so i've noticed myself spoon-feeding you guys a lot of information/meta i deem important n stuff so this time i'll refrain from doing that and instead challenge those interested to pick a line and try to interpret it from characters' perspectives or see how it foreshadows anything. *finger guns*

Word Count: 4,846

The hours before dawn were the best time for departure. After all, there was hardly anyone alive willing to awaken when the moon set and travel through the darkest hour of the night, so the roads were delightfully empty, and one could move freely through the world.

It was apparently also a good time to drop off threats and warnings. Not that Present Mic could say he knew firsthand, but it was in that moonless hour when he was packed and ready to leave that he spitted someone lurking about the camp border. He furrowed his brow, struggling to make out any more than a silhouette. "Hey! You!" he called.

The darkened figure flinched, but recovered quickly enough to be out of sign by the time Present Mic could mount his horse and chase after them. Mic sighed, trotted his horse up to the camp entrance. He hoped to at least get a clue to the stranger's identity, and maybe he would, in the simple scroll left behind, hastily tied to a fence post.

Mic halted before it, staring at it for longer than he would have cared to admit, until his horse grew restless beneath him. He did have a duty to the country's people, to the ghosts Enji had left wandering. Yet, this anonymous weirdo dropped off a letter in the dead of night— that could not be good. Like, at all.

It wouldn't take long to deliver— he could just toss it onto Shouta's face and be on his way if anything— buuuut…

"Shouta! Hey, Shouta!"

Aizawa would never get used to the sound of Present Mic's screeching in the morning. He didn't have the opportunity for starters, and he didn't want to have the opportunity, thank you very much. But unfortunately, he was stuck with it for the time being, so he lazily cracked an eye open and half-assedly sat up before getting instantly smacked in the face with some scroll or whatever.

"There was a huge threat left at the entrance right now, but duty calls and I gotta go now, so byeeee!" Hurried skitters away. Distant humming. That was about all.

Aizawa blinked some sleep away knowing without a mirror his eye bags were fucking awful. Oh, today was not going to be pretty. "Should've left it with Hawks," he grumbled as he fumbled around with the scroll. He wasn't in charge. He didn't want to be in charge. That's why he was the mentor figure. Leading Shoto and Katsuki to where they were now had been exhausting and honestly took way more energy and emotional investment than he'd have ever anticipated, which was way too time consuming in it of itself. This was why he wasn't going to get married.

Hawks was a grown man, more or less. He could dad himself. He could read. Aizawa assumed. Then again, becoming literate was hard and tedious at best and he had neither knowledge nor interest in Hawks's upbringing and dammit, Mic had actually made a smart choice by giving this thing to the highest authority whom he could guarantee was literate. (Still didn't mean Aizawa had to appreciate it.)

It was still dark out, but Aizawa had exceptional night vision despite his sleep schedule. With only the dim starlight to guide him, he snapped up the short, rough proclamation from the enemy in a few instance, what little sleep still hazed around his mind rapidly dissipating. Was this what Hawks had meant by something happening tomorrow? A major battle with the enemy? He knew they were at a stalemate, but had he really been able to predict the exact date? Or perhaps it had to do with their arrival yesterday. Had Shoto's brother been holding out for exactly this? And if they had, how did they know?

Only one person could answer those questions.

"Hawks."

It had been a restless, endless night for Shoto, though he couldn't quite figure out why. Maybe it was for the same reason he found his thoughts drifting constantly back to Haku during the promotion ceremony. Maybe those thoughts were the reason. But then what was the reason? (Could it be connected to those chest pangs?)

But the reason mattered little. What mattered was that Shoto was awake at an ungodly hour, coincidentally just in time to hear Aizawa call General Hawks for who-knew-what. Because obviously quarter to four was the best time to discuss…

"What's going on? Nothing's s'posed to happen 'till five."

"We've received a warning."

"For battle? How courteous. Who's it from? Can't be Touya. I didn't realize he had legible writing."

…His brother?

Touya?

Well, sleep was for the weak, as Katsuki probably would have put it. Shoto was wide awake now. He sat up and brushed his bangs out of his eyes (Should he start putting it up?), struggling to process Hawks and Aizawa's dialogue as still more unfolded.

"I don't know who wrote it. I don't recognize the writing, and I don't know his writing anyway. Mic didn't specify who left it either, but I doubt he would have kept that from us even if he tried. Terrible chatterbox."

"Guess the time for battle has finally arrived. You guys showed up in the nick of time, huh? That's lucky. This one has been brewing in the atmosphere for a while now."

The pieces weren't fitting together in Shoto's mind. What had that ben just a moment ago, that offhand comment about Touya? He hadn't seen his brother in months, but he was sure Touya wouldn't be out here. Fighting them as an enemy. His older brother? The one who never truly stopped ruffling his hair? The one who snapped and spat at their father when he went too far? The one who had gone quiet for so long when their grandparents had taken his twin for their own?

Granted, Shoto had been young then, six years old and going on seven quite soon, but children see and understand more than they're accredited. Yes, Touya had been the grudging child. But, he had always been full of righteous fury. Would he have really…?"

"You need to tell Shoto before the battle begins. He'd have to get over it fast, but it's still better than letting him find out own his own. No one can afford to get caught off-guard when you've swallowed the taste of life or death."

Hawks audibly stretched and yawned. "I suppose," he said, though he didn't seem particularly concerned. For a moment, it sounded like he shook himself out, but then the footsteps began.

Shoto was trapped frozen to the spot. He didn't want to believe it— his brother couldn't possibly think this was right, could he? But now, he was going to have to, or else risk losing vital time on the battlefield.

Hawks abruptly poked his head into the tent, as seemed his habit. "Oh, you're up, kiddo," he cheerfully said, seemingly oblivious to Shoto's wide-eyed look of shock and denial. "Well, anyway. Listen, kiddo, this'll probably come as a shock to you, but, uh. Your brother's joined the war, which was almost cool and awesome, but he's sided against us, and we'll be going against him instead. Yeaaaah. We haven't been told exactly when, of course, but they were weirdly courteous enough to give us the heads-up. Sooo probably definitely sometime this morning. Juuuust thought I'd pay it forward."

The older man clicked his tongue and gave Shoto a grin that was painfully awkward, even for his standards, before popping out the same way he had popped in.

Shoto blinked several times, his mind finally getting a handle on what was going on.

His brother, part of the enemy.

A villain.

This was going to be a mess to figure out if they could get Touya back.

If.

If, if, if.

If all this was true. If he was to be active in battle. If they could get him back.

If, if, if.

There was only one way to steer that if into a when.

"Hapa says don't kill the lead fucker this time around. Capture him if you get the chance. Do not let him escape if you can help it. Any questions?"

Mumbles of "No, sir," rippled through the crowd. They were a small force, Kyouka realized now, but well-trained. Dedicated. Tightly-knit.

"I can't hear you," bitch-captain Bakugou snapped, his temper temporarily flaring through the apathy, and the soldiers shouted their response as onoe. "Good," he grumbled afterward. "Return here in half an hour to receive more information on our position and role. DISMISSED."

There was no shout of understanding after the dismissal, only immediate dispersal. If anything, it would be a waste of breath, and when you didn't know how long that breath would be in your lungs, you saved it for as long as you could.

Kyouka wove her way through the crowd, trying her best to survive the chaos surrounding the tents. It was the first battle they would be prepared for, both mentally and physically, but it was so soon after a scene change. No one was familiar with the setting, and it was showing now. It took all of Kyouka's evasive skills not to get trampled.

Once she was alone, she got to work. No binder today— she would need all the breathing room she could get. No one would have the time to notice, and the armor would help hide her anyway. Instead, she changed directly into her tunic, and as she adjusted the waist, she snatched up her chainmail with her foot and tossed it into her arms once done. When she began slipping that on, her body went on autopilot, and her mind went wandering.

Their last ambush had been a wild, stressful surprise. Yet, somehow, their fatalities had been low. Was it a testament to their skill and training? Surely the enemy troops had more experience than a pack of newly minted soldiers. It should have been like crushing a hatching egg to them. Had they simply lucked out? None had remained once that woman had been killed, but then again, Kyouka would have also fled if she had seen Captain Todoroki impaled before her eyes.

Don't you dare get killed, Denki.

Kyouka froze, accidentally replaying the memory in her head from surprise. The startlement in his eyes, the stillness in the air, seemingly frozen in time— even the early morning sunlight backlighting him (her heart ached now, knowing exactly what Momo had meant when she said it was her most useless moment) and the specks of dust floating through it, all of it flashing before her eyes as clear and true as reality.

But the moment was over as quickly as it began. Kyouka had to catch herself before she yelped aloud, but for other things, it was too late. Already, heat was rising to her face, the beat of her heart speeding tenfold. (what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fucking fuck fuck)

She slapped her cheeks twice to knock herself out of it (though it really didn't help), then sped through the rest of her dressing. (why now why now why now why now why now why now) The instant she was finished, she swept her thoughts aside, pushed her way outside, hoped to find her friends and clear her mind. It could prove to be fatal if she didn't.

"Oh, hey, Jirou!"

Case and point: the way she very literally crashed into someone because her mind was alight with an all-consuming buzz and she couldn't pay attention to anything. Her wish was granted though (albeit not in the way she wanted or expected), for when she looked up and saw Denki grinning down at her, her thoughts simply disintegrated.

"Uhh," she tried, taking a few steps back in an attempt to regain herself. Her stomach lurched and tumbled, but she swallowed thickly and pretended otherwise. "Good morning, fuzzbrain."

(why him why whim why him why whim why him why him)

"Was chatting with Captain Bakugou a couple seconds ago. He said I was manning cannons today, so I just wanted to promise not to be dumb and get myself killed before you could yell at me for it," said Denki cheerfully.

Something stopped Kyouka from forming a response of any sort. She was trapped, standing there. She must have looked like a fish, opening her mouth mutely only to close it again, and she almost found it funny, except.

Fuck.

She was scared.

"So, the woeful little pigeon comes back home again!" Hawks called across the invisible camp borders with a grin. "How unfortunate it should be, then, that he returns to find a hawk nested in his place!"

The man on the other side raised a lazy eyebrow at Hawks. Was that really Touya? The two hardly looked alike. Black hair, stitched scars, open, almost lazy posture— only their startling blue eyes were the same, though that alone was enough to convince Hawks. Eyes were the windows to the soul after all, and this man, this strange, scarred man, shared the same soul as the son of Endeavor he'd met all those years ago. It had a little more fire, a little more anger, but it was Touya's all the same. (But could he even still be called Touya? For a transformation this drastic, perhaps he'd given himself a new one for a better reflection.)

"Oh, but don't you remember?" the man drawled just loudly enough to be heard as he led his men ever closer. "This little bird has been burned into a phoenix."

Hawks hardened his gaze, stiffening ever so slightly as he signalled for his soldiers to brace themselves. "Is that so?" he loudly mused, sounding a lot more nonchalant than he felt. (The temptation to cross his arms when they stopped just shy of one another was damn near overwhelming.) "Well now, that's just tragic. After all, it's far easier to blow away a pile of ashes than a living bird. You haven't given up that easily, have you? Pity, but I suppose that's just the way it is on this bitch of an earth."

The enemy leader merely narrowed his eyes, paused as if contemplating a sufficiently scalding comeback. In the end, he remained silent, flicked the reins, and took a few steps back.

"Attack."

There was something different about this battle compared to the ambush before it, but Kirishima couldn't quite put his finger on what. Was it perhaps the open plain seemingly set aside for this purpose versus the hilly, tenty previous location? Was it because there everything had a build-up, devoid of that spur-of-the-moment dash into the fray? Neither explanation felt adequate, but everything aside from that felt exactly the same. It was just that one little tick that was off.

And as he seamlessly deflected an enemy sword before sinking his own into their chest, Kirishima knew what it was. The little worm of fear that lived for so long, as long as he could remember, eating away at his stomach, was there no more.

Kirishima grinned, revitalized by the realization. This was great. Maybe it had been the morning training that had killed it, maybe it had been Bakugou's compliment. Either way, he felt invincible. This, now, this was the high his grandfather would talk about for hours. The feeling of indescribable power, as if he were on top of the world—

His euphoria quickly took a plunge into his stomach when he dodged an enemy arrow by just a hair. (Phew, almost proved Grandma right just now.) Acid burned at his throat, at the base of his tongue, but instinct and muscle memory drove him forward without hesitation. Invincible? Okay, that had proven to be a stretch, but the fear which once consumed him from within was caged now. Not quite tamed, but under control, disallowed from interfering with his abilities.

He could do this. He could prove himself. He could make it out alive.

He was brave.

He would be worthy.

Child soldiers? Really? Of course, considering how early Shoto's training had begun, it was hard to be surprised. However, try as he might to sever any feeling but rage, Dabi couldn't help but to feel off-put by the number of boys fighting when some couldn't have been older than sixteen, tops. They were few and far-between, sure, but the frequency of it was still… something.

Take that blond kid over there. Any moron could see he wasn't any better than a scared, wet cat, hissing and spitting and swiping its claws in a feeble attempt to keep the hands reaching for it at bay. Dabi could have sympathized with him, empathized even, if he so cared to. The kid had spunk, sure, but he also couldn't have been older than his own brother. There was only so much one could pick up through training and experience. Time was always the best teacher.

Dabi slammed the flat of his blade into the helmet o a nearby soldier and allowed his horse to finish the job.

He had to admit, though, the blond cat-kid was putting up one hell of a fight against his soldiers. He was taking out as many as he could, more than Dabi could have feasibly expected of him despite being damn near surrounded. He wondered, was cat-kid powered by fear? Or by anger?

Cat-kid didn't drop the fury for even an instant, but Dabi could still sense something else in him. Whether it was the glint in cat-kid's eye when he received yet another fresh cut or the nuance of his posture, it was clearer than the day that cat-kid had more volatile emotion than what reasonably belonged on the battlefield.

Hmm. But did he care? No, not particularly so. If someone wanted to volunteer for service, then they could be slaughtered like rams, nevermind their age. Cat-kid would just be another casualty, another life vanishing into the ground like a drop of rain in a storm. Nothing special.

Dabi moved on to other things.

"Fuck." Katsuki spat both word and dirt from his mouth. A thin trickle of blood from his forehead ran down the bridge of his nose. His dusty cheeks were scraped badly from many narrow dodges and missed hits, his hands raw from gripping his sword.

He was in a pinch, that much was for sure. He wasn't above admitting it, but like hell was he going to look for help. He was good. He was strong. Stronger than all of them. Only Hapa could match his skill, as much as he hated to admit it at times.

But, as one violently jerked elbow dug into his side, knocked him off-balance, and into another enemy's rough shove, he was faced with a realization that almost physically pained him to admit: he needed help. He really did. At some point, he'd grown overconfident with his prowess. If he wanted to survive, he had to kick himself down a peg and admit he needed better defenses.

He seethed, teetering on the edge of seeing red. They were backing hi into a corner, taunting him with the fact that if he tried to hack his way out of it, he'd lose something along the way. Grinding his teeth, Katsuki adjusted his grip on his sword and assessed the situation.

He was out of cannon range, so he couldn't be saved by dumb ol' fuzzbrain. His midget friend was too small, too stubborn. Peony was a joke to even consider. The rest of the trainees, well, he hadn't bothered with the most of them, and quite frankly, a load of them were probably shit in this situation anyway. There was nobody within earshot whom he could work well with, but a ways away, he could see it, that shock of spiky red hair bobbing in the distance. Bingo.

Katsuki near grinned as he impaled the first soldier immediately between himself and Kirishima, purposefully ignoring the loud clang! an enemy hit made against his back and the quick burst of pain that came with it. Well, they sure were trying their darndest not to let him escape without losing something, but Katsuki sure as fuck wasn't going to let that be his life.

He crashed (and very nearly burned) his way over to Hairbrain, knowing better than to carve a path of destruction there (but that didn't mean he couldn't cut down one or two anyway). "Oi!" he called through gritted teeth, a drop of either blood or sweat rolling down his forehead. "You shitty Hairbrain!"

Before Katsuki had even finished calling out for him, Kirishima whipped his head in his direction, that stupid, careless smile plastered all over his face again. Katsuki bashed in the last soldier between them as the redhead ducked behind his shield (scaring the former for a split second before he had time to assure himself, he wasn't going to hurt an ally, he could trust this dumb, shitty-haired bastard). "Bakugou!" he damn near chirruped, but Katsuki didn't even care by that point.

Heck, he had a hard time holding in a relieved grin himself. "Shut the fuck up and cover my back, Kirishima," he said, despite the act that the two of them were already naturally gravitating into that position anyway.

"Understood, sir!" Now this? This felt good. It was comforting almost, to fall into a particular rhythm with someone, to nakedly trust his blind side to them, to know that, as a team, there was no one they couldn't beat. No more of that shitty fear of death.

That grin scratched its way onto Katsuki's face, and he let it.

Denki was not the best with repetitive tasks, especially ones that involved a lot of staying in the same place. His mind liked to wander, and he'd often slip up and do something really stupid. Except this time, there was no Mama to sweep him up and bring him back home when he wandered too close to the water's edge. There was no Jirou to tackle him and keep him from blowing his head off when he zoned out for two seconds too long.

It helped a bit that cannoneering required sharp focus and aim to keep as many allies out of the blast as possible, but that slowly became insignificant as the motion of lighting the fuse and bracing for the explosion happened over and over again, grinding away at his sanity and focus. His brain was being filled poff by poff with cotton balls, and his muscles were starting to tingle with boredom, begging him to do something else.

Except he couldn't.

He was stuck stretching repeatedly, each less satisfying than the last, begging his brain to keep going, keep going, keep going, please please please don't wander off on him he had to keep this going he wasn't going to die here not with all the thing he had left to say not with this dumb war keeping him from saying them.

His weary eyes scanned the thinning crowd in front of him, kept on sharp lookout for anyone sporting an enemy emblem, but strangely enough, he caught nothing. Was the madness finally getting to him?

A hand clapped his shoulder, and Denki had to actively hold in a sharp cry of surprise. His flint cracked together rapidly in his trembling hand as he pivoted to meet the stranger. However, he was met with an amused laugh, which both confused and terrified Denki when he saw the man, whose armor told him general (but whose behavior told him dickweed older brother).

"Hey, kiddo," the man said, sounding oddly chipper for someone supposedly leading a battle. "We chased them off. You're not gonna find any more Huns in that crowd, so you can calm down now. Chill out, get some dinner— we got a fresh shipment of greens, and deer roam the woods nearby, so there's that to look forward to. I'm assuming you haven't eaten since dawn? Kid, it's close to sundown. You should really get something in your stomach. Can't have you fainting on your first day."

Denki stared at him, most of what had just been said going in one ear and out the other. He wanted to pay attention, he really did, it was just. Hard. Right now. Too much had happened, but at the same time, not nearly enough. Too much to process, listening was hard. Fainting was Haku's thing.

The man didn't even try to hide his amusement at Denki's facial expression. "Yeah, first battles'll do that to you. Just get something to eat and a good night's rest." He patted the blond almost fondly, which was weird on its own because this man was shorter than him seriously was this the general? But alas, Denki's thought processing power had dipped into the negatives by then, leaving him incapacitated a little while longer as the stranger sauntered away.

Momo wanted to scream. So much had gone on that day, and she had held it in for so, so long, to the point where all the stress piling up in her gut now threatened to claw its way out through her throat.

But, of course, she couldn't. She had to control herself, there were people nearby, there was no way she could scream without someone coming in to check on her. In her vulnerable state, she just couldn't do it, she had her secrets to keep, secrets she'd drag to the grave.

Every fiber of her being trembled with stress as she paced circles around her bedroll. The one creature in all of existence to whom she could allow herself to break down sat in its center, blinking calmly at her with a cricket perched on her shoulder, patient as ever to let Momo get it all out.

"I just— Uraraka, there was so much happening and, and it was hard not to let my thoughts get in the way of everything, I—…" Momo half choked, her heavily cracked voice threatening to crumble beneath the weight of her words. She stared at her hands, scraped and cut and dirtied from the day. Thoughts raced through her mind, but each was too fleeting to catch.

Overwhelmed, her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell to the floor, face cradled in her hands.

Immediately, claws scratched and scraped against the ground as the tiny dragon galloped over, worming her way onto Momo's lap with startling force and settling there. "Shhh," she whispered as the girl's tears threatened to spill over. "It was hard, I know. Take the time to articulate your thoughts properly and give names to all that you're feeling, then we can focus on getting through it, okay? Trust me, I'm a dragon."

There had been an iron clamp clenched around her chest, but Momo hadn't noticed it tightening until all at once, it was loose again, and for a moment, she could breathe perfectly. Then her sinuses swelled from all the sniffling and crying, but that didn't hurt. She pulled her face out of her hands, ignoring the dirt stained tears left behind, and let all the nebulous unease settle down.

"I couldn't stop thinking about that woman from the ambush," she admitted, her voice thin and hollow, almost defeated, and they let the words hang in the air for a while. "She knew so quickly, so easily who I am. I just couldn't help but to think about that in battle. Did anyone we fought today know, too? Surely if they knew, then it's only a matter of time before someone here figures it out." She closed her eyes and let out a steady breath. "Why hasn't anyone here figured me out yet?"

"I don't know, so I can't tell you that," Uraraka admitted, not unkindly, "but I'm sure you'll make it out of this mess just fine." Deku cricket chirped in agreement, bouncing up and down as he did so.

The silence that followed went on for what felt like eons. Momo sighed, scooping up Uraraka so that she could crawl back to her bedroll and put the lantern out.

"See you in the morning, Yaomomo."

author's note xiv. so uh. sorry this is late. i did technically finish this last week but i was also upset with that version because i felt like there was something Deeply Wrong with it, so i pulled it out and edited it. which is a hardcore thing to do for me like up until now pretty much everything you guys see has been the first and final draft but. yee. fun fact bakugou's perspective is the least altered from the original.

school starts friday :c but i don't mind bc i get out after fourth period so lots of time to work on college apps yay.

it's been so long since i've babbled about my life in an a/n i've been so preoccupied with explaining stuff. and i'm the one who's always harping on about how readers are smart shame on me lol. sooo yeah! thank you for reading and being patient. and for the lack of todomomo this time around. the next couple chapters are kind of a doozy, so i'm sorry if they take a while again. but yee follow/fave if you're new, leave a review if that's what you're into, and as always, have a greaaaat daaaayy~~