Word Count: 4,560

Katsuki trotted up to the group with a scowl upon his face, though he couldn't deny that he, too, was unsettled by how absolute the destruction of Endeavor's army had been. He ran his hand again over the cold, blackened helmet in his arms, knowing he'd have to at least present it to the dumb halfling with some semblance of grace, since it was the last remnant of the bitch's father (regardless of how sour of a relationship they may have had). There was no mistaking the red dyed feather atop the metal helmet, charred as it may be: it had definitely belonged to General Endeavor.

"Oi," he said, his voice scratchy and his throat burning with all the smoke inhalation. "Got something for you, Ha… Shoto."

God damn scrub dared blink at him in confusion. As if he weren't one to refer to him by name ever. Which wasn't true! (Katsuki thought back to the last time he really did refer to Hapa by his given name and found himself drawing a blank.) Okay, maybe he really didn't call anyone by name (except Kirishima. Sometimes. On a good day.), but for fuck's sake, couldn't he have at least had the courtesy not to look so damn surprised?

Beyond the captain, Peony gawked at him with eyes like a koi fish. Did none of them have courtesy?

Katsuki shoved the helmet at Hapa and scowled. No, apparently not. Nobody had any damn manners around here, and by god was he not going to use them either if that was the case. "I don't think you want to see the rest of him," he grunted, then turned his horse around to inspect more of the remains. (Maybe there was a survivor or two, but he doubted it.) Someone called out to him, but he stubbornly ignored it until he rode up behind him anyway.

"Hey, Bakugou, you okay, man?" the concerned voice of Kirishima Hairbrain asked, annoyingly going straight through all of Katsuki's mental barriers. How the fuck he managed to do that, he'd never know, but maybe it would be a good thing. Katsuki held in a sigh.

"I'm fine," he grunted. Obviously, Hairbrain didn't believe him, catching right up to him in the blink of an eye.

"If you say so," he said, and oh? Was he really just going to take it just like that? Okay then. They rode together in silence, Katsuki occasionally picking at weird, charred lumps in the ground, but never turning up anything more alive than a scorched leaf. "Don't just sit there and watch, dumbass," he grumbled at last. "Help me."

Kirishima dropped the glum expression for a moment in exchange for an inkling of a grin. "Got'chu, captain," he said. He flicked the reins and wandered a few meters away to poke around.

Katsuki blinked twice and shot him a brief glance. Back to just captain, huh? He wasn't too sure how to feel about that.

Well, whatever.

Shoto stared at the piece of armor now in his possession, sick to his stomach with a confusing cocktail of not good. Was this really it? Was this really the last he had of his father? What had he even said last to the man? The best Shoto could pull up was a half-assed, annoyed grunt, but those hadn't even been words.

Why did he care so much? Why was he feeling this bad? Since the day he'd been left alone to manage boot camp, he'd put such a show on before Aizawa and Bakugou about how shitty of a dad he had. (No, not a show; his father really had sucked.) Was it grief? Was it shock? Was it simple human empathy? Regardless of how much he had hated his father, he had begrudging respect for the man's skills, some form of attachment to him.

"A century of human life is like a dream…"

Shoto looked up, a lump forming in his throat when he saw it was Haku who had begun singing in his high, thin, little voice.

"…Life and death occur; heroes have no regrets."

Jirou joined in, as did Kaminari soon after. Shoto bit his lip, a mystery pot brewing in his belly.

"Protect my homeland, show off my nation's pride…"

The song caught on like wildfire among the troops, each melancholic voice rising to pay tribute to the late General Endeavor. His father.

Shoto slid off his horse as they continued, staggering over to an empty space in the front of the battlefield. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it, but he paused just before he went through. Something, that not-so-little part of him, whispered to kick the helmet off the edge of a cliff, to disregard his father's life as insignificant, to honor all the poor soldiers he had doomed instead. The man deserved it, after all. Marrying to force the stars in his favor, neglecting his children, leaving a trail of bloody madness in his wake— none should respect someone who had done any of those things (let alone all), no matter how good of a general they were or how many battles they won for the nation.

…But had he not still been human? Did someone such as his father not deserve the last dignity of a proper burial?

Shoto swiftly pulled his sword from its sheath and sank its blade deep within the crumbly, ashy earth. He very nearly threw the helmet atop it for his father's memorial, but he forced himself to be in control. He gingerly balanced it on the hilt of his sword, giving it an almost ghostly appearance in the smoky air.

His eyes stung as he stared at it, his nose and cheeks scrunching up as that mystery stew of emotions in his gut began to boil over. He hated this. He hated crying. He hated being emotional. He hated that his father had instilled those feelings within him, told him it was a sign of weakness which he must never show.

A firm, comforting hand landed on his shoulder, knocking a few salty tears out of Shoto's eyes involuntarily. "It's all right," Aizawa-sensei said in a low, gruff voice. "Just let it out. I'm sure we'll untangle all this later. Just let it out for now. Crying is normal and healthy."

(Maybe it was, but Shoto still hated doing it.)

Kyouka knew it hurt Momo to see Captain Todoroki like that, standing before his father's makeshift grave as silent tears streamed down an angry expression. The way her voice faltered just a little whilst singing was enough to tell. Knowing Momo, she probably wanted to run over to him and feed him all the comfort she had to offer and to make them both better.

But that would not be for the better. Feelings were messy, and though Kyouka had no idea what was going on in the captain's head, she knew any intervention could confuse him further. So when she noticed Momo start ever so slightly for the captain, she reached out and put her hand on Momo's shoulder. Their eyes met for all of a second, and Kyouka shook her head. No, you shouldn't.

A tiny sigh escaped her best friend, but the atmosphere wouldn't let Kyouka cash in on the smugness of being right.

As Momo turned aimless once the song was over, Kyouka found herself wondering. What would they be doing now? She had never known of any other plan other than the one to merge with Endeavor's army. Did that mean they were directionless now? Were they but a wandering army? How would that work? She had no idea how any of this army thing worked; she was from a farming family, for goodness' sake! Why they would ask for soldiers outside the military families was beyond her. All she knew was that they trained and went off to battle.

(Granted, it never occurred to her that armies had to actually go places to battle, but shhh…)

She cast a sideways glance at Momo. She should know, right? Kyouka opened her mouth to ask, but Bakugou returned from the plains.

"Set up camp on the outskirts of the battlefield," he barked to all those present. "Funeral pyres need to be built and burnt tonight, so hop to it, you dumb eggs." With a scowl, he rode away again, presumably to tell more people.

Kyouka shut her mouth an exhaled through her nose. Oh well. She'd just have to find out on her own. Not that she'd have to wait long anyway. It was looking like they were going to find out fairly soon.

The growing handfuls of dog tags were starting to frighten Kirishima. If he thought the thin fistful from the morning's ambush was a lot, then he guessed he just had to shed some of that naiveté. He paused to try and cram a few more into his pockets, but a delicate wind brushed against his cheek, prompting him to look up and take in the grey landscape.

Was this really the sort of thing his grandfather used to harp on about? Sure, maybe the heat of battle could be terrifically exhilarating in the moment, but what about the cold leftovers? The chill an empty battlefield sent down one's spine, the swirling chaos of unease reflected in the sky, the buried sorrows and regrets left in the grey ashes? Kirishima suddenly wasn't so sure this as the best route to proving himself.

Bakugou came over, the reins of his own and Kirishima's horses in hand. "You shouldn't bother. There were thousands of them. Too many to make a difference," he said, and Kirishima turned to face him, bundles of dog tags clattering all the while. "Go set up for the night. We have a fuck ton of pyres to build and burn tonight." He crammed Riot's reins into Kirishima's spare hand.

Kirishima chewed the inside of his cheek and spent a moment watching him mount up and leave again. With a massacre's worth of bodies, no, he supposed he couldn't even make a dent in that. He clutched the bundle already in his hand. But with what he had, maybe he could spare a few of the anxiety. Just a few less hungry ghosts taking the years long traipse back home, a few more families given closure, that was all he needed.

He picked one last tag up and carefully added it to the bundle before emptying them all into one of Riot's saddlebags.

He made a difference to that one.

It almost made Aizawa nervous how much Shoto was relying on him for guidance again now that everything had fallen through. Like, dang it, kid! No, adults did not have a book about what to do in any possible situation under the sun given to them when they turned twenty! He was really just making this up as he went along. (More so now than earlier, but there had been winging it going on since he set foot in camp.)

That's why he chose to keep the letter he found in the remains of the general's tent from the boy. At first, he'd assumed it was outgoing, probably telling Shoto to shape up and ship out already, but he ended up dumbfounded upon further investigation.

It seemed the elder Todoroki brother, the one whose name Aizawa didn't know and had been burned out from the letter, had run away from home over a month ago now, leaving the household with neither head nor heir. Aizawa knew nearly nothing of Shoto's familial relationships, only that he favored his mother and sister. Considering how temperamental the boy could be about his father, Aizawa thought it best not to say anything. Instead, he divided the letter into pieces and hoped Shoto wouldn't pay it too much mind. After all, it would be hard to find other paper on a battlefield that had been incinerated.

Aizawa shot Shoto a sideways glance when he heard a sniffle, concerned. The boy's eyes were bloodshot from crying, but his brow was still furrowed with barely concealed anger and frustration.

"You know," the older man began slowly, "You don't have to forgive Enji for anything you don't want to. To bury him as both a general and your father is an obligation, but to honor him as such is not."

"I guess," Shoto replied, not looking up from his folding.

"Putting names to feelings might help get rid of them."

"Gross," Katsuki said as he walked in. "I heard 'feelings'."

"Sounds like you've got something to talk about," Aizawa dryly noted, peering over his shoulder at the angrier of his students. Katsuki just stared.

"I think the fuck not," he said, turning around. "I'm gonna go light some stuff on fire. Hairbrain's got an assload of ID tags. Dunno what you'd do with them, but whatever."

Aizawa let him leave. Katsuki was a tough kid (or at least he liked pretending to be one), and cracking open his shell wasn't something he found important at the moment. The tags now, well. He'd need records to know where to send them, but they were good to have.

Shoto looked up for the first time since walking onto the battlefield. "Can I take the ID tags for something after this?"

Aizawa stood up for a moment and stretched. "Do whatever you want, kid," he grunted. "I'm not the boss of you." The sky was cloudy, and what little light that came through was dimming rapidly. Aizawa settled back down. Days like this always made him so tired.

If you catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, you can save it for a rainy day.

Of course, Itsuka had never been one for such childish whimsy, but it was still kind of fun to think about when the night held a meteor shower. So many twinkling lights set in the sky were coming loose and coming down; it was quite the sight to behold.

Maybe the stars would be rearranged after this? A different fate to be foretold for her, one with less waiting? Those feng shui masters did know an awful lot, but maybe there was hope for her yet. Itsuka felt a smile tug at her lips as she sat in a window frame, staring at the sky with a letter in hand.

She'd be seeing Camie again soon, it seemed. Too bad Momo couldn't come, though Camie mentioned she hadn't heard from the girl in what felt like forever either. Itsuka's expression faltered for a moment as something took root in the back of her mind.

She was starting to feel as if Momo wasn't actually at home…

One by one, mounds of kindling went up in flames, each one representative of at least a few of General Endeavor's soldiers. Momo watched each one immolate with a tired sense of satisfaction. Long hours had been put into making all of them, and she was simply glad those soldiers hadn't died with nothing.

Next to her, Kyouka kicked back and rested her head on Momo's shoulder. "That was something," she simply commented.

"Yup," Momo replied, glancing upwards to see a few streaks zip across the sky. The souls of the departed were leaving the earth. "I wonder where we'll be going after this."

"I dunno," Kyouka said with a half-assed shrug. "You're the one with the military name. You're smart. Figure it out and tell me, will ya?"

"We're probably going to head toward the enemy's main base, but where that is specifically, I don't know."

"Guess we'll find out in the morning."

Momo watched one final pyre catch fire, a single, hastily made, white paper lotus sitting atop it as Shoto stood nearby and stared. A moment later, Kirishima approached him, his expression somber as he handed off a fat saddlebag. Shoto nodded, and the two parted ways.

How curious. Momo got up to follow him, ask what was up, but Kyouka clung to her arm.

"Broooo," she drawled, "I'm leaning on you! You can't just leave now!"

"Lean on Denki," Momo said.

"He's too far! I don't wanna walk."

"I'm going to talk to Sho… the captain."

Kyouka glanced up at her, a near-drunken grin on her face. "Mmmkay then," she said, letting go with a sly look. "Go have your fun then."

"And you have yours."

Kyouka gasped with mock exaggeration. "I can't believe the filthy words that have just come out of your mouth."

Momo paused and looked back at her, confused. "I just repeated what you said…?"

"Nevermind." Kyouka gave her one final pat on the arm before hurrying away.

.

.

She found him by the river, the saddlebag apparently filled to the brim with dog tags, and Shoto was sitting there, gently cleaning them with a rag one by one. Momo stopped dead when she realized this, simply watching him work in the faint starlight.

He seemed to sense her staring from a distance and paused. "You don't have to stay there in the dark. If you want to help then just come over," he said, his voice barely audible from where she stood.

Momo crept over, grateful both that she hadn't yet removed her armor and that there was hardly any moon that night because she hadn't bothered with a binder that day. She knelt down next to Shoto and gingerly picked up one of the tags he had set aside.

"Kosei Tsuburaba," she read aloud, then flipped it over to find their own division number on the back. A rock wedged itself between her throat and her vocal cords, but Shoto somehow managed to voice her thoughts.

"He was killed in the ambush today," he said evenly, his expression unreadable. "There's about half a dozen more, but that's it. We did well."

Momo swallowed the imaginary stone with some difficulty. "Then the rest of these…?"

"Were my father's soldiers, yeah. Not many. Just over a hundred, looks like." He set aside another tag, and Momo was afraid to check the soldier's division. Shoto noticed and paused, sending her a glance. "That one wasn't one of us," he assured her, then picked another one from the bag.

Momo felt the lump rise in her throat yet again, but she did her best to push it down. War was war, after all. People died. She could only hope she would not be among that statistic. She plunged her hand into the bag and drew out one of the clunky IDs, bloodied and scorched beyond recognition.

Next to her, Shoto set aside yet another cleaned tag, picking out a new one without a word. "You don't have to clean it all the way," he said after a spell, "Just enough to get the blood off and be readable. I don't want their families to feel even worse when they see the blood."

Unsure of how to feel, Momo turned her attention away from the captain and pulled out a clean rag of her own. She dipped the tag into the chilly river water, rubbing gentle circles in an attempt to get the dirt out. (Well, at least her bridal training had some use way out here.) When she finished the best she could, she set it aside and said, "I really don't like blood."

"Neither do I," Shoto murmured as he handed her another one. "When I was a kid, my father would yell at me because I couldn't even kill a rabbit. Maybe he was training me, but…" There was a barely audible shift in the intensity of his scrubbing. "That shouldn't excuse anything."

Momo thought back to the paper lotus on the pyre and wondered if he had even been the one to make it.

"But you get used to it, I guess." He calmed down and paused to stare up at the sky.

Momo faltered for a moment, taking a second to simply feel the weight of the tag in her hand and make it fully real in her mind. "I don't think it's because you were scared back then. You just couldn't bear to! An innocent life like that doesn't deserve to be caught in the brutal nature of one man."

She could feel Shoto peering at her, but she did her best to ignore the fluttering it gave her. "You don't deserve to be here," he said softly, and her whole body ran cold. "You may be a tiger, but your soul is too gentle for your spirit." A smile seemed to tug at his lips as he returned to their task. Momo's heart pounded against her sternum at the temporary scare. "You would make a great general, Haku."

Momo's heart soared with joy at the compliment whilst her stomach simultaneously churned with guilt at her lies. "Thank you," she replied as neutrally as she could, setting aside another cleaned tag.

Together, they worked into the night with silent streaks of light dancing through the sky.

Denki stared intently at the last glowing embers of a pyre, little worms of light still wriggling in the dirt. His right shoulder was heavy with the weight of a half-asleep Jirou's head; his entire arm was no longer in his possession, having been stolen for cuddles by said sleepy Jirou. On the opposite side of the fire, Kirishima was locked in an arm wrestling match with Tetsutetsu, both caught in a stalemate they couldn't win, but neither backing down for even an instant. It was a moment to remember for sure, the oddly comfortable setting something he wanted to cling to forever.

It was just one of those nights. Some retired early, wanting to end the nightmarish day as soon as possible in hopes that they may have a sweet dream. Others stayed to pay their respects to all of the soldiers because they couldn't bear the thought of being cremated alone. But Denki? Of the select few still out in the hours of the mouse, he was sure he was the only one left wide awake.

It was just one of those nights. The kind where you toss and turn but can't become comfortable. The kind where you lie there with your eyes closed but can't become anything less than a half-conscious dream. The kind where your stomach is empty but your mind is full, and you can't help but to listen to each passing thought.

It was just one of those nights. Too much had happened that day, there was too much to think about, and Denki could be an insomniac. Of course, if he wanted to sleep outside, he at least had a cute guy cuddled up next to him. That would surely help.

"Say, Denki," Jirou said with a yawn, "Today really was somthin', huh?"

"Yeah," he replied softly, not wanting to wake him too much.

Jirou settled and let out a long, soft exhale. "My cousin's s'posed to get married one of these days soon. Ionno which one specifically, since I've lost track of the days, but I wonder how she's doing."

Denki hummed, holding in the urge to rest his head on Jirou's. "I hope it goes well."

"Why wouldn't it?" Jirou half-scoffed. "She's so pretty. Caught the eye of a boy on his way to become a scholar a few years back. He asked her when the stars were right, no matchmaker necessary." His grip on Denki's arm loosened, and let out with a nearly inaudible sigh, "I've always wanted somethin' like that for myself."

Something tugged at Denki's heartstrings with that. He knew all too well the younger boy was simply loose-lipped with exhaustion, but that didn't erase how nice it felt to hear him say things like that. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

"I can do it myself!" Jirou snapped, but all its venom had been sapped by weariness.

"I'm sure you can," Denki evenly replied, "but then you'd wake and not fall asleep again when you do find your tent."

"I guess," Jirou mumbled, and his head crashed back against Denki's shoulder. The blond gently pulled his arm out of Jirou's clutches and slipped the other beneath his legs to pick him up. As Jirou put his arms around Denki's neck out of sleepy instinct, the latter marveled at how light the boy was, even considering his size.

Jirou's head nestled up against his shoulder, Denki nodded to Tetsutetsu and Kirishima (the latter of which grinned in encouragement) and started his stumble through the dark.

"I'm glad you didn't die," Jirou murmured into the night, barely audible even in the quiet, his dark eyes already slipped shut. His breathing deepened and steadied; he had fallen fast asleep.

Denki half smiled to himself. He fell to his knees, having found Jirou's tent, and crawled inside. He laid Jirou down as gingerly as he could, drew a blanket over him, but afterwards, he still lingered by his side.

Even the shroud of darkness could not obscure the fine, delicate features of the one he loved. It was almost breathtaking the way he looked with neither a scowl nor a glare marring his face, wonderful in its serenity. Oh, what Denki wouldn't give to see this every day for the rest of his life.

His lips hovered just shy of Jirou's smooth forehead, hesitant to push forward. He was asleep and would never know, sure, but if this was the only way Jirou would even remotely consider allowing a kiss, was it really something he wanted? He wasn't here for the act of it, just the emotions it conveyed.

Jirou rolled over in his sleep. Denki's lips barely brushed against his ear, and he froze for all of a minute because of it.

Eventually, he backed away, chewing his lip in a lesser attempt to satiate his longing as he gave Jirou one last glance before exiting the tent to feel the cool night breeze. He stared at the sky from the outside, watched a few stars fall from the heavens as he thought of Jirou's last words.

Heh. He smiled wanly to himself, fighting a yawn as it rumbled in his throat. He thought it would be just one of those nights, but perhaps the night was changing.

The yawn came, loud and strong despite his will. Rubbing his eyes, Denki fumbled over to his own tent and fell gracelessly to the floor, fast asleep before his head even touched the ground.

Author's Note xii. i realize the last segment probably had sexual undertones to it but i promise that these kids are pure of heart and that anything that isn't a blatant dick joke is not intended to be sexual in any way.

I was originally planning on being done with orchid by the end of june QwQ. Now here we are nearing the end of july and I'm pretty sure I'll be working on orchid into the school year. Which starts in like three weeks. Yippee. I actually have a fantasy au I wanted to start publishing this month after orchid finished but guess that publishing date's getting pushed back lol. It's whatever, I haven't worked in it since january.

Hadn't planned on developing the kiribaku nearly as much as I have been in this fic but you know what that's okay. when i first came into this i had exactly one major moment for them planned (hence why i originally classified them as background) but it's kind of taken a life of its own since then and it's fun!

"dumb eggs" comes from the insult 笨蛋. Exactly what it says on the tin: "stupid egg". I have -3 knowledge on actual chinese swears bc my parents don't curse, so it's like calling someone stupid in english: common to the point of pretty much no meaning. I picked it over 'dimwits' because one, "dumb eggs" sounds more fun and two, to have such a mild insult come from baku means a bit more since he takes out the big guns all the time.

anyway yeah! whoo. actually finished this up this morning. wrote most of it in the last two days. i really didn't want to skip another week and my plans are super vague and mushy for the next few chapters but ideally i'm going to clean that up into something neat and i can know where to go more clearly yay. soo yep!

oh, but before i go i actually have a question for you guys! are there any songs that this fic reminds you of or vice versa? i need some fresh stuff to listen to while writing hahaha. anyway, thanks for reading, follow/fave if you're new, leave a review if that's what you're into (regardless of the actual age of the chapter it would be greatly appreciated -u-), and as always, have a greaaaaaat daaaaayyyy~~~