Chapter Text
Since arriving at the pack, Katsuki hadn’t known a day of peace or quiet. But in the days following Jest’s attack, things slowed to a strange lull where one day bled into the next and a routine started to form. The feeling was strange and vaguely out of place, so much so that Katsuki thought the world might be slightly tilted and he’d only just started noticing he wasn’t balanced on his feet.
He spent most of his days wandering the village, slowly learning all its intricacies. Izuku’s village was larger and more tightly compacted than his home had been. The confines of the forest meant that the village had naturally pressed itself together rather than sprawled apart. The small pathways between dwellings were tangled and sometimes nearly impassible off the main roads. But he found his way and slowly pieced together a map of the village.
As the days wore on, he also slowly came to realize there was an odd layout to the village. Families were huddled together, and that often meant like-minded people ended up in dwellings next to one another, forming small pockets of similar-type homes all bundled around a central pathway. Some were more welcoming to him than others, but no one outwardly cursed him. Kaya, he came to realize, was situated in a rather airy part of the village, set next to several other older couples interspersed with a few younger pack members who cared for them. Meanwhile, Izuku and Shoto’s family all had dwellings closer to the center of the village and all very close to one another. Katsuki once mused that a well-struck fire could take out the entirety of the pack’s leadership. Eijiro and his friends all lived somewhat close together, other than the ponytailed girl, who lived closer to the center of the village. Everyone had their own little communities circled within the larger village.
Despite this, there was still unity within the pack. Everyone had their own friends and families, yes, and some of them got along better than others, of course, but they were all part of the pack and they all acknowledged the responsibility of being part of the greater whole. It was strange to see, though Katsuki soon found a quiet amusem*nt in watching neighbors who disagreed rather passionately share bread at the same fire during supper. Such scenes reminded him of his own pack, which hadn’t been nearly as divided but certainly just as united. His mother had always gotten onto him for not conforming to the pack enough. No one here seemed to mind the odd eccentric.
But they did seem to mind him. Most of the pack minded him quite a lot, actually.
At first, he assumed this was because they didn’t trust him, and he didn’t blame them for it. He wouldn’t have trusted an outsider roaming around seemingly scoping the village out either. But slowly, he came to notice the subtle differences in how people looked at him. To some, he was still clearly a threat. They trailed after him silently, boldly, clearly a challenge in how they never once blinked, staring him down. Others watched, more curious than threatened. Some of them whispered behind their hands to their neighbors, who just shook their heads. And some watched with slight frowns, smiling whenever he caught them looking. These, he started to realize, were the worried. Those that worried for him. Not because of him. But for his health, his safety.
Slowly, he realized that there were people in the village who wanted him to be well, and there were more than he could have ever expected.
At night, he either spent suppers with Eijiro or Izuku and his family. Every now and then, Toshinori would call him up and ask him how the pack was treating him, whether he was having any problems. Katsuki always told him things were well. And when he was with Eijiro and his friends, he could pretend to forget for a while. Pretend that he didn’t remember all that had happened to him and his pack. Pretend to forget that Alpha and Jest were still out there, somewhere. Pretend to just be a normal young alpha having a meal with his friends.
It was strange. Welcome, but strange.
Kaya was the strangest. She let him sleep in her dwelling in a small corner under the herbs, though he sometimes went out to sleep in her garden instead. She warned him not to crush the more persnickety flowers but otherwise didn’t seem to mind. And, no matter how much he might accidentally crush them during his sleep, her gardens always seemed to flourish by the next night.
Strange, strange, strange.
And yet, Katsuki was starting to recognize this strangeness as something that was his.
He was carving out a place for himself amongst this pack. Starting to settle deeper in the veins of the village. There was something for him here, and he was slowly seizing it.
The thought sometimes paralyzed him. He thought about how easy it was to settle in this village when his own was ruin out on the plains, nothing left but indistinct wreckage. It had been long enough that he didn’t expect anyone who didn’t know there had been a village there to recognize the rubble as such. And yet, he’d already moved on, forgotten it. All the people he had known and had known him. All of them gone. He was the only one who could remember them. Him, and the evil bastards who killed them.
And he was forgetting. Slipping into this new life.
Could he really doom his pack to only be remembered by those who had murdered them? Surely they deserved better than that. And yet, sitting around fires with Izuku’s pack, he could lean his head back and choose to forget what he had lost. He could so easily choose to be in the moment, with them.
A slow resentment built in his chest as the days wore on. Resentment for himself, maybe, but it manifested as sparks along his palms and hard stares at those who dared to challenge him. He tried to make less challenges himself – though he found it hard to do so with Izuku, who always responded in interesting ways – but he couldn’t stop himself from snarling every now and then just to see how the others would react.
The distance kept him in-between. Not quite forgetting where he had come from, not quite accepted as part of this other pack. Instead, he drifted between them, just as he drifted between each of the dwellings, keeping away from those inside.
He kept watch over the village, as Izuku had asked him. He never once felt that same looming presence as he patrolled. And when he wasn’t walking the village, he would look up and growl at the lack of stars and sky.
He missed the sky. Probably because it was easier to miss than the plains.
- - -
The days wore on like water over a still-sharp rock. It would take time, but slowly the rock would be weathered away to whatever lay at its core, exposed and weakened. Izuku hated the feeling, the rush of anticipation never come to climax.
But he kept to his duties, tending to the pack the same as he always had. While no one was under the impression that all was well, they hardly ever brought up the fact in front of Izuku. With him, they let themselves pretend that everything was fine, and in return, Izuku acted as if everything was fine. He existed as a pretense to everyone in the pack. A brief fantasy. An escape.
Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise then, how much he started feeling the want to escape himself. He couldn’t let himself be exposed. The walls he’d put up were to protect his pack. If they fell, if the river washed them away, then it would be his pack that suffered.
So he pretended everything was okay, even when clearly it was not.
Shoto recovered quickly in the next few days and continued his habits of trailing after Izuku, his stalwart shadow, even with his body still bandaged. He never once spoke of what Jest had done to him. Izuku was under the impression that he was embarrassed by his failure. As one of the strongest warriors of the pack, it was disgraceful that he’d been nearly killed by a single rogue. Or, that was what he seemed to tell himself. Izuku tried to comfort him, but he wasn’t convinced this was something he could help Shoto with. He wasn’t sure who could help him.
The only major change he saw during the next few days was the change between Shoto and Katsuki. Katsuki had done as Izuku had asked and kept a close eye on the pack, prowling around whenever he wasn’t needed somewhere. He reported to Izuku regularly, though he hadn’t found anything yet. And if Shoto was near when he stopped to give his reports, he’d pause to tell the alpha anything that seemed pertinent for Shoto’s duties.
“Your lookout tower’s leaning on the southeast corner,” Katsuki growled in an undertone, clearly not wanting anyone else to hear.
Shoto blinked at him and Izuku held his breath, anticipating that Shoto would be upset by Katsuki’s observation. Instead, the alpha nodded. “Then we’ll repair it.” And sure enough, the lookout post was righted later that day.
When Katsuki had first arrived at the pack, he and Shoto had clearly been just a step from enemies, not outwardly violent but certainly hostile. Then, they’d slowly accepted the other’s presence. Then they’d had a meal together and they’d talked about training and challenges and they’d come to some sort of understanding. Now, they seemed to something like collaborators. They didn’t work together. Not directly. But they seemed to trust what the other said and did.
It was a miracle Izuku couldn’t quite believe. Every time the alphas spoke, he went very still and held his breath, afraid that if either remembered he was standing there they’d become aggressive with one another again. But they never did. Not yet at least.
“What do you think of Katsuki?” Izuku asked Shoto several days after Jest’s attack.
The alpha wrinkled his nose. “He’s temperamental and loud,” he replied, which was a very familiar way for him to describe anyone. The last time Izuku had asked him about someone, Shoto had simply referred to them as “plain.” Two descriptors was either a very good sign or a very bad one, and it was honestly hard to tell which.
Whatever was happening between them, Izuku was glad for the lessened tension. There was too much else going on for him to worry about what was happening with the alphas. It was one less problem for him to have to put energy into.
Which meant he had more time to consider his options.
It felt as if he didn’t have an option, really. Alpha and Jest were still a threat. Something had to be done about them. The other packs had been rallied, but from what Izuku could tell nothing was really moving with them. Scouts were sent out to search for clues of Alpha’s pack, but nothing appeared out of place. The other packs sent word that they weren’t having any luck either, nor did anyone offer immediate support. Izuku wasn’t part of the direct contact, so he had no idea what his father had asked of them, but surely he was asking for more help, especially since Jest’s attack?
He had to do something to help. Anything. And yet, there was so little he could do. He was the aeon of the village. The moral center, the unwavering soul. It wasn’t his place to go out and look for threats against his pack nor was it his duty to directly speak to the other packs. His focus remained inward, their village and the people there.
There was really only one option. He kept the courting robes laid out, plucking up the courage as the days went by. Even though he dreaded having to wear the damn thing.
As the days went on, he turned to examining why he was dreading his courting so much. It was hard to pick out one true reason.
Expectations, yes. He knew whoever he chose would be the next leader of their pack. While his father would tell him to choose someone for love, it wasn’t that simple and they all knew that.
Pressure, of course. He’d been under a lot of pressure to pick out a mate for a long time. Mostly by well-meaning people who just wanted him to be happy, though a few because they recognized the need for him to select their new leaders.
Discontent, maybe. He didn’t want to settle down with a mate. He didn’t want to think about the duties that would come with such an event. Being an omega to an alpha or beta was a responsibility in and of itself. And while he might want to take on such responsibilities some day, now wasn’t the day.
But the more he dug into it, he realized he was shying away from something. Something just at his fingertips, but something he’d skip right over, avoiding like a fire burning too high.
He desperately didn’t want to name it. But he knew if he didn’t put a name to it, he’d never be able to get past whatever was keeping him from doing what needed to be done. It remained just out of reach, no matter how much he struggled, no matter how many hours in the day he ruminated on it.
It was at the end of one such day, stretched far too long with his own circling thoughts, that he came to the dining hall and found the head table completely empty. Soren was there, waiting for him, but he wasn’t working on anything yet. Which was unusual. The beta liked to have something to whet their appetites when they first arrived to supper, even if it was just a nice pot of tea.
“Good evening, Soren,” Izuku greeted as he took his usual seat, tilting an ear to the rest of the dining hall. The pack buzzed happily around him. There remained a wary edge in the wake of Jest’s attack, but morale was high. Much in part to a lot of work and effort on Izuku’s and Toshinori’s part.
“Good evening, shula. Alpha Toshinori sent word that the others won’t be joining you tonight, so I thought I’d make whatever you wished to have tonight.”
“Oh,” Izuku poorly hid his disappointment. Supper was really the only time he got to spend unwinding with his family and friends recently. Sure enough, when he scanned the room he couldn’t find a trace of Shoto, Shoto’s family, or his own family. Nor did he see any of the council members. They must have been having a meeting without him.
“I see,” he cleared his throat. “I, um. Sorry. I don’t really know what I want.”
Soren hid his frown well, but he certainly wasn’t smiling very convincingly. “Is everything all right, shula?”
Izuku smiled. He knew he wasn’t being very convincing either. “Of course. I’m fine.” He reached for his mug, only to remember Soren hadn’t placed one in front of him yet.
Seeing this, the beta rose. “Here. Your favorite tea, maybe? Or perhaps you’d like something a little lighter tonight?”
“Why don’t you surprise me, Soren? Whatever you make is always good.” Izuku felt bad putting the decisions off onto Soren, but he didn’t really know if he could make any decisions for himself at the moment.
“Yes, shula. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Izuku felt a stab of despair as Soren rose. “Oh, I’m okay. Thank you though. You don’t have to, um—” he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.
Soren smiled, a sad little smile. He bowed. “Of course, shula. I’ll be right back.” With that, he stepped off the platform, weaving through the crowd to fetch his ingredients.
Izuku tried to look busy alone before the pack, but there wasn’t even tea for him to drink. He played with his hands some, then realized that might make him seem nervous and shoved them into his lap. For a while, he stared at his empty plate, feeling lost.
Then, a body collapsed next to him and he nearly startled out of his skin.
“Aren’t you a sorry sight.”
Izuku blinked at Katsuki, who leaned back into his palms, head tilted up. He didn’t look at Izuku when he spoke, but his voice was low and meant only for him. “Don’t mind if I crash your supper, do ya?”
“Um, no.” Izuku blinked down at the crowd, spying the empty spot where Katsuki had just been sitting with his friends. They kept the spot open for the alpha, despite how comfortable Katsuki seemed at Izuku’s table. “Did you, uh, need something?”
Katsuki rolled his head to face Izuku, eyes half lidded. He seemed tired again. Izuku was tempted to ask him if he was sleeping, until the alpha said, “You seem lonely.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” he said it too quickly and he saw the shadow of a smirk skitter over Katsuki’s face. “The others are busy. Just wanted to be here to make sure everyone else is okay.”
“Sure, sure.” Katsuki tilted his head back, face to the ceiling. He was doing that more and more, something pained in his expression.
Izuku opened his mouth to ask about it, but stopped himself. He reached for his tea again, only to remember it wasn’t there. He shoved his hands in his lap. “You look tired.”
Katsuki tilted his chin to look out over the pack. “So does everyone else. You included. Hard to rest when you’re listening for a spy.”
“You think Jest has been sneaking around?” Izuku perked up immediately.
Katsuki snorted. “Not too close, no, but he’s around. I’m sure your scouting parties are being watched, even if they don’t see it.”
“There haven’t been anymore attacks,” Izuku said quietly.
“That’s not how it works with them. Not unless they’ve found more rogues to throw at us.” Katsuki pushed himself up, leaning inward. He seemed to think over something, then snarled absently. “Listen. We shouldn’t talk about this. We both probably need a night off.”
“All right.” Izuku wondered if Katsuki was admitting that he needed some time to relax or if he knew bringing himself into it was the only way to make Izuku stop. It was hard to tell with Katsuki, though he was perceptive enough to have figured out Izuku’s more selfless nature. “What would you like to talk about, then?”
Katsuki stared at the empty table. “Something stupid.”
“Is that a suggestion or a request?” Izuku couldn’t help but smile.
The alpha rolled his eyes but was saved when Soren appeared behind them.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be joining the Aeon.” He smiled at Katsuki.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to feed me.” Even as he spoke, Katsuki eyed the ingredients piled on the tray Soren held. There was hunger in his eyes, but more of a curious than ravenous nature.
“I brought plenty, don’t worry.” Soren set the tray aside. “Although, I’m afraid I’ve catered to the Aeon’s tastes more. Will that be okay?”
“I’d like to know what the good Aeon enjoys for supper.” Katsuki looked over to Izuku when he said it. There was something secretive and teasing in the way he eyed the omega, watching his reaction. Only when he looked at Izuku did a more ravenous edge appear in his eyes.
If Soren noticed, he didn’t comment. “Well, it’s a lot of fresh fish mostly.”
“Sounds delicious.” Katsuki licked at his canines.
Izuku made a point to turn away when he did, hoping that no one noticed how his cheeks were warming and his gut was squirming. Damn this alpha. Who did he think he was?
It wasn’t the first time an alpha had teased him. Hell, half the alphas in the pack had tried their luck with him at least once, in their own way. Some more overtly than others, though the more obvious the more risk they took of running afoul Shoto. And Shoto was a stickler when it came to courting traditions. Izuku thought it had something to do with how his family had been brought together, but either way having him nearby had meant that Izuku hadn’t suffered much unwanted, or even wanted, alpha attention. And truth be told, he didn’t particularly like the way some alphas looked at him. Nor how they looked at other omegas, as something shiny sat upon a dais, waiting to be unwoven.
Betas were usually a little sweeter about it, but several of them had also tried to get too close before, earning Shoto’s ire. Izuku found he could tolerate betas a little easier than the more boisterous attitude of a haughty alpha, but even then such attention had always made him feel a little uneasy. Even during the times when he’d enjoyed the passing brush a hand over his waist or the teasing bite of a lip, he had always tried to keep his distance. Much like Shoto, he understood the importance of traditions, so he’d never let anyone too close, nor had he felt the need to pull anyone closer.
What was different with Katsuki? Katsuki acted like a lot of the other alphas Shoto had run off before, though not quite the same. He was not subtle at all, teasing in sometimes inappropriate ways. But when Izuku really thought about it, Katsuki had always kept some distance between them. He had been forward with his wants. But he’d never stepped across the line Izuku had drawn. Maybe that was the difference. Maybe not.
It was frustrating not knowing what to do with Katsuki in this particular aspect. He was finally settling into the village, in the pack, but whenever Izuku caught the alpha smirking at him, he felt as if the ground were unspooling under his feet. No matter how much he turned away and pretended not to notice Katsuki’s teasing, he couldn’t quite ignore the way his body reacted to the alpha’s attention. He’d never felt that before and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He could admit, silently, that he wasn’t opposed to Katsuki’s teasing, though he did wish the alpha was more aware of their surroundings when he was doing such things. But did that mean anything?
It was frankly embarrassing to even be thinking about, so Izuku was grateful for the distraction that came when Soren handed him a steaming mug. “Thank you.” He sniffed the tea, detecting hints of something spicy. Surprised, he asked, “What is this?”
“It’s my own blend. I, uh, I hope you like it.” Soren shifted nervously as he handed Katsuki his mug. It was hard to tell if he was nervous being near the alpha or over Izuku trying his tea.
“I’ll wait for it to cool,” Izuku said, setting it aside.
To his shock, Katsuki tip his head back and doused the back of his throat with the scalding tea. He smacked his lips and furrowed his brow at the empty mug. If he noticed both Izuku and Soren staring at him, he said nothing. After a moment, he set the mug down. “We used to have a traditional celebration drink. For when we came back victorious from a hunt or a fight or whatever. Reminds me of that. Not quite the same, but something like it.” He mulled over something and his eyes faded, disappearing into his past.
Izuku worried his lip over what Katsuki had said, then to Soren repeated, “I’ll just wait a moment longer.”
Soren smiled understandingly and turned to start cooking. Once his attention was elsewhere, Izuku leaned toward Katsuki. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?” Katsuki refocused on the present rather quickly. Maybe too quickly.
Izuku thought about asking him about it, but instead said, “You did just pour scalding tea down your throat.”
“Did it all the time. It’s how you drink anything with corder root in it.”
“Corder—” Izuku glanced at his tea. “What do you mean?”
“Corder root. You know,” Katsuki searched his face, clearly expecting something. “Special spice. We only used it for celebrations. For our best dishes. It was hard to find, or so I’m told.”
Izuku blinked at him, but it was Soren who spoke first, “You mean ginger root?”
“Ginger?” Katsuki glared back at him. “Never heard of it.”
“That’s what we call it.” Soren explained patiently.
Katsuki digested this information by picking at his teeth. He growled as some form of acknowledgement but clearly was starting to fade into the past.
Izuku sipped experimentally at his tea. He detected hints of lemon along with the slightly bitter flavor he assumed was ginger. After another sip, he did recognize it as something he’d tasted in other dishes before, but not very regularly. In the tea, the flavor was much stronger, starchier, coating his tongue and the back of his throat. In a way, it was relaxing.
“Thank you, Soren. I bet my Mom would like this,” he said.
Soren preened under the praise. “I got the idea from Kaya’s garden. She has so many unique plants. I want to learn how to use all of them to make delicious food!”
“I’m sure you will one day. Just don’t destroy her stock.” Izuku chuckled at Soren’s enthusiasm. It was nice to see the beta enjoying himself. He had a little spring to his movements when he was particularly happy. Izuku found he really enjoyed watching Soren be happy.
He frowned at the thought, wondering now if that meant Soren might be a good candidate as a mate. Would making Soren happy make Izuku happy? Would Soren be able to support the entire pack like he did Izuku’s family? It seemed cruel to heap so much pressure upon him. But Soren had asked for the pressure of taking care of the pack alpha’s family and had thrived under it. Maybe he’d also thrive under the pressure of ensuring the pack’s happiness.
Izuku looked away and drank his tea, upset he was thinking about such things at all.
At his side, he felt Katsuki watching him. The alpha at least had the good sense not to ask him about it. Instead, he asked, “You talk like Kaya’s garden is special.”
“It is.” Izuku laughed at even the thought. Then he remembered Katsuki would have no idea what he meant and set his tea aside. “Kaya’s mate, wonderful man I’m told, though he’s been long gone, he was an… eccentric I guess you could say. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the village, but used to wander around. He’d be gone for weeks, months, I’m told he disappeared for two years once. Everyone thought he was dead, including Kaya. But then he returned one day, with no warning, and went about as if nothing had happened.” He paused, remembering how Kaya softened whenever she spoke of her husband. Love etched with bone-deep grief. She wore it better than others.
“Anyway, whenever he returned from one of his trips, he’d usually bring back something for Kaya’s garden. Some strange plant or seeds no one had ever seen before. Lot of stuff in Kaya’s gardens are from places well beyond our territories. Sometimes he’d bring back other things as well. Clothes, for one.” Izuku glanced over at Katsuki.
Katsuki wasn’t dressed in the strange outfit Kaya had given him, opting for an eclectic mix of warrior garb and fisherman leggings. He seemed so uncomfortable whenever he wore a robe that no one had asked him to do so again. The tailors had pulled finished items from their chests to throw at him while they worked on recreating whatever it was that Katsuki had worn that day Neito and his companions had arrived. The process was a long one, though the tailors had seemed up for the task. Meanwhile Katsuki had found his own style, something he was more comfortable wearing. The leggings were tied at his waist and ankles, usually to keep fish from swimming up them though Izuku thought Katsuki only tied them such because the fisherman who’d given them to him instructed him to do so, and a longer tunic falling to his knees. The looped sleeves were clearly a bit cumbersome for him, but Katsuki was learning how to keep them from dragging through whatever happened to be around. It was a bit like teaching a pup to mind themself, if that pup was a bulked warrior alpha who had far too many teeth and knew how to use them.
Katsuki didn’t seem to notice the appraising look. Instead, he was focused on something else. “Did he ever talk about where he got the things he brought home?”
“I’ve never heard it. I don’t know if he told Kaya, but I know it was a bit of a game when he was alive. People would ask him what had happened and where he’d been and he’d tell these outlandish stories no one believed. He sometimes claimed he’d been the one to cultivate the plants he brought Kaya, even though Kaya’s the one who has the plant blessing.” Izuku let the conversation pause as Katsuki clearly thought through something, his eyes drifting to the side. “If you’re asking whether I know where he got those clothes from, then I don’t. But if you asked Kaya, she might be able to tell you.”
“She hasn’t said.” Katsuki replied simply. Izuku didn’t know if that meant he’d asked and she had refused to answer, or if she hadn’t offered and he hadn’t asked.
He sipped his tea again, finding the bitter flavor soothing. Kaya’s garden was limited, so only he and his family ever got to experience the odd flavors regularly, though every now and then she would have to harvest some crop to make room for another and the entire pack would be treated to whatever she had pulled from the earth. Usually around celebrations. Kaya had mentioned that she was holding onto something special for his mating announcement.
Izuku swallowed heavily, draining his tea. When he set it down, Soren was there to refill it and Katsuki’s, though he did so a little more cautiously with Katsuki. The alpha didn’t throw back his drink this time, letting it sit to cool hopefully. Izuku wondered if he’d burned his throat and didn’t want to repeat that mistake.
“Sounds like he traveled really far, then,” Katsuki said.
Izuku nodded, palming his mug. It was warm, the heat suffusing through his hands. He held it close to catch a little warmth on his face from the steam. “Did… did you travel far to reach our pack?”
“Farther than I remember, even. Lot of the early days traveling I’ve forgotten. Was still recovering from these, you know.” Katsuki ran a hand over the terrible scars. Izuku had grown used to them, so much so that he didn’t think about how those scars were relatively new to Katsuki. He hadn’t been born with them as Soren had been born with his limp. It was something he might still be getting used to.
“Do they hurt?” Izuku asked.
Katsuki shrugged. “Every now and then. Itches, mostly.”
“The healers could probably give you something to help.” Izuku suggested.
Katsuki shook his head. “Can’t turn back time, shula. No point in trying.”
“That’s not what I—” Izuku bit off his words. He searched for something else to say, but found there was nothing. Katsuki, for his part, seemed to want a moment to himself, so the conversation lapsed and Izuku let it.
Soren cooked their supper and laid it out in front of them. Fresh fish, as promised, the skin crispy and the flesh still moist. Izuku purred happily, forgetting his company, and startled when Katsuki chuckled.
“Have to admit. It is really good.” He bowed his head to Soren, a small token of his thanks. Soren smiled, pleased. “You have good taste, shula.”
“I know,” Izuku mumbled into his food. He paused when Katsuki laughed and realized what he’d said. “I mean— thank you?”
Katsuki grinned, teeth gleaming.
Toward the end of their meal, as people started trickling out of the dining hall, a few started trickling back in. Council members, Izuku noticed. He craned his neck, looking for his father or mother but neither made an appearance. No one even glanced up at the head table until Shoto stormed through the door.
There were few times in his life Izuku could remember the air crackling around Shoto, when he grew so upset that his blessing spewed out in ragged bursts of cold and hot air. Once, after a particularly terrible argument with his father, a burst of snow had erupted from around Shoto, coating Izuku in a fine powder. Shoto had been mortified but Izuku only laughed. There had been other times as well – less pleasant times not so easily laughed off.
This was instantly different from any of those times. The air around Shoto sparkled, little ice crystals forming and melting almost instantly until steam seemed to pour out from around him. The pack shied away as Shoto drew near, muttering amongst themselves. If he noticed, Shoto didn’t react. His attention was focused on the head table. On Izuku. And he was walking quickly.
Realizing something was wrong, Izuku stood, sensing Katsuki move at his side. Immediately, Shoto’s eyes pinpointed onto the alpha and he bared his teeth and growled, the crystals around him expanding, hissing as they collapsed into steam. Those nearest Shoto yelped and fled.
“Shoto, calm down,” Izuku reached for him but Shoto snarled a little louder. Izuku froze, not understanding why the alpha was acting so aggressive. He’d never seen Shoto act that way before. It was almost as if… as if he were demanding obedience. Subservience. Almost as if he were trying to dominate the entire pack. Izuku included.
Something hot rose up Izuku’s throat at the very thought and it came out as a low hiss, a warning to back off. Shoto’s eyes were slits, focused entirely on him.
“Shoto,” Izuku said again.
Shoto only growled, then yelped as water was dumped on him.
Izuku startled at the sudden movement, took a moment to realize what had happened. It took Shoto even longer, the steam drifting off his body in waves but the ice crystals subsiding as he shook himself from the water. Nearby, Katsuki stood, clearly ready for a fight. The bucket of water was still clenched in his hands.
“Katsuki!” Izuku tried to admonish but his voice felt small. He couldn’t look at Katsuki.
All he saw was the way Shoto was suddenly staring down at his hands, at the steam rising up from his skin. He let out a shaky breath, and turned without a word.
“Shoto!” Izuku called him back but the alpha was rushing to get out of the building, people leaping from his path. Before he could do anything, Shoto had swept outside and a deathly quiet overcame the pack.
It took Izuku a moment to realize most eyes were on him, and that the others were on Katsuki, still holding the bucket in his hands. Katsuki recovered first, setting the bucket back where it was usually sat near Soren’s station. The alpha muttered something like an apology to the beta, who looked frozen in confusion and fear, then sat back in his seat and picked through the last of his meal.
Izuku couldn’t think about his food. All he could think about was the look in Shoto’s eyes, the fury then the terror that had overcome him, the way the pack had scurried away from him much as they did his father when he grew enraged. How Shoto must have seen it, when he’d been knocked back to his senses.
But more than anything, all Izuku could wonder was what had sent him into such a state to begin with.
He searched the crowd and located Mirai almost immediately, the tall beta standing a little ways off but near enough to clearly want to be noticed. He dipped his head when Izuku saw him, and more when Izuku growled.
“You,” he hooked a finger toward the head beta, not caring who was watching, “what happened?”
Mirai adjusted his spectacles. He walked up to the head table, much too calm for how tense everyone else was. He walked right past Izuku to examine the remnants of their meal, to cast a curious look over to Katsuki, before turning back to Izuku.
“Finish your supper, Aeon. Your father won’t be happy if you start skipping meals.” And with that, he simply walked away.
Izuku watched, expecting him to turn back, to say something else, anything else. But Mirai let him standing there, the pack watching, the air heavy with confusion. No promise for resolution. No answers. Just a puddle where Shoto had once stood.
Izuku only moved when Katsuki scoffed behind him. “That guy,” the alpha growled and Izuku turned, almost numb, to watch as he lifted his mug and waited for Soren to refill his tea. When he had, Katsuki knocked it back just as he had at the beginning of the meal. He set the mug down hard enough to rattle the table, his eyes narrowed toward where Mirai had disappeared. “That guy’s an asshole.”
Izuku pressed his lips together. He felt everyone watching him, felt the heaviness of the air on his shoulders.
Slowly, he took his seat next to Katsuki, staring down at what remained of his food. He didn’t even have the strength to pick at it.
He said nothing when Katsuki reached across and snatched the last bit of fish from his plate, snapping it up hungrily. But he did feel a little better watching the alpha slowly clean his plate for him.
