Chapter 28 – Solutions

Uraraka woke up late, feeling perfectly refreshed. She leaped out of bed, jumped into her clothes, and rushed down the stairs. She dashed cheerfully through the passages, breathing deep and smiling. A flood of appreciation for the beautiful parts of her home, which she had so long overlooked, swept over her. Both suns were already up, and filling the stained glass with bright, harmonious light. The sun threw crisp projections of the windows over the carpet – neat, geometrical patterns of the circular orange suns and the diamonds in the blue night sky, the square red flags and rectangular banners of the temples, the piled-up green triangles of the coniferous forest, the curved lines of the auburn winelands in harvest, the white zig-zag of the lower mountain range and the valley. She hopped from one patch of colour to the next, carefree, humming to herself. The echo did not bother her.

When she danced into the kitchen, she was disappointed to find it empty. It was late, after all, and all of her friends had duties of her own. Still, the sweetbread left on the table buoyed her jubilant mood, and she wasted no time in taking a seat and filling her plate. Staying up late the night before, and all of her adrenaline and racing heart and frenzied thinking, had given her a mighty appetite. This was tamed by several slices of bread, which she poked onto a spit and carefully toasted over the open fire. The smell of foreign spices and caramelising sugar was irresistible, and she had to dedicate significant mental energies to prevent herself from eating it before it was quite done. Even as she planned the day ahead, she found her mind wandering. How the sweetbread smelled good, she thought, and didn't it smell familiar? Like that first night, like Bakugou's face in her hands…

She finished her breakfast, washed up, and set about locating her friends. The castle really was unusually quiet today. There was no one in the library, nor in any of the great drawing rooms that they had recently dusted off. The servants quarters, she was dismayed to find, were as empty as ever, and the wing that the boys had split between them was chaotic but silent. Venturing up to the little room that Mina had, at length, chosen for herself, she found it vide, and decided to abandon her search for the time being.

She stepped out into the courtyard to breathe some fresh air. Overnight, a storm had travelled down the valley, clearing the air of water and smog, and there was cleanness and vigour despite the stillness of the day. The plants glistened, a few lazy droplets of water indicating that someone had recently watered them. Fluffy hover-flies buzzed about the dew, drinking and dancing. The carpenter bees laboured away as usual. The gourds were beginning to swell and ripen and the sweet scent of garlic flowers spilled over the stone paths.

Uraraka climbed up the ramparts and looked out. Below, the city smoked and heaved as usual, and she distantly observed that the market set up on the main square was busier than ever. Her night's joy still spurring her to imprudence, she wrapped her hands around her ankles and unrestrainedly blasted a jolt of magic back into her body. She was weightless. Letting the wind carry her, she floated over the castle walls, and began to look for her friends.

XXX

In the morning, which was, as we know, bright and clear, Bakugou awoke just in time to catch Kirishima at the kitchen door. On the way he noticed that the boy's quarters were utterly abandoned, and was thus surprised by his friend's sudden appearance. Kirishima's appearance was doubly strange, for he was uncommonly well turned-out: he had slicked his hair back with a bit of fat, and a new cape adorned his shoulders.

"Morning." Said Kirishima, in his usual manner.

"G'morning. Hey, what's up today? Where's everyone gone? And what's with the stupid hair?"
"Stupid?" he pouted.

"… different."

Kirishima grinned.

"Which question first?"

"Hair."
"It's Mina's birthday today."

Bakugou wracked his brain. Birth-day. It was some sort of Capcanish custom that Ashido adhered to. He didn't see what all of the fuss was about (and it certainly was a fuss, and Ashido liked it that way) that she was older than she had been a year ago. She would have been, anyways. Last year, Kirishima had bought her a lemon from a market, whose juice she eeked out as a flavouring to their food for most of a week, and he had handed her a bunch of wildflowers, and that had been it. The dressing up was new.

"Are we doing something?"
"Um, Mina and I are going out. To a restaurant."

"Great, I haven't eaten yet."
"No, bro, I mean, we're going out. A ren-dey-voo."

Bakugou gaped. He felt utterly betrayed, ambushed, by his own friends. He had spent a great many hours in Kirishima's company, and never heard any mention of going out. It was tantamount to conspiracy.

Kirishima and Ashido had always been closer to each other than he had, but it was natural, a pure time advantage. Their differences had diminished over the years, and he had thought them finally a trio.

But it was presumption. He was, as he had been at the start: a vestigial limb, well-formed but unnecessary.

"You're… courting?"

"I guess. Maybe not that seriously. Mina calls it 'dating'." He smiled bashfully, as though he was receiving praise.

"Since when?"

"A couple weeks."

"When were you gonna tell me?"

Kirishima's smile stiffened. His eyes stilled on Bakugou's, and a new kind of tension arose. For the first time since the forest, and the wild animals and the scars, there was animosity. Their red eyes were mirror images of each other. The two suns glared harsh on the stone slabs of the floor, and the heat of the fireplace licked at their legs.

"When you told me about you and the queen." He retorted.

"That started yesterday."

Kirishima looked up, as though he had started to roll his eyes and then thought better of it. The sun shone on his shiny carmine hair.

"Oh, it isn't 'courting' if neither of you admit to it? Does all've your sneaking around count for nothing, then?"
"I didn't know like you did. I haven't had as long."

"You've had plenty of time with me and Mina." His eyebrows came together in pain "Enough to know what it means to be a friend. Enough to know whether you're abandoning us to this… this fucking mountain, and your evil wife."

"Don't-" Bakugou bristled.

"Don't I care? I do- and I know that I'm going with Mina, and you can do whatever you want, but don't expect us to worship you like a king. We thought you wanted to be a hero."

It stung like the venom of a hornet's kiss. He felt gutless, void. The identity that he had been constructing for himself, already dented by his confrontation with Todoroki, finally gave way.

Perhaps no one had ever thought him a saviour at all. He had never done anything good, anything selflessly, in his entire life. He had been playing as a soldier, a jumped-up politician, an aristocrat, for the power of it, for the fame, the heroics. He had spared Ochaco not only for her innocence, but because he wanted her for himself.

He thought of the sandy hall of the forgotten king, crumbling slowly into the great plains. He thought of the throne, so high, so distant, and he remembered the carvings, and the blood, and the bones, the bones, the bones.

"Eiji, I… I care about you guys. I need you in my life."

The dragon-boy softened.

"I know. Just remember to show it some time." He turned towards the door

"I will, I'm sorry, I…"

"And remember to get Mina something!" Kirishima interrupted, already in the doorway, already unhearing. And with that, he left.

As his footsteps receded, Bakugou realised that he had never been given an answer to his second question. The thought made him feel especially alone, and for once the feeling was heavy. Who could he turn to? He could not bear the thought of the bones, and this made him feel weak, and his weakness kindled a wish for comfort, which made him feel weaker still.

He sat down by the fireplace, as he had done with Kirishima so many times before, and curled into his legs. Outside birds whistled and the wind blew, and before him the fire crackled, denying him the dignity of silence. The darkness of his cloak, and his fur collar, was calming, and after some time in which he focused on his breath, he got up and decided to go to town to find the others.

He left the softbread on the table completely untouched. He had no appetite for sweetness now.

XXX

The town was busier than ever. The pungency of the crowds and the market-stalls had sharpened in the hot air, and everywhere smelled of sweat and spices. In the side-streets, children kicked stones about and on the main thoroughfairs there was chaos and clamour.

He had rarely gone out when it was busy, and feared for a moment that the people would discover his royal identity, but he found that this fear was unwarranted, or perhaps irrelevant. Of course, he received plenty of stares in the street, but it was impossible to tell whether this was out of recognition or out of xenophobic ignorance. No one bothered – dared – approach him.

He made prodigious use of his elbows and shoulders to fight his way through the throng, and quickly reached a stand selling spiced brochettes, which he wolfed down without paying attention to his manners. His basic needs met, he then pushed his way to the tinsmiths' guild, where he found Kaminari , surrounded by artisans. They traded light insults and banter for a bit, before he determined that no one had seen the city guards or the Onirians, and once again made his way.

He took the rat-runs on his way back up the slopes, enjoying the peace and the shade of the tall stone walls. The cobblestones became wider and smoother, and he knew that he was heading in the right direction, for the houses grew larger too. After a wrong turn, he crossed into a small garden square, and sat in the shade of a holly bush to rest for a bit.

The high walls of the city houses blocked out whatever breeze might have relieved the heat of the day, and the stones of the walls and road radiated gently with the morning's warmth. The sky was blue and perfect, and for a moment all was still.

Then, from the air above, there came the chiming of a bell. He looked up. All in a swish of fabric, Uraraka was floating by. Her hair was all over the place, and her skirts billowed this way and that, scandalously revealing a peek of bloomers. Bakugou didn't care about this. All he saw was her wide face, soaking in the orange sunlight, her cheeks flushed, and the golden flash of her wedding bell. She was beautiful.

He watched her float over, then, panicking, realised that she would soon be out of sight.

"Hey!" he yelled, because it was the first thing that he thought of.

His wife looked down. She lowered herself, squinting, and let herself be buffeted in surprise.

"Oh, hello!" she said brightly, and she slowly set herself down on a corner across from him. "Isn't it a lovely day?"

He couldn't help but smile, and a soft affirmation slipped out of his lips before he had time to quite think about it. They blushed at each other. Then he said:

"Are you mad? What if people saw you?"

"Oh, I'm not too worried." she smiled dreamily. There was something far-away in her look. "I think we've done well by the citizens, and I haven't anything to be robbed of anyway."

"But your reputation…"

"What would a little flight do?" she giggled. He felt intoxicated at the sound, wrapped up in her joy. The world spun around them, and his head felt so light…

He blinked, and realised suddenly that the world really was spinning around him. He was floating. In his dizziness, she had grabbed his hand, and now they were floating together through the temperate air. The breeze felt cool on his cheeks. He felt the sweatiness of hiss brow with some embarrassment.

"Are you alright?" said his wife, peering at him.

He blinked.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, sorry, I just thought you looked a bit hot. And I remembered you saying you loathed the heat…"

"Well, I guess…" he trailed off, taken aback. They were still in the sky above the tiled roofs. The smell of grass and fresh water and market smoke rose distantly around them, and their bells rang softly. "I just wasn't expecting it."

Uraraka laughed again, and his heart skipped a beat.

"I'm going to Momo's, would you like to come?"

"I was going to go there too, I guess."

"You guess? My, you don't seem sure of much today!"
"Fuck off!" he snapped, blushing. He shuddered as they began to move.

He trailed behind her slightly as she carved the headwind, firmly holding his hand. The rush of the air was too loud to hear through the distance, so they were both silent, watching the city below. Bakugou hadn't seen anything like it.

The people below were shrunken and bobble-headed, their feet so tiny as to be invisible, soot spots on the stone. The tiles of the roofs glistened in ochre and carmine red, shiny like beetle shells in the sun. Flying ants and leaf-cutter bees buzzed close to his face – curious, distorted titans in contrast to the creatures below. From here, the crowds seemed so simple; he saw from above two friends unknowingly swerve away from each other as they were swallowed by the throng, a mislaid hat tumble across dancing shoes, a child sat on his brother's shoulders wobbling alongside a rolled-up carpet. There was so much colour, so much life. It was so different to his last flight with Uraraka, through the blizzard and the heartache. All he had seen then through the eye-holes in his mask was white, cold white, and there was nothing in the streets but death. Today was so different. He could not help but smile.

Of course, he had once been able to push his way into the air, to resist gravity for a few moments and catch glimpses of the world from above. But it was a long time since he had been able. It had always been too cold in Lasandu.

He reflected on this for a bit. It was still relatively cold, of course. Lasandunian summer was rather like a dry Capcanish winter. But perhaps, it was just warm enough for his magic to take confidence?

He closed his eyes. It was a little hard to concentrate with the wind rushing around him, and Uraraka's hand around his, but he was able to calm himself by focusing his breathing. He felt magic rising, red-hot, from his gut and coiling through his abdomen. A flood of fire swept through his wrists, and from his free hand, there erupted a burst of light, and an ear-shattering bang.

The force of the explosion sent them somersaulting through the air, turning upon themselves. Their hands were ripped apart like pebbles caught in the tide, and Bakugou continued skywards, ever-higher. When he came to a stop, the air was so thin that he found it hard to breathe. He looked around.

His wife was floating towards him, her eyes wide, with a streak of smoke-char across her ear. She caught a hold of his sleeve and leaned close to him as she pulled him down.

"I'm sorry," she shouted, though it sounded like a whisper through the wind "I don't know what happened, are you hurt?"
"What are you sorry for?" He roared back "It was me! It was my magic!"

She stretched her lip, bewildered.

"Just stay still!" he yelled again.

His wife complied. She took them to a stop above a minor temple, where the air was slow and perfumed with incense. Bakugou reached out, and grabbed her waist close to him, secure. He motioned for her to hold on to him, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

The closeness, like the aromatic air, was a little intoxicating.

He closed his eyes. Fire rose within him. A smaller explosion leapt from his hands, and they were propelled forward. He turned to look at Uraraka, searching, smiling. She laughed at him again, and he felt happy, and launched another spark that pushed them through the air towards the Onirian house.

They jolted happily through the sky, attracting some attention as they went. Uraraka smiled and waved, which he thought foolish, but she looked so gay as she did that he kept his mouth shut, and was content to look at her rather than the citizens (his citizens) below. Landing was a bit more tricky than he had remembered. He bounced, bruising the balls of his feet, and his wife tumbled a rather clumsily out of his arms. As she dusted herself off, he noticed her smile drop.

What was the matter? He hadn't been paying attention to anything but her. Finally turning his head to the house, he saw that the door hung wide open, and that there was a stack of wooden crates of provisions and various tools lined up next to it. It was a good sign, he thought, for the Lasandunian economy that citizens were trusting enough to leave their things about on the street.

But of course, the self-assured king had missed something in analysis. This was not the house of any old citizen; it was the house of the Onirians, the house in which he had spent the night of new year, the house of the woman who had helped him pass policy and the man with whom Deku was in love. Even, though he would not let himself admit it, the house of friends.

Uraraka rushed inside, and he followed her as though pulled by a stiff rope, inelegantly. They found Jirou stood on top of the dining table, trying to pull the beads down from the rafters, and Todoroki juggling a large copper pot. By the fireplace, Yaoyorozu was sweeping. She and Uraraka noticed each other, and gasped. They rushed towards each other, around the heavy pot and the wide table, and held each other. Bakugou watched mutely.

"Momo, what in the Earth Mother's name is this?"
"Oh, gods, I meant to tell you, we just- it's all such a rush-"

"What is? What's the rush?"

Yaoyorozu put down her broom, and motioned to the others to stop what they were doing. She brought everyone to the table, and from upstairs emerged the armour-less knights, carrying a futon. Todoroki brought out a scroll, with lacquered wooden handles and gold-green wax seal that smelled of cedar. Rolled out upon the table, it exposed a lengthy message in elegant brushwork. It was written in Onirian.

"There has been a revolt in Onirus." He said stoically.
"A revolution, they call it." Said Midoriya.

Yaoyorozu looked out at them.

"My family are aristocrats. I don't know if they're alive or dead… I must go to them."

"And I." Echoed Todoroki.

There was silence.

"Who brought you this news?" said Bakugou.

He had been eyeing the scroll with suspicion. The scented wax used to make the seal was far too precious to fall into the possession of a regular news-merchant, and the gold, when it moved in the light, was pinkish-blue. It was pearl powder. Pearls, from his home. A luxury renowned across the land.

Todoroki looked at him piercingly. Yaoyorozu glanced nervously between them. Yet there was no animosity in the air. The scarred boy seemed to stare right through him, his thoughts battling each other in a far away field. Finally, he sighed.

"Everyone, I must ask for your trust." He spoke gravely.

And everyone nodded gravely back, including Bakugou, who felt the gravity of the situation and was, besides, intrigued.

"I am a prince." He said, as Uraraka and Iida blinked in confusion "And I am a prince of the house of King Endeavor. My elder brother has killed him, and will take the throne. He has sent for me; I am to be his advisor." His voice rose throughout the speech, gaining confidence. Yaoyorozu's chest puffed with pride. There was silence again.

"You're leaving immediately?" Broke Uraraka.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Well, you're not going alone."

"What-"

Uraraka stood up, suddenly.

"I'm going with you!" she declared. Everyone stared at her, flabbergasted.

"But the kingdom-!" stuttered Midoriya.

"The kingdom can take care of itself.", She continued, and through his confusion Bakugou could not help but admire her "I have had an idea that will sort it all out. There will simply be no more kings or queens in Lasandu, ever again!"

She grinned. Everyone else gaped, horrified.

"But who will rule?"

"Oh, there will be a ruler, but they will change as needed. The citizens will choose."

"But can you trust the people?"
"What is Katsuki, but a citizen suddenly elevated to ruler?"

She pointed to him. Suddenly everyone's eyes were upon him.

"Yeah." He said, because he couldn't think of anything smarter.

Yaoyorozu surveyed him critically.

"Then I suppose that I was, too. And we made a fine team, if I do say so myself."
"I would say that ruling has actually improved Katsuki's character", said Todoroki wryly.

Bakugou held himself back from snarling. He knew that this was, by Todoroki's standards, the highest compliment. Perhaps their conversation last night had meant something after all?

"But we have no time," interjected Midoriya, whose face was in his gloved again already "How will we find our first leader so soon?"

"What about you?" said Jirou.

He blushed.

"Well, I want to go with Shouto and Ochaco."

"Me too." Said Iida, before anyone could nominate him. This was clever, because most of them had, in fact, been thinking that he was the most capable leader left among them.

"Mina and Eiji can accompany you. It will be safer." Added Bakugou.

"And you?"

Uraraka's lovely brown eyes widened. Oh, how he hated to disappoint her…

But how would he disappoint her? How could he? Why would he stay on this frozen mountain, without her and without his friends? A beautiful opportunity presented itself.

"And me." He said, rushed, slightly out of breath.

"Perfect." Said Midoriya sarcastically, "but there remains still the question of our first ruler."

"What about Melissa?"

"She's well read, I suppose…"

"She's mad!" interrupted Jirou.

"Then she could dream up ideas that would never come to us!" said Uraraka, smiling "And besides, if she doesn't, the people can vote her out."

Everyone nodded sagely. But Bakugou was still struggling to understand.

"Are you seriously okay with abandoning your home like this? Everything will change." He said.

"I know."

"You won't have a crown, or a castle anymore. Will you really enjoy life as a traveller? Will you be able to endure the rainy and stormy days?"
"I can endure anything." She replied proudly. "I have endured the plague, and the famine. And since then, Lasandu has never been the same anyway. It never will be the Lasandu of my childhood again. With only the young left, there's a chance, a real chance for change. Shouldn't we take it whilst we still can?"

XXX

So Midoriya went and fetched Melissa, who was delighted, and made preparations right away. The Onirians continued packing, and Uraraka and Iida departed for the castle to pack their own things. Bakugou went to the market, where he bought a long ribbon of blue velvet.

He presented the ribbon to Ashido, and explained everything, and she burst into tears and wrapped her arms around him. In the evening, they gathered in the hall of stars, and prayed under the prismatic light of the open solstice sky.

And so it was, on one late summer morning, that Bakugou Katsuki, the summer king, was king no longer, and neither was his queen. He stood on the edge of town, surrounded by a caravan of friends, and together they began their journey with no end.

The castle, empty once more, wept its silent tears. The curse of the Uraraka bloodline, and of its last princess was broken – there was no princess, there was no plague, there was no famine. Peace and plenty reigned once more.

In the years to come, the rumours too would change. The former princess met many travellers and merchants along her journey, and many of them lived on to tell that she was gentle, and sage, and kind.

A/N:

ta-daa! there it is! the labour of my youth...

Well, it's not quite done. In terms of sheer volume of words, this fanfic is about the length of two good-sized books. If I felt I had the time, there was a whole third book of content planned! The next chapters are a little summary of this for your amusement. Please leave me some nice feedback so I can say I've used the time well, lol