Word Count: 3,328

Only three things cannot be hidden for long.

Touya was used to waking up before dawn to get his chores done, and just because he was Dabi now didn't mean he had to break all his old habits. It was coming in handy now, as the elder Todoroki sat sipping tea near his brother's tent, the chilly morning air nipping at his bare skin and making him shiver. The world had just begun to stir, but most everything was still too tired to make a sound. The atmosphere, in a word, was frigid.

The tent flap rustled behind him, but Dabi didn't bother turning around before he said, "Nice to see you awake at this hour." He took a sip of tea without breaking eye contact, then grinned as his younger brother, still disoriented from sleep, squinted at him. "I mean, cat-kid sounded like he knew what he was talking about with you needing to go to bed at a reasonable time."

Shoto stared at him blankly. "Katsuki?"

Huh. So that was his name. Too bad for him that cat-kid was too much fun. "Yeah, whatever," Dabi continued, waving off his brother's interjection. "Anyway, was he talking from experience there? Like, the dog tag thing, has it happened before with that one guy?"

It took a second for Shoto to register the fact that Dabi was waiting for an answer. "Haku?" he asked, still staring dumbly down at his brother.

Was that a first name? Didn't realize he had it in him good job, kiddo. "I don't know, bro; I just saw you guys last night doing the thing with the dog tags and stuff and found it kind of funny," Dabi drawled, and he noticed Shoto's expression subtly shift: his eyebrows furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowed as they shifted off to the side, and a corner of his mouth tugged downward almost imperceptibly.

"It's just a thing we do," he said. "We've both gotten better at cleaning, and he always keeps track of the time so that we can get adequate rest anyway, and it's just courtesy. I don't think Mom would want to see our names come home in blood."

Dabi internally sighed. While yes, Shoto had a perfectly valid point, he was also missing his marginally less valid point. (Of course, now was as good a time as any to be dramatically reminded of Sho-sho's piss-poor ability to pick up on hints.) "Mom does deserve better, you're right—" (He didn't feel it right to say everyone who died deserved better; the words latched themselves to his throat and would not let go, so he moved on without them) "—but I don't know. I just thought there was something to the way you interacted with… Haku, was it?"

Shoto slowly pivoted so he could leave, and Dabi knew then that he hit on something. Brilliant.

But—

"Oh, you're both here. Fucking superb, you dumbass little Todorokis."

Hawks manifested at that exact moment. Dabi scowled as the shorter man cracked that ditzy grin at them, but to no avail.

"Remember that meeting I told you guys about yesterday? The one where we talk about the information Dabi has to formulate our next move?"

"No," both Shoto and Dabi answered in unison, but Hawks kept babbling about it anyway.

"Yeah, that's happening now in the strategy tent. You guys are kind of important."

Dabi side-eyed his brother. Foiled yet again, but there would be other days.

The sun

Guilt was a fish that swam in Kirishima's belly. He didn't feel it so much these days— the atmosphere and camaraderie helped a lot— but it still snuck up on him sometimes, in ways he somehow never foresaw.

The source this time?

Jirou.

(And Denki too, to some degree, since it was his secret that had been betrayed while he was asleep.)

But really, as he watched Jirou pull Haku away when Denki joined the group, Kirishima would say he pitied Denki more. He definitely had mixed feelings, but then again, it was a messy situation, all thanks to his dumb impulse.

Denki's expression slipped from excitement into confusion as he watched their other friends walked away, and Kirishima watched him with the hollow nausea of guilt whirling in his chest. Telling Jirou was a mistake.

He seemed skittish today, and his attempts at acting normal made him unnerving. Kirishima knew exposing Denki's crush would be a hit to the face, but he had thought Jirou would have taken it in stride and adapted to it by now. That's what he always did, after all; Jirou usually kept a clear head despite the circumstances.

Kirishima sighed. His internal monologue weighed too heavily on him; he didn't even realize he was done packing.

"You okay, man?" Denki asked. Kirishima bit his tongue as he turned to see the blond just in front of him, a look of concern on his face. "You seem out of it today. I mean, you're normally the one who gets so excited about moving and all, and now you're just. Silent."

Kirishima relaxed slightly and allowed a wan smile to form, but the guilt wrung his heart out like a rag, and that kept him mute.

"Is it the dog tag thing?" Denki continued, still blocking Kirishima's path. (Not that it mattered, of course; he hadn't moved a muscle since the blond began talking.) "'Cause look man, I know a lot of guys died, and it sucks to be the first to see everything, but you're doing the right thing by picking them out. Trust me, man, we'll make it through this."

"I told Jirou." Maybe, just maybe, two impulse decisions would cancel out, and they'd be able to resolve everything like proper, mature adults, and then things would be better than before he said all that and it would all be okay—

The betrayal sank into Denki's expression, and it began to seriously look as if it wasn't going to be okay. "You did?" Oh, heck.

Because really, why had he ever thought any differently? Jirou was not the one who apologized; he was the one who sulked. And now, with Jirou too embarrassed to even be in the presence of Denki, what hope was there now of the two of them making up?

Kirishima nodded slowly. He had to make up for his mistakes, and that wasn't going to happen if he lied.

Luckily, Denki merely deflated and took a few steps back. "Oh, well, then. I guess I have to deal with this now," he said, but it was devoid of all bitterness, as if he were simply musing on the thought. "Though, it would probably be for the best if I waited until he calmed down, don't you think?"

While the majority of Kirishima was very relieved he hadn't lost a friend in what probably should have been the betrayal of the century (right under that burnt guy telling everyone where the enemy base was), a tiny little part of him was confused as well. "You're not mad?"

"No," Denki said, and Kiri finally awakened his muscles so that they could join the rest of the soldiers, packed and ready to go, assembling. "I was going to tell him when the war was over, but I think this will work out too. Better to let him adjust to the idea of it first.

The two fell into a silence. It wasn't tense or awkward or anything Kiri could describe, really; however, there was an air of nonchalance, of contentedness and acceptance. No, Denki couldn't do anything about Jirou now that he knew, but he'd taken it in stride and was going to work with it, it seemed.

It calmed Kirishima immensely, quite honestly. For a moment there, everything had seemed all but irreparable.

Before he knew it, they were on the road again, their destination a vague, nebulous something in their mind. After the surprise and adrenaline highs of the initial ambush and the significantly more controllable second battle, perhaps this third fight would be the one where the sky, the earth, and the blood smeared on both would all begin to blend into one in everyone's minds. Long were they out of their freshly minted stage; though it had been barely a few weeks, enough had happened that they began to feel the creeping weight of their status.

Kirishima remained with Denki for this ride, knowing his friend may well be alone if he chose to hang out with Bakugou yet again. (Would the man miss him? Kiri rather hoped so, since it was starting to look like they had a good dynamic going.) No matter how much Denki insisted he would be okay, Kiri couldn't do that to him. Bro code.

Both said nothing, however, leaving each to his own internal monologue once more.

Kiri found his mind wandering back to Jirou the night before. He looked like he wanted to say something at the end of it, what was he going to say? It was hard not to wonder, especially when Kirishima had been the only one unloading his thoughts.

The redhead glanced up and ahead at Haku and Jirou, laughing and chatting side-by-side on horseback. What lie could Jirou be hiding?

Was Haku a part of it? The two were close, after all. Or were they part of the same secret?

Thoughts swirled in the depths of Kirishima's consciousness, unable to be grasped or articulated, even in the incomprehensible mess that was a mind. There was something about their friends Kiri couldn't quite say was normal anymore, but he just figure out what.

The chilly mountain air was made far more biting by the early mornings of the waning summer's last breaths. Momo felt its sting keenly, shivering until her teeth chattered as the dragon Uraraka slithered up her bare arm and curled against her warm neck.

"Hey, Yaomomo, I've been thinking," the dragon softly said, still shifting into a comfortable position. "You'd be all right if Deku and I stayed behind this time, right?"

Momo stilled, a fresh shirt once halfway onto her head now lying half-forgotten on her lap. Uraraka quieted as well, certain that this was the natural next step in Momo's growth. She just wasn't sure how to break it to the girl without scaring her. She gulped.

Maybe she should have brought it up sooner than the morning they were planned to ambush Shigaraki's men.

"Yeah, I should be," Momo answered, just before Uraraka could continue, and the latter could hear she was reluctant to answer like that.

Concerned, Uraraka said, "I know you can do it. It's been weeks since I've had to whisper advice in your ear. You know what you're doing like the back of your hand by now. All I am by now is just a crutch to your greatness." She put a paw to her chest to feel the tiny dragon heart beating within, exhaling as if to impart its will and greatness to Momo. "I believe in you."

Momo chewed her cheek for a moment. "You taught me that already," she said, her voice a little brittle from the morning mountain air, then added, almost like an afterthought, "with the arrow. I know I can do it."

Uraraka slid off Momo's shoulder and watched the girl's expression harden into determination.

"I'll do you proud, Uraraka," she said, quickly donning her armor, and she swept her hair into a topknot just as she began to leave.

"Wait!" the tiny dragon called, and Momo looked at her from behind the bangs she hadn't yet brushed out of her eyes. Uraraka held her breath sharply in preparation— she hadn't done anything like this in a long, long time— and yanked a single, chestnut scale off her body with her teeth. It had been loosening ever so slightly for the last few days, which meant no blood was spilt, but those facts did not detract from the meaning of the gift.

Momo knelt down to Uraraka's level, accepting the scale with a soft, graceful smile and scratching Uraraka just behind her nubby, little antlers as thanks.

In the background, Deku chirped his warning for the time, and Momo paid the dragon a final few pats on the head before slinging her sword around her waist and walking off to war.

Uraraka rubbed something out of her eye in hopes that maybe, it would stop her from crying. "Our little baby, off to destroy people."

The moon

Kurogiri knew his time would come eventually.

Had he known he would fall at the hands of a Todoroki? No, not specifically, but he wasn't surprised. Privately, he'd mistrusted that Dabi, knowing he had strong ties to the other side of the war, but the master's decisions were not to be questioned.

Of course, he wryly thought as Shigaraki ran an anxious hand through his hair, blissfully unaware of the upcoming ambush as Kurogiri was predicting, nothing is for certain yet. He wasn't even sure in the reliability of his predictions. Was he being dramatic?

If he was going to be killed by one of Endeavor's spawn, so be it, but he wanted to at least look them in the eye in the moments before.

He cracked his knuckles lightly once he heard the first cannon roar nearby, jolting Shigaraki with its suddenness. "It's time, Shigaraki."

The man in question trembled as he turned to face Kurogiri. "Now?" His voice was hardly more than a breathy croak in his growing excitement.

Kurogiri nodded, stepping outside. "Break a leg."

Itsuka sighed through her nose, staring out her window as the sunset faded into dusk.

Composing poetry was hard when half the words you wanted to use in rhyme would drastically alter the meaning of the line if mispronounced. And cutting it all down to three words a line? These classical studies were getting out of hand, she thought.

But challenging as it was to compose, poetry was also engaging to read. Itsuka still wanted to leave a mark somewhere, of her thoughts and feelings condensed into the beautiful lines crammed with meaning.

Her half-spent candle dripped wax onto her hand, and she winced. All right, it seemed prudent to stop with the daydreaming and get something out.

Even if it sucks, she reminded herself, swirling her brush through the ink. She stared at the empty page before her, her brush threatening to drip and mar its purity, her mind bubbling with countless variations of a first line she didn't like quite enough to put down.

Just get it out. But her hands were shaking.

What was she scared of?

The pyre burns bright beside me

Itsuka blinked; hey, now that wasn't half bad. Could be a bit denser, but it had potential. Maybe—

(Something— something had to be done. They had been the ones with the element of surprise, yes, but clearly that wasn't going to win the battle for them against this many enemies.)

—she could rework it later. Nothing was ever published without at least some editing first.

I see its reflection in the lake

(She coughed, her breath seemingly never returning fully as she tried her best not to choke on the airborne ash and smoke. Her eyes darted around the landscape, nerves gnawing at her performance without that familiar presence at her back.)

Once you got started, it wasn't so hard to keep that momentum going. The jumbled thoughts fighting for a piece of the chaos in Itsuka's mind had suddenly lined themselves up neatly, feeding her hands the inspiration to put to paper.

Flickering, wavering, its lonely light

(The battle had worn on for hours now. She couldn't lie; her muscles were screaming and sore. She had long lost count of the heads she had cut off. Yet, she was but a lonely, little island amongst the sea of enemies. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had come this far this near unscathed.)

Itsuka paused for a moment, propping her chin up with her elbow and watching the dusk settle. A cold breeze blew in, signalling the first dip into the night.

Upon the water replaced the harvest moon

(With a startling boom!, she remembered the cannons. Now, her gaze soared upward, to the rocky mountain with its sides wet from the long melted morning frost. Maybe, if she could just knock something in there loose…)

Oh, that reminded her, the moon festival was approaching. Waking up tomorrow at dawn to help reap what had been sown didn't sound quite so bad anymore, but she still wanted to finish the poem before heading off to bed. Just one more line, and that would be enough.

Who hides behind clouds

(She took a deep breath, and, ignoring the unintelligible screaming all around her, lit the fuse and took aim.)

Yes, that was it.

Itsuka put down her brush, satisfied for the evening.

What had Haku been thinking just now? Firing off their last cannon into the mountainside? Had he gone mad?

Shoto had to bite his tongue to keep himself from scolding Haku right then and there, he was so taken aback by his anger. He watched helplessly as the cannon head crashed into the nearest peak, raising a visible cloud of dust, but for a moment, it seemed that was all.

Then came the low rumbling, and soon, both sides had all but stopped to search for the source.

Shoto glanced back down at Haku. He was grinning. Visibly exhausted, but grinning.

The dust billowed up on the mountainside, the low rumbling growing louder and louder until the first sharp cracks of rocks tumbling down could be heard.

Rockslide.

Shoto's body moved before his mind could even think up the decision. Before he even realized it, he felt in his throat his voice calling out to Haku (but he was drowned out by the thundering), and he swept the other boy up and into his arms and ran with him. They were not exempt from the tumbling mountain; they couldn't stay for much longer because as long as they were in range of the enemy, they would be crushed by boulders.

No. Shoto couldn't allow that. He ran and ran as fast as his legs would carry him; he ran until his limbs were leaden pistons, churning and churning without feeling, each step pounding into the dirt with earth-shattering force. He stopped even thinking— if Haku had said anything at all since getting picked up, Shoto couldn't hear him— his only existence was the rush of blood ringing in his ears and the dry, painful breaths he took without really feeling them.

And then, collapse.

Shoto fell to his knees, just scraping the edge of the torrent of tumbling rocks, not even noticing all the soldiers immediately crowding around the two of them. His whole world had become the one he now cradled, Haku, but why was he feeling like…?

Something warm and wet trickled onto his hand, and at first, he thought it was sweat. However, when he tried to wipe it away without looking, he brushed up against something different.

He didn't get it at first, but glancing down, time slowed down. Suddenly, he could feel his heart slam against his sternum, its beating roaring in his ears.

A crimson stain, still dark and spreading. An arrow shaft.

He felt Haku bleeding into his arms.

Shoto's heart stopped.

and…

author's note xvi. i don't do cliffhangers often so let me live just this one time. the "and..." plays into a technique i've wanted to use for ages now where the chapter titles actually bleed into the narrative. the fact that this story has over 70 followers makes it officially my most followed story and *nervously sweats* i'm so sorry for not being able to update this every week ;-;. it's half past one rn bc i didn't wanna make you guys wait yet another week hahaha *cries*. but it's also good for me to write more SO yee.

anyway sorry about the short and late chapter. in something i've dubbed "the fanfiction fiasco", my first year chem teacher found and read some of my fic, a chunk if not all of orchid included, so that just left me shot from total embarrassment. but i should be all right, since i've had writing jams killed in the past before. i have a lot of prewritten segments i just need to recontextualize and rehash and rewrite to put in now, so the process SHOULD be a bit smoother. i am making no promises though.

anyway, thank you all so much for reading. follow/fave if you're new and interested, leave a review if that's what you're into (pls ;-;), and as always, have a greaaaat daaaayyy~~~