrapped in layers and layers.

One day, as he was coming back to the village after a full day away, he saw something between the houses that should not have been there: a horse. Midoriya knew next to nothing about horses - there never were any in his village - but he thought it was an impressive horse, a good-looking horse. It was solid black, glossy and long-maned. He got close enough to it to see its dark eyes and hear the gentle huffs of its breathing. Then he realized it was wearing a saddle and bridle.

It hit him that it was someone's horse - and not only that, there was no owner in sight, and the horse was standing patiently outside of the houses. Outside of his house .

The horse's owner was inside his house.

Fear rose up his back and he felt the urge to run. But he wasn't going to run anymore - he couldn't stand to. He found a stick and held it like a club, took a deep breath, opened the door to his house, and rushed inside.

The person inside let out an inelegant squawk of surprise and jumped. "Wait!" he said. It was a boy, Midoriya noted with some surprise, not even a man. Probably not much older than he himself was. "I'm not… I'll leave!"

Midoriya still held the stick, panting, the blood pounding in his veins, but the fight was draining out of him quickly. He stared at the boy, too shocked to think of anything to say. He certainly wasn't anyone Midoriya knew; his hair was strange, two different colors, and although he had a sword at his hip, he had not drawn it.

"I knocked," the stranger said, moving around Midoriya towards the door. "I waited, too. I thought it was abandoned."

"No," Midoriya said at last.

"Yeah, I see that now," the stranger said. "I'll just be going."

"No," he said again. The boy stopped. Talk, Midoriya told himself. He'd spent so long having sheep as his only companions that suddenly his throat felt dammed up.

The stranger was staring at him, his gaze inscrutable. Something was off with his eyes, too, Midoriya realized. It's like he was two people, two halves. He wondered if the boy was a sorcerer, or if he was running from attackers. Talk, Midoriya told himself again, and this time he listened to his own command.

"You can stay, if you need somewhere to stay." The dam was split open, and the words came freely. "It's cold at night, sometimes, but I've gathered plenty of firewood, and patched up the holes in the walls, so even after the fire goes out it stays warm for a while. I've got a lot of blankets, too, more than I can even use. Do you need a place to stay? Are you running from something?"

The boy stared.

"I'm Midoriya," Midoriya said, about to extend his hand until he realized it still held the stick. He didn't drop it, just shifted it to his left hand and held out his right. The boy shook it, still staring.

"Todoroki."

"Let's go outside," Midoriya said, leading the way. They stepped out into the late-afternoon sunlight. The boy was still staring at him as if he was mad, and maybe he was. He couldn't stop talking. "Your horse is beautiful," he said. "It took me awhile to realize it was someone's horse. That's dumb, isn't it? My first assumption was that it was wild. But it looks way too healthy to be a wild horse. Are there even wild horses? There probably aren't. I've never seen one."

Todoroki stared at him, blinking his dazzling mismatched eyes in confusion or annoyance, Midoriya couldn't tell. Midoriya took a great shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. Please don't go. I don't know what to say. I haven't talked to anyone in - in a long - since -"

Todoroki stepped around him, to the horse. He reached under its belly, crouching for a moment, then stood and hoisted the saddle off its back. He made a low grunt as he carried the saddle, setting it down in the shade beside Midoriya's house.

Midoriya dropped the stick with a clatter.

"I'll stay the night," Todoroki said, removing the horse's bridle. The animal huffed gratefully, exhaling in a way that made its lips flap. Todoroki reached a hand up to scratch behind its ears. "Glad you changed your mind about using that stick on me."

Midoriya was struck dumb for a moment. Then he realized it was a joke. Todoroki was joking. He felt relief wash over him, so suddenly he felt almost nauseous from how quickly his terror had melted away.

"Thank you," he said. He wanted to say more, but he knew that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.

He heard a sheep bleating somewhere beyond the village. Thankful for the distraction, he turned and ran off towards it. "Make yourself at home!" he called out over his shoulder, not daring to look back.

xxxxxx

Part of him expected the traveler to be gone when he returned. Sure, he'd said he'd stay, but it wasn't like everyone always kept their word. He might have given it more thought and decided Midoriya wasn't trustworthy. Maybe he didn't want to stay with another person in the first place, and that's why he'd decided to stop at the seemingly-abandoned village. Midoriya wouldn't blame him, wouldn't be angry at him if he left. Wouldn't chase after him.

He didn't actually have anything he needed to do with the sheep, he'd just used the noise as an excuse to run away, a chance to gather his thoughts. He made his way to the river, stripped off his clothing and bathed. It was near dusk and getting a bit chilly, but Midoriya knew he stunk of sheep and sweat, and didn't want to disgust his guest.

His guest. There was another human nearby. Honestly, it didn't matter what kind of person was passing through: so long as it wasn't a violent one, Midoriya would have offered them shelter, food, anything to make them stay. It was just his luck that it was a fancy-looking person. It didn't make him any more or less grateful for the company.

He threw on his dirty clothes again - he hadn't had the foresight to grab clean ones - and made his way back, starting to shiver.

Midoriya was startled to see smoke coming out of his chimney, and laughed aloud. The boy really had followed his suggestion to make himself at home. He stopped in front of the house, where the horse was still standing, and let it sniff his hand. It seemed friendly enough, although the sheer size of it was frightening. Moving slowly, Midoriya reached a hand up and scratched behind its ear, the way he'd seen Todoroki do. The animal leaned towards him, into the touch, and Midoriya smiled.

He entered the house, exhaling with pleasure as warmth filled him. The fire Todoroki started was going strong, filling the house with its happy orange light, and the boy himself was sitting beside it. He was gazing up at the ceiling when Midoriya entered.

"None of the other houses have roofs," Todoroki said. "You made the roof?"

"Yes. Are you hungry?"

Midoriya made them dinner - vegetarian, because he hadn't caught any fish lately, but plenty filling nonetheless. Todoroki looked all around the house as the two of them ate. It wasn't a large house, so Midoriya wasn't sure what was holding his attention.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Midoriya said. "You can have the bed. Don't worry, I have enough blankets that it will still be comfortable enough for me." Had he been in Todoroki's position, he knew he would have protested, would have insisted on taking the floor himself; but Todoroki just nodded.

Midoriya sat on the ground, scooting closer to the fire. The dishes could wait for the next day, he decided. If Todoroki was only staying one night, he would not willingly leave his presence until then. He would regret it if he did. "Tell me about yourself," Midoriya said. "I'm curious." The flicker in Todoroki's face - the hesitation, the nervousness - told him this was a bad thing to say. "Or ask me about myself," Midoriya said instead. "I'll tell you anything."

"How long has it been since you've talked to someone besides me?"

"More than a month, but less than two months," he said. "I can't be more exact than that. I'm sorry."

"How did you find this place?" Todoroki asked. "Was it chance, or did you know about it?"

Midoriya looked at him a moment, surprise making him slow to find the words. He shook his head. "No," he said. "You don't… I didn't find it. I just…"

Realization dawned on Todoroki. Midoriya watched it happen, was able to see the boy's eyes go slightly wider, his forehead wrinkle in worry or pity. Saw his mouth open to say he's sorry. It shut before he spoke.

"Not everyone is dead," Midoriya said.

Todoroki only stared.

"The bodies," he said, trying to explain. "I tried not to look but the bodies. There weren't enough bodies. So not everyone is dead. Some are gone." He took a deep breath, hearing the catch of emotion in his voice. "I'm waiting for them."

"Oh," Todoroki said, and shifted away from him slightly.

Midoriya wasn't crying yet, but he could hear in his voice that it wasn't far off. "Look, I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry, I know you didn't expect… You wanted a house to stay in alone. I'm sorry." He clapped a hand over his mouth because if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to stop talking, and he would cry. It's only one night, he thought, who cares if a stranger sees me cry, but he didn't want him to, anyways.

Todoroki's face was blank, but he inhaled sharply, and it was like he'd made a decision. After a moment's pause, he leaned towards Midoriya and put his arms around him. The angle was awkward, because they were both sitting on the ground. Todoroki hugged with the stiffness of someone who didn't do it often. But the gesture itself made Midoriya's heart feel soft and sore, like a wound had been reopened. He completed the hug and pulled Todoroki against himself, felt the other boy stiffen and then relax. Midoriya held him tightly, pressing his face against Todoroki's shoulder.Don't you dare cry on your guest, he told himself, and when he felt the tears coming anyway, he pulled away.

Todoroki didn't say anything. Midoriya was glad of that. Words like "It's okay", while well-meant, probably wouldn't have helped him much. Todoroki's closeness, the sound of him breathing, the sight of his eyes and skin glowing orange with firelight, the indescribably human smell of him - it was all better than words.

"Thank you for dinner," Todoroki said at last, and the spell was broken.

"You're welcome." Midoriya got to his feet and divided the blankets between them. He hoped Todoroki doesn't mind that the bedding wasn't washed. It wasn't like Midoriya had known to expect guests.

"Your horse," Midoriya said, thinking of it out of the blue. "It's not tied up. Will it…"

"No, she won't run away," Todoroki said. "She's a good horse. She'll stay nearby."

Midoriya found his place on the floor. Todoroki stepped around him gingerly and lay down above him on the bed. He said nothing more, and from the sounds of his breathing, Midoriya could tell he fell asleep quickly.

Midoriya lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the other boy's steady breaths.

Only one night, he reminded himself. But to have another person be near him, talk to him, hug him… it felt like water on the lips of someone dying of thirst.