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Chapter Text

The forest pressed suffocatingly around them, the air thick with mist and the heavy scent of damp earth. Bakugo scowled; his sword secured in his scabbard, his sharp eyes scanning through the dense trees, and his trained nose trying to sniff out the prey that had escaped their hands.

His friends close behind him, securing any possible blind spot, a formation they had very well ingrained due to the various excursions they had gone to ever since they’d turned 16.

Kirishima fastened his pace to get close to Bakugo. “We’re getting too close to where the savages lands are supposed to be, man.” He murmured, voice tense.

Denki let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck with the back of his dagger, “Yeah well, as long as we don’t cross it, we’re good… right?”.

Bakugo snorted, “Cowards”.

 He pushed forward through the bushes, guiding his group through the thick forest. They had been hunting and looking for supplies for a whole week, they were finally planning to go back to barbarian land but their last prey decided that it wanted to be a survivor. But Bakugo Katsuki decided that he will not lose to a wild boar. No, they would find that fucking boar and then make it back to their land.

A crack of branches snapped to their left.

They all went into full defense. Bakugo unsheathed his sword, expertly holding it In front of him. Kirishima and Mina half-shifted, their dragon claws already out and their scales acting as armor. Sero and Denki both drew out their daggers and crossbows, getting into a fighting stance.

From the bushes emerged a big creature. Grotesque and muscular in appearance, its skin a grayish tone. The creature’s arms almost reaching the ground from how long they were. But even more disturbing was the exposed brain on the top of the creature’s head.

“This fucking thing,” Bakugo murmured under his breath; angry eyes trained on the approaching creature.

A couple of months ago, back in their land, they had two attacks from some creatures similar to this one. They had no idea of what they were or where they came from, but still, they had been able to overtake the creatures back then. Sure, they had been with the rest of their tribe but taking out one of these fuckers was no problem for them.

Or at least that’s what they thought.

Behind the first creature, a couple of figures hidden by the fog were approaching. One turned to two, two turned to six, and last thing they know, they are completely surrounded by these things.

“Motherfuckers!” Bakugo screamed before charging, the others following suit. The first creature lunged, and the other followed it. Bakugo easily took the first one down, plunging his sword into the exposed brain, but, before he could react, the second one had already been charging and it smashed his massive, grotesque arm against the blond’s side, the force of the blow sent him flying, crashing into one of the nearby trees.

“Bakugo!” he heard someone, probably Kirishima, scream.

Chaos.

More and more of those creatures erupted from the shadows, each one more vicious than the previous one. He could see his friends trying to get to him, but those creatures kept getting in the way. Katsuki tried to get up, using his sword to stand up. As soon as he was able to stand up, another creature attacked and sent him flying even further away, chasing him with the other three on its tail.

He could hear what he thought were his friends calling his name, but everything was blurry and muffled. All he could see were the approaching, horrifying figures of those things getting closer to him. Punching, kicking, and swinging him farther and farther away from the other.

He managed to blow a couple away from him, but by the time he had gotten rid of one, a different one appeared too fast for him to properly react. But still Katsuki fought. He fought like a demon, rage and adrenaline carrying him through the fight. Until a heavy strike clipped the back of his head, sending him down. His vision blurred, pain washing all over him.

He stumbled, tried to stand-

Last thing he could see was a figure standing In front of him, stance almost protective.

Then he crashed down. Darkness swallowed him whole.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Up in the trees. Three figures clad in animal skin and faces covered by wooden masks watched the whole thing. From the moment the barbarians had arrived close to their lands — ready to attack, if necessary — to the moment the creatures arrived and attacked the unsuspecting group.

They had followed the unfamiliar scents of the strangers for miles. Foreign alphas and betas stalking way too close to their territory.

They hadn’t expected to watch a battle unfold.

Down below, a blond warrior covered by nothing more than a red cape and leather pants fought fiercely against a pack of the creatures. Despite his obvious strength, his explosions tearing through the air, he was losing. His movements slowed down. Blood seeped from the deep gashes on his arms and legs.

He went down.

The creatures closed in, ready for the kill.

“Should we…?” one of the figures whispered, voice unsure. Her deer-shaped mask in place.

“They are strangers,” a second figure voiced, a mask resembling a cheetah in place. He rested his hand on the hilt of his blade. “We owe them nothing”.

The third figure watched silently, an intricate dragon design carved on his mask. His eyes, not hidden by the mask, blazed with something fierce and undeniable.

Without a word, he leapt down from the branch he was standing on. Graceful, silent as a ghost, and stood in front of the blond alpha. Spear in front of him.

“Izuku!” the two figures hissed, but followed after. The decision had been made.

The three attacked with calculated expertise. Not giving the creatures a second to react before they were taken down. The three masked figures worked silently, but there was no doubt that they had fought together before. They each stayed out of the other’s path, aiding only when necessary.

The fight was quick, brutal.

When it was over, the beasts lay scattered, bloody and broken. Some of them getting away mid-fight.

The three figures walked over and stood over the blond, unconscious warrior. Bleeding heavily.

There was a silent moment, a choice to make.

They exchanged glances. Without needing to say anything, they understood each other.

Izuku knelt first, sliding his arms under the unconscious alpha, mindful of his wounds. “Let’s take him back.”, he said firmly. The other two figures simply nodded and followed the green-eyed boy into the shadows of the wilderness, toward their hidden village.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The scent of herbs and smoke filled the air.

Katsuki’s body ached, sharp, burning aches deep in his muscles and bones, but his instincts screamed louder than the pain.

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who was touching him. All he knew was that, right now, he was vulnerable.

And Bakugo Katsuki did not do vulnerable.

With a feral growl, he surged upright from the woven mat. Crimson eyes wild and sharp. Bandages tore, his body screamed in protest, but he didn’t care.

Two figures in strange clothing stepped forward, a tall woman with long, black hair tied in a ponytail and a broad-shouldered boy with some sort of framed crystals on his face, both with hands raised in peace.

“Please calm down!” the woman said urgently. “You haven’t healed yet; you’ll re-open your wounds!”

Bakugo bared his teeth at her words, explosions sparking in his palms, ignoring the obvious pain. 

“Calm yourself,” the man said, trying to grab the blonde’s extended arm.

“Touch me and you’re dead!”, the blond alpha said, now both hands raised and pointing to both alphas.

He stumbled to his feet, swaying dangerously. But even injured, his presence was fierce. Too fierce for even the two alphas to contain, mostly not wanting to aggravate the blonde’s wounds.

The room buzzed with tension.

Then…

The door slipped open, and a small figure entered. A lean masked figure clad in animal skin, moving with predatory grace that commanded space.

The stranger’s eyes — glowing green behind the mask — locked onto Katsuki.

The blond snarled at the newcomer. But the snarl tuned out almost instantly as soon as a heavenly smell hit his nose. Something primal inside him, something stronger, froze.

The masked figure walked closer, unhurried, fearless.

Bakugo growled lowly, ready to fight if needed — but then.

The stranger removed his mask and Katsuki almost forgot that he had to breathe.

Before him stood a boy — younger than him, probably — with green hair in wild, untamed curls and the most stunning, vivid green eyes he had ever seen. A true emerald gifted by the spirits of the forest. His face a constellation of freckles, beautiful in a way that mocked the stars themselves, as if the heavens had knelt to kiss his skin and left a mark behind.

An omega.

A radiant, mesmerizing omega.

But there was no submission in his eyes. Only strength.

Calmly — almost gently — the omega approached, stopping until he was right in front of Katsuki. Who was trembling, instincts flaring in all directions, all over the place.

The omega placed a firm hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. Not asking, not pleading. Commanding. “Calm yourself, alpha,” the omega said, voice low and sweet. “You’re safe here, we will not harm you.”

Something in his tone, sweet and assuring, forced Katsuki to listen. Slowly, his trembling stopped. The explosions died in his hands.

He stared, wide-eyed and panting at the boy. This impossibly gentle and strong creature. And for the first time in a while he felt —

He felt safe.

The omega smiled at him, a soft, ruinous thing. Bright as sunlight itself, a smile that cracked something open in Katsuki’s chest.

“We’re sorry if we scared you,” the omega said, sincere. “We truly just wish to heal you, if you would allow us to.”

Katsuki opened his mouth. He wanted to curse, to shout, to deny everything… but nothing came out. He just…

… stared.

He stared as the beautiful omega, with arms and hands heavily bruised but still soft, called for herbs and bandages. Could only follow the instructions to lie back down as the omega promised to make him whole again. Could only lie there as darkness consumed him once again, except this time he felt safer than ever.

Chapter Text

“We can’t just leave him,” Sero said, breathing hard as they regrouped. “Where could he be? There’s no way he was able to outrun those things himself…”

“He’s Bakugo,” Kirishima voiced. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he somehow had done just that.”

One day.

They had been separated from their friend for a whole day now. After the creatures attacked the previous day, when they had been ripped apart from their friend, Kirishima and Mina had been able to shift and carry Denki and Sero away from those things. But they had not been able to find their hot-headed leader.

They had searched through caves, scoured the forest from the skies, looked in every nook and cranny, but they had no luck. They set camp in a cave up in the mountains, away from danger, and had returned to look for their friend first thing in the morning. But the blonde had completely disappeared. At this point, there was just one place where they hadn’t looked…

The sound of movement made the group come to a halt, and soon enough they were — once again — surrounded.

Three figures emerged from the shadows. Silent, faces covered by wooden masks and dressed in clothes that helped them blend with the woods. The four barbarians stood close together, weapons already drawn in defense.

“Uh… guys?” Sero was the first one to speak up, his voice trembling just enough to be noticeable, and his crossbow pointing at one of the figures.

Before anyone could say anything else, one of the masked figures stepped forward. He — because it was easy to tell it was a male — was smaller than the rest, slimmer too. But his stance was confident, the four barbarians knew that this wasn’t someone they could underestimate.

“What are you doing creeping into savage lands?” the voice asked, calm and clear.

Oh, man. They had been so focused on finding Bakugo that they hadn’t even noticed that they had already crossed into savage territory. Sure, they were four against three, but they were not in shape suitable for a fight with the three savages. Especially considering the brutal stories revolving around them.

Kirishima slowly raised his hands, — claws drawn back in — palms out “we’re just looking for our friend. We didn’t mean to cross into your territory.”

Another figure, the tallest one, strutted forward and asked, “What friend?”

“Oh, well… he has blond hair, very spiky. About this tall,” Mina gestured roughly with her hand, her tone kind of desperate. “he is very loud too. I think you’d know if you saw him.”

The three savages exchanged glances.

“The one with the red cape? The blond guy we found unconscious and bleeding out yesterday in the woods?” a feminine voice broke the silent stares being passed through the three masked figures.

Denki’s face lit up like a switch had flipped. “YES! That’s him!” he said, louder than necessary, his relief spilling out in his voice.

The girl with the deer mask tilted her head before speaking again. “I mean, he was… intense, at first.” The dude with the cheetah mask nodded firmly, “Indeed, he was, but that was to be expected. Once we explained things, he stopped trying to blow us to pieces.”

The four friends blinked and stared, gaping as if something crazy had been said.

“He… huh?” Mina replied dumbly.

“He actually allowed you to explain things before exploding you to pieces?” Sero voiced, very confused.

Kaminari leaned closer to Kirishima and whispered, “… are we sure that we’re talking about the same guy?”

Kirishima didn’t answer. He was still trying to process the image of Bakugo, waking up after being taken down, in an unfamiliar place and surrounded by unfamiliar people. And… calm. No yelling, no explosions.

How unsettling.

“I mean, he did try to when he woke up, but he calmed down soon enough,” the smaller male figure voiced this time. “We can take you to him, if you’d like, and if you behave yourselves. He is resting in our mender’s shack. Surely, he will wake up soon.”

The four barbarians agreed, though a bit skeptical about whether they could trust the three strangers or not, but this was their only clue as to where Bakugo might be.

With that, the seven of them started walking. The four barbarians follow the three savages who move smoothly across the woods.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The path twisted through the trees, overgrown with thick roots and moss that clung to their shoes with every step. The light dimmed under the canopy, the trees packed so tightly that it made it difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

They continued until the path spilled into a wide clearing, surrounded by towering wooden stakes that were sharpened to jagged points — a primitive barricade that loomed like the ribcage of some ancient beast. Dark leather banners hung from them, inked with some strange symbols that bled down the fabric like claw marks.

It looked threatening and uninviting.

At the entrance stood three more figures.

Their faces were also hidden by wooden masks, each different. One had horns curling from the sides, another was shaped like a nasty-looking frog, and the third had a long, birdlike beak. Spears were planted in the ground beside them, the tips gleaming with something dark and sticky. Not quite like blood, but close enough to make the barbarian’s stomachs churn.

The figures didn’t speak; they didn’t move… they just watched.

Kirishima slowed down, instinctively shifting in front of the others. “Okay, I’m officially creeped out”, Sero whispered behind him.

The smaller dude — the one with the dragon mask — stopped in his tracks and turned to them, or more specifically, to the other two savages that had been with him. “You guys go ahead and take them to their friend,” he said, voice calm but firm. He shifted the strap of his satchel over one shoulder, the faint scent of the herbs lingered in the air around him. “I still need to gather some herbs for treatment.”

His eyes met Kirishima’s for a moment. There was no threat in them, but there was a weight. A leader’s weight, something that demanded authority and left no room for question.

Kirishima’s eyes hardened as he stepped forward, distrust shadowing his face, “You sure Bakugo is okay?” he asked, low and wary. “Because if this is some kind of-”

“He’s alive,” Izuku interrupted smoothly, eyes narrowing just enough to cut. “He was bleeding out when we found him. He is not anymore. You should be thanking us.”

There was a beat of silence. The air in the forest felt heavier somehow, like it had thickened around them. The other masked figures stood around him, silent and observant. They didn’t speak, but their presence felt like the edge of a blade against the skin.

Izuku’s gaze drifted from Kirishima to the rest of the group — Sero, Denki, and Mina — taking his time, studying them as if he was dissecting their every weak point.

“Here’s the deal,” he said quietly, his voice lowering into something sharp and cold. “You’ll be escorted inside and taken to the mender’s shack to see your friend. You will keep your hands where they can see them. No powers. No outbursts. No sudden moves.”

He let the silence linger before adding —

“Because if you try anything… my people will not hesitate to put you down.”

Kirishima’s fist clenched at his sides.

Denki swallowed hard.

Mina took a step closer to Sero without realizing it.

“Understand?” he finalized

Kirishima gave a tight nod. “Yeah, we got it.”

“Good.” He murmured. And just like that, he turned away. Slipping back into the forest as if it was welcoming him. Silent. Effortless. The branches didn’t crack beneath his boots, the forest looked as if it was parting for him. Within seconds… he vanished, swallowed by the wilderness, as if he had never been there at all.

“What the hell…” Denki’s low voice carried through the silence.

One of the masked figures — the girl — stepped forward, gesturing for them to move.

The four barbarians followed. They didn’t speak. They didn’t dare to.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The gates groaned as they opened inward, revealing the Savage camp beyond.

The barbarian group stepped through cautiously, eyes scanning every shadow. The guards who had been at the entrance had not said a word. The barbarians’ eyes scanned through the place as they walked, cautious of every shadow.

For a moment, it felt like they were walking into one of those grim stories that they were told as kids so they would stay within the borders and not wander far, unless they wanted the ‘scary, man-eating savages to take them’. Stories about the people of the wilderness who painted themselves with blood, who ate intruders, had no language, no reason, no human soul. Savages.

Sero stepped close to Kirishima and whispered, “Man, are we sure we aren’t being led to our death?”

Kirishima didn’t respond, he focused on keeping his brave façade as they were being led.

But as they stepped closer, deeper into the village, the environment shifted.

The masks disappeared.

Inside the camp, people walked lively and freely, faces uncovered. They were chatting away using only a few words here and there that they weren’t familiar with. There were still weapons — knives attached to hips, bows slung over shoulders — but they were carried casually, like tools rather than threats. Children ran through the dirt paths, some helping carry baskets, others chasing each other around.

The homes were primitive but clearly sturdy. They appeared to be crafted from wood, stone and thick hide. Many were decorated with feathers, beads, or hand-painted symbols to make them stand out from others.

And the people… they didn’t look monstrous and terrifying.

They had a rugged appearance, sure — sun-worn skin, unkept hair, and patched clothing made from whatever they had — but there was warmth in their expression, curiosity even. One older woman even chuckled softly at Denki’s wide-eyed, gawking expression.

“They look… normal?” Kirishima murmured, confused.

“Well, normal AND terrifying,” Denki added. “But not ‘eat your eyes’ terrifying, you know?” Sero nodded at this.

Mina glanced around; the stories they had been told seemed far from what they were looking at.

The stories made them to be monstrous, beast-looking humans. Mindless, violent and savage in every sense of the word. But now, walking through the heart of the camp, those tales felt skewed. Twisted even. As if they had been written by someone who had seen something unfamiliar and decided to fear it rather than learn more about it.

The further they walked into the savage village, the more tension in their shoulders shifted. From coiled fear to something hesitant, almost like wonder.

Ahead, the girl — the one with the deer-shaped mask — paused, waiting for them to catch up. She pulled off her mask, revealing her sun-kissed face. Cheeks round and rosy and brown eyes that didn’t feel unkind, just sharp.

“Don’t stray,” she said, voice light but firm. “The camp isn’t dangerous to you, but we don’t want you to get lost here. That wouldn’t be wise.”

“Noted,” Kirishima said, offering a polite nod. “Um… thanks. For letting us in and not tying us up or something,” he offered a wobbly smile.

The girl smirked, eyebrow raised, “You’re not threats. As long as you behave, we’re good.”

They passed a gathering spot in the center of the camp where smoke drifted from a large fire pit. An elder sat nearby, carving runes into bone while humming slightly. Children ran around, singing a joyful tune in a language they weren’t familiar with. One of them paused and ran toward them. He got something and offered it to Mina, a chunk of something wrapped in leaves.

She hesitated, then smiled and took it with a quiet “thanks”. She unwrapped it, revealing a carved bone rune, like the ones the lady was still carving. This one looks like a stick raising both arms, very tribal. She didn’t know what it meant, though.

“Algiz,” Mina snapped her head towards the voice. It was the blue-haired dude. He had taken off his mask, revealing his square-shaped face. A pair of framed crystals now covering his eyes and mask attached to his hip. “It means protection, spirit or guardian. The little one sees you as someone he would feel safe with, or as a warrior-spirit worth honoring.” He crossed his arms.

“The kids on our tribe offer runes to their elders,” the girl continued, smiling softly. “They are good judges of spirit.”

Mina felt her heart warm at this. She looked back at the kid — who had gone back to playing with his friends — and smiled softly at him. She wrapped the rune again and carefully put it into her travel bag.

“Oh, right!” the girl interrupted the silence, punching her fist into her palm. “We haven’t even introduced ourselves.” She looked at the boy beside her, whose expression shifted to mortified.

“Heavens, how rude of us.” He stated and bowed his head slightly. “Tenya Iida, scout and researcher.”

The girl beamed and bowed her head slightly too, “Ochako Uraraka, hunter and one of the head warriors.”

 “Ejiro Kirishima, right hand and hunter.” Kirishima introduced himself first, bowing slightly.” Mina stepped forward and smiled. “Mina Ashido. Scout and hunter. And his mate.” She said, smiling at Kirishima who smiled back.

“Sero Hanta,” said Sero, his gaze flicking around the village. “Ya always keep spears pointed at visitors or are we special?” he asked, voice light in a joking manner.

“Only when we don’t know if they are dangerous,” Iida replied.

“Kaminari Denki,” Denki offered nervously. “And I would like to confirm that I am NOT dangerous.”

“The guy you found was our friend and leader in line of our tribe,” Kirishima spoke again. “Katsuki Bakugo, thank you for keeping him under your care.”

Ochako waved her hand dismissively, “No problem. Although, if anything, it’s Izuku who you should be thanking. He is the one who decided to help him and bring him back. Even vouched for him and took care of his wounds personally.”

Denki tilted his head, thoughtful. “Izuku is… the guy with the dragon mask? Scary ass dude form earlier?” he asked, thinking back to the threat from earlier.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Iida confirmed, Ochako nodded beside him.

“Man, that dude is scary as fuck,” Sero added, shivering.

Ochako and Iida chuckled at this, “Yeah, he is. But he is a sweetheart once you properly meet him.” Ochako smiled at them.

The four barbarians looked at each other. Somehow, that felt impossible to them.

“So, is he like the tribe leader or something?” Denki asked, curious.

Iida adjusted his frame crystals and shook his head, “No, he is… close to the leaders, yes, but he is not, yet at least.”

Mina tilted her head, “Then why did you just listen to him, about bringing a stranger into your camp, I mean.” Ochako looked at her and simply said, “Because we trust him, everyone here does.” She smiled at the surprised barbarians.

They were interrupted by a loud crash as they got near to the mender’s hut. The six of them paused, alert. Another crash, along with a loud growl, cut through the silence.

Mina, Sero, Denki, and Kirishima shared a look along with a defeated sigh.

“Yup, that’s him alright,” Denki muttered.

Bakugo was awake.

And he was not happy, from the sounds of it.

Chapter Text

As they entered the shack, they immediately came face to face with the absolute disaster that the rampaging alpha had made. Tables and chairs were flipped, some jars were broken and clothes absolutely torn. One of the healers, a tall girl with black hair tied into a ponytail, got near them. A small piece of wood in front of her, shielding her from any flying objects.

“He is going to tear this entire place down if he keeps this up,” The girl said.

Ochako stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture, “Hey, Mr. barbarian? How about you just-”

A wooden bowl whistled past her face, shattering against the wall behind her.

“Okay, he’s not in the mood,” she murmured to herself.

Bakugo was a storm let loose, bruised and bleeding, along with sweat beading on his temple. His bandages were hanging off of him, half-undone. His eyes were wild and feral, darting around the tent like a trapped beast looking for a way out.

Kirishima reached out just in time to grab Iida by the arm, keeping him from taking any step closer to the rampaging blond alpha. “Don’t. He’s completely gone. Full beast mode.”

Denki winced, “Yup, we’ve officially entered ‘rampaging cryptid’ territory.”

“Does this happen often?” the dark-haired woman asked, nervous.

“Only when he’s disoriented or confused,” Mina murmured, eyes focused on her leader's shaking, sparkling hands. “A lot more often than you think, actually.”

Bakugo spun, growling low in his throat, lip curled like a wolf warning the pack to stay back. One of the healers tried to calm him again, only to be roughly shoved aside—not maliciously, but as if Bakugo couldn’t even register they were there.

“Where the fuck is he?!” he howled, voice cracked and raw, fury laced with panic.

Kirishima finally made a move, getting a bit closer to the blonde. His skin hardening with his scales, “Who are you talking about? If you calm down, we can-”

He didn’t get to finish, having to put his arms in front of him to avoid getting hit in the face with the chair the blond alpha had thrown at him.

“Where is he?!” Bakugo roared, eyes glowing and palms cracking with threat.

No one dared to stop him. The savages outside of the tent were getting their spears ready just in case they had to take him down.

Then…

The door was yanked open with a loud crash.

Everyone froze.

Someone stood at the entrance. A green-haired omega. Chest heaving as if he had raced all the way here. A satchel of herbs clenched in one hand, his other hand curled into a tight fist at his side.

For a long, tense moment, he just stared. He stared at the overturned bowls, the bloody mats, the very obvious trail of destruction inside of what had once been a calm, orderly infirmary.

He inhaled and barked.

“SIT.DOWN”

The command cracked through the shack like lightning, making everyone jump.

Even the four barbarians—hardened warriors raised in chaos and trained to never freeze in battle—snapped to attention like misbehaving kids caught by their parents.

But the real miracle?

Bakugo.

Bakugo, who had just been tearing the place with fury, blinked-

Paused-

And sat down.

Hard. Right onto the mat. Blood was still trickling from his reopened wounds, hands limp in his lap.

The silence that followed hit like a falling boulder.

Denki’s jaw hit the floor.

Mina squeaked.

Sero’s mouth imitated that of a fish.

And Kirishima stared like he had just witnessed divine intervention.

The rest of the savages and healers just let out a sigh, happy that someone had been able to calm the blond before they had to forcefully put him down.

The omega marched forward with unshaken steps. He dropped the satchel by the nearest healer and knelt in front of Bakugo.

“You tore your stitches, again.” He muttered sternly, already pulling out fresh bandages. “If you keep thrashing like that, you’re going to bleed out, and I’m not in the mood to clean that type of mess.”

Bakugo said nothing.

No snarling. No glaring.

Just… stared. Wide-eyed and focused. Like a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle, watching the one person who seemed to know how to hold it.

The omega huffed under his breath. “Honestly. Barbarian alphas… you’re all worse than feral beasts.” He stated, a pout adorning his face.

Bakugo didn’t growl or frown at the insult.

He just sat there. Shoulders hunched, head bowed slightly and his gaze following every movement of the healer’s hand as he worked.

From the sidelines, his clan members looked at him as if they were watching a miracle unfold. Damn, they might as well be watching just that.

“Is this real life?” Denki whispered.

 “Are we dead?” Mina added.

“Did we die and woke up in some weird dream where Bakugo actually listens to someone?” Sero muttered, looking down at his hands as if he was expecting them to disappear.

Kirishima turned to Ochako and Iida, he pointed at the green-haired, still stunned, and asked, “okay, but… who is this guy?”

Iida raised an eyebrow. “You've already met him.”    

“That’s Izuku,” Ochako added, as it was obvious.

“Izuku…?” Mina blinked. “You mean the guy from earlier? Dude with the dragon mask?” Sero asked now, voice wobbly and nervous.

“Yes, that would be correct.” Iida nodded, arms crossed.

Silence.

Then four sets of barbarian eyes went back to the omega sitting tending to their leader. Expression stern but eyes filled with kindness. Features soft and round, not unlikely of an omega. His body was covered in some scars, but it still looked soft. The four set of eyes went back to Iida and Ochako, all of them bulged and shocked.

“You’re telling me,” Denki said slowly, pointing at the calm, freckled face healer tending Bakugo’s wounds with gentle hands, “that sweet looking dude over there—”

“Is the same terrifying, masked guy who threatened to put us down like wild dogs?” Kirishima finished, half in disbelief, half in awe.

Izuku didn’t even look up, focused on covering the scars on Bakugou’s face, “All of that is still on the table, ya know?” he said. “Especially if you keep talking as if I’m not in the room.”

The four of them shut up immediately, shivering at the omega's cold tone. The other savages around them chuckled, entertained by the four barbarians’ reactions. Some of the other savages, healers inside the hut, started introducing themselves to the four barbarians, and vice versa. They learned that the girl with the ponytail was called Momo and that she was, apparently, one of the village's main healers.

Izuku cracked a smile at this, going back to tending to Bakugo. He worked quickly and efficiently. His fingers were steady as he dabbed at Bakugo’s wounds with a cloth soaked in bitter-smelling herbs.

His brow furrowed in concentration, unaware of the intense stare of the blond and the chaos unfolding around him.

Bakugo watched him like a hawk. Not a twitch of muscle. Not a growl. Not even a flinch when Izuku pressed against one of his gnarly-looking wounds.

He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling like a drumbeat. Not with pain, but with restraint. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping his knees so hard his knuckles turned white. He looked like he was one wrong touch away from snapping.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t because it was Izuku. So close. So gentle. So… soft spoken while tending to him. Bakugo Katsuki, the barbarian who had gone feral just seconds ago.

Kirishima, Denki, Mina, and Sero hovered by the entrance, caught between the need to bolt and the overwhelming need to witness whatever the hell was going on.

“Bro,” Denki whispered to Kirishima, voice laced with disbelief. “He’s… vibrating.”

And he was. A fine tremor ran through Bakugo’s frame, like tension building in a drawn bow, moments before release. He was sweating—not from pain or exertion, but from pure instinct clawing its way to the surface.

Kirishima squinted, taking a better look at the blond, “he’s scent drunk,” he muttered.

“He’s what now?” Mina asked. “Scent drunk. He’s totally locked in on the omega’s scent. He is… romantically feral?” Sero tried to explain.

“He is fighting hard not to climb him like a tree,” Denki added, earning a glare from Kirishima.

Bakugo’s gaze was locked on Izuku’s face, like it held all the secrets of the universe. His pupils were blown wide, jaw slack, ears slightly pink.

The rest of the place had become a blur.

Iida had taken off his glasses and was cleaning them furiously, muttering equations to himself like they might explain the phenomenon before him. Ochako was biting her knuckles to keep from laughing. Momo had turned to face the wall, shoulders trembling with silent mirth.

“Is he panting?” Mina whispered. “Oh my god, he’s actually… he’s—”

“He’s smitten,” Kirishima muttered. “If he had a tail, it’d be wagging.”

Izuku, utterly oblivious to the commentary behind him, huffed a quiet sigh and reached for fresh bandages. His touch was gentle but firm as he cleaned the blood from Bakugo’s side. He muttered something under his breath—possibly a scolding—and Bakugo visibly shivered in response.

It was like watching a wolf pup get patted on the head and pretending he didn’t like it.

“Okay,” Mina whispered, voice high-pitched with restrained glee. “But how is the same terrifying masked dragon dude from earlier also this soft-looking omega with healing hands and a scolding voice?”

“It is him,” Ochako whispered. “Same guy.”

Denki blinked rapidly. “I thought the mask was, like, metaphorical! Or a different person! You’re telling me the scary omega with the ‘don’t mess with me’ aura is this cinnamon roll??”

“I thought he was gonna eat us alive,” Sero added. “Now he’s healing Bakugo like a medieval housewife.”

Kirishima, arms still crossed, sighed like a man watching his best friend walk into a stampede. “Guys. I think he’s in love.”

Mina squeaked. “I knew it! I knew it from the moment he sat down like a trained dog!”

Izuku, still unaware, looked up to check Bakugo’s temperature. His hand lightly brushed Bakugo’s forehead.

Bakugo visibly held his breath.

Everyone in the room held theirs too.

Then Izuku tutted and said, “You're burning up. Of course you are. Honestly. Barbarian Alphas…” he continues, muttering something too low for them to hear.

Bakugo Katsuki, destroyer of beasts, screamer of insults, terror of the tribe… didn’t snarl.

Didn’t snap.

He just melted.

And if possible, sat even stiller.

Sero slowly collapsed against the wall, muttering, “We’re doomed.”

Kirishima nodded in grim agreement. “This man is so gone.”

Mina beamed. “This is the best day of my life.”

Kirishima sighed at this. He already knew this was going to be slightly problematic. When Bakugo decided he wanted something, someone, there was nothing on this earth or beyond it that could stop him.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Meanwhile, Izuku was blissfully unaware of the swirling chaos barely two feet away from him. His concentration relaxed, the furrow in his brow smoothing out.

“There.” He said, settling back on his heels. His hands rested on his thighs as he looked at the blond alpha, face adorned with the tiniest, purest smile. A smile that hit Bakugo like a brick to the chest.

The alpha's breath hitched, audibly.

Kirishima, Denki, Sero, and Mina—even Iida, Ochako, and Momo—all froze like woodland creatures sensing a predator nearby. Except the predator was drooling and wagging its metaphorical tail at an omega.

Bakugo’s expression had shifted from tense to something sort of soft. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated. His lips parted slightly, savoring the image in front of him.

He looked like a man seeing the sun for the first time.

Oh. Was that…

A low, barely-there rumble started deep in his chest.

Izuku blinked. “Are you… growling?”

Bakugo’s eyes widened in panic. His mouth snapped shut, fangs digging slightly into his lip as he clenched his jaw in desperation.

It wasn’t a growl.

It was a purr.

A full-bodied, involuntary, alpha purr. The kind meant to soothe and omega, to reassure and comfort during bonding or stress. Deep, resonant, and gentle.

Mina slapped both hands over her mouth, eyes huge.

Denki choked. “He’s purring. He’s actually purring.”

Ochako leaned toward Momo, whispering frantically, “What’s wrong with him?! Is he sick? Is this like—like a mating fever?!”

Momo, very pale, replied, “I’ve read about this. It’s… It’s a biological response. He’s trying to court him.”

“Court?!” Iida hissed. “In a medical hut?! While he’s still bleeding?! That’s not proper protocol!”

Izuku pressed the back of his hand to Bakugo’s forehead. “You don’t seem feverish...”

Bakugo whimpered.

Audibly.

Mina collapsed sideways into Kirishima, who looked like he’d just witnessed a unicorn explode.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, giggling into his chest. “He whimpered, Eijiro. Katsuki Bakugo whimpered.”

Sero clutched at Denki for dear life. “I feel like I’m watching an animal documentary on the world’s angriest wolf trying to impress a bunny.”

Denki whispered, “What if he proposes? Right now. What if he just pulls out a rock and drops it in Izuku’s lap?”

Ochako bit her knuckle. “I’d like to see that.”

Izuku, still confused, gently wiped a smear of blood from Bakugo’s cheek with a clean bit of cloth. “You’re lucky none of this got infected,” he murmured, all soft concern.

Bakugo’s ears turned red. Like, glowing coal red.

He was going to die. Right here. From too much adorable.

Kirishima placed a hand over his heart. “I think this is it, guys. This is how we lose him.”

Izuku got up and dusted himself. “Maybe you’re just… stressed?”

Bakugo nodded stiffly, making Izuku smile kindly at him.

“Well, just rest, okay? You’re safe here.”

Safe.

The word hit Bakugo harder than any blow he had ever taken in battle.

He growled low in his throat, a promise vibrating under his skin.

He’ll make sure this omega is safe forever.

He’ll make sure his omega is safe forever.

Chapter Text

Izuku helped Bakugo get back on his feet and onto one of the beds—one of the ones that hadn’t been destroyed—to rest. He smiled and looked over to the group still standing near the entrance, wary.

“Thank you, Midoriya,” Momo said gently as she got close to him. “We didn’t know how to get him to calm down.” She smiled.

“I just did what I had to, nothing special,” he said sheepishly.

He looked over to the other four barbarians and examined them from head to toe, causing them stiffen. He placed a hand on his hip and rubbed his chin. “Oh my, how rude of me… I haven’t properly introduced myself to you, have I?” he smiled, embarrassed.

“My name is Izuku Midoriya. Herbalist and healer, amongst other things,” he giggled, soft and kind. The four barbarians blinked. Then blinked again. This was… it was a completely different person from the one they had met earlier.

“Oh uh… I’m Kirishima Eijiro,” Kirishima interrupted the silence. “These are Sero Hanta, Mina Ashido, Denki Kaminar,” he continued, pointing at each of them. “And that’s Katsuki Bakugo, leader of the group and future leader of our tribe. We appreciate you helping our leader.”

He bowed, the other following suit.

Izuku shook his hands and smiled, “Oh, no need for such formalities. I did what any other would have done.”

Well, agree to disagree.

He looked closer at them, “Hmm, you four seem to be hurt as well…”

Momo took a look at them and nodded, “You’re right. I hadn’t taken notice of that due to everything going on. My apologies.”

Mina shook her head, “Oh, no. Don’t worry about that. Bakugo is a lot more hurt than we are, he is the priority.” She said, the other three nodding behind her.

“Nonsense,” Izuku added. “You four fought bravely and deserve to receive proper care." He scolded, hands on his hips. His expression stern but caring.

Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and Denki looked over at Bakugo, who only glared at them and signed for them to obey. They nodded and followed Izuku and Momo towards some of the beds that had been rearranged by the other people still in the hut.   

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

From his place on the woven bed, Bakugo seethed.

His jaw flexed like it might snap.

His entire body was coiled, every instinct screaming to get up and shove between Izuku and the others.

Because watching Izuku—his omega—fuss over them?

Gently cupping Kaminari’s chin to check a bruise.

Brushing Sero’s hair back to clean a gash on his temple.

It made something wild and feral twist deep in Bakugo’s gut.

Mine.

Mine.

MINE.

He sucked in a breath through his nose and forced his alpha back down.

Because he was their leader.

Because they were injured too.

Because he was trying so hard not to be that kind of alpha.

But then Izuku giggled at something Denki said—one of those cute, bright little sounds that made Bakugo’s pulse jackknife—and all bets were off.

A low, guttural growl started deep in his chest.

Kirishima punched his arm from the bed beside his. “Bro, chill…”  he glanced over to see if anyone was watching before turning back to Katsuki. “You’re gonna trigger a dominance match inside a healer shack.”

Bakugo huffed but calmed himself down, shoving his alpha down once again. He didn’t want to seem like a primitive, violent alpha in front of his intended omega.

He decided that it would be best not to pay attention to what the omega was doing. He’ll wait until he can have Izuku close to him once again. He knew that his packmates would not try to court the omega. Especially not Denki, who was also an omega. Not Kirishima or Mina, who were mated. And not Sero, the beta was too preoccupied ogling the alpha with the framed crystals. But his alpha was restless while watching the first omega he had ever been interested in tend to others.

Still, he kept his composure. It was just a matter of time.

He would heal, and then he would court the hell out of the omega.

Mark his words.

That omega.

Izuku.

Would be his.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

By the time Izuku and Momo finish. The barbarians were cleaned and patched up.

“There,” Izuku beamed, “you should be good to go in a couple of days.”

“Thanks,” Sero smiled back at him. “And sorry for… ya know, intruding into your territory,” Denki added, scratching the back of his head.

Izuku shook his head, “No, it’s fine. I am sorry for scaring you like that. However, that was necessary as we weren’t sure if you were a threat or not.” He smiled.

“Ya' don’t need to apologize for that,” Bakugo huffed, speaking for the first time since he had come down from his feral state. “Ya were just looking out for your people. We are strangers, and you still chose to help us when you didn’t have to. We are indebted to you and your people.”

The rest of the savages blinked, shocked at this. Even more so at seeing the other members of the barbarian clan smile and nod at their leader’s words.

Izuku kept his stare locked on Bakugo’s. it wasn’t very often that people treated them—the savages—with any respect. Usually, they didn’t even have time to present themselves as people just attacked or ran away as soon as they saw them.

That’s why they had opted not to offer their help to people who didn’t deserve it. They want to be scared? Then fine, be scared.

However, that didn’t mean that they would just let someone die in front of their eyes. At least not Izuku. That’s just not who he was at all.

That’s why he didn’t even think twice before leaping down from that tree to help the fallen alpha, didn’t think twice before bringing him back to the camp, and pleaded with the council so that they would let him heal the alpha.

That’s who Izuku was.

He was kind.

He was brave.

He was compassionate.

He was fierce.

He would do anything to protect his village and the people residing in it.

But he would never turn his back on someone who needed help.

He smiled and bowed his head at the prince of the barbarian clan, “It was my pleasure.”

Ochako and Iida smiled and nodded. Momo giggled before she remembered something. She looked over at Izuku and asked, “By the way, Izuku,” she addressed, making the green-haired omega look at her. “I know you asked the council about helping Bakugo-san, but did you tell them about the other visitors as well?”

Izuku’s smile faltered at this, he stared dumbly at his feet, “…oh.”

He exited the shack quickly, running to who knows where.

The five barbarians blinked at this, confused. Ochako chuckled and shook her head, “Hopefully he doesn’t get in trouble for this.”

Denki looked over at her, nervous. “You think he will get in trouble for bringing us over here?” the other three looked nervous as well. They didn’t want the kind dude to get in trouble because of them.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Iida replied. “He might get scolded, if that. Izuku’s very… favored by the head chief.” He said, Momo and Ochako chuckled at this.

The five barbarians were even more confused, but that calmed their nerves a bit.

At least Izuku would not be in trouble for helping them.

They will have to ask about what Iida meant by ‘favored’ later.

Chapter Text

The door to the mender’s shack cracked as Izuku pushed it open, slipping back inside with quick steps.

Inside, Kirishima was sitting cross-legged by the fire pit, Mina sitting behind him, braiding his hair. Denki lay flat on his back, arms spread dramatically as if he had just fought a divine being. Sero sat beside Mina, watching closely as she worked on Kirishima’s hair. Bakugo, however, was perched against the far wall, brooding like some wounded beast, eyes fixed on the entrance like he had felt Izuku coming.

He probably had.

All five of them—the other four having turned when they noticed the omega had entered—watched the omega, still nervous despite the reassurance from earlier about how the omega wouldn’t get in trouble because of them. Nervousness still latched onto them.

Izuku blinked at them, surprised at the attention, before smiling at them. “I already talked to our council,” the five barbarians held their breath. “They said you can stay to heal,”.

“Really?” Sero asked. Izuku nodded, “Yes,” He responded, “You’ll be offered food, fresh clothing, and a proper place to rest.” Izuku looked at them as he spoke. “But they will probably want you to contribute while you’re here.”

“They will want us to work…?” Mina blinked before she groaned. “While injured?"

“You’re not dying,” Momo chuckled, entering the shack with a pile of fabrics. “And frankly, we don’t need five bored barbarians with nothing to do. Sounds like a fire waiting to happen, if you ask me,” Ochako added, leaving some bowls with water on the table. Iida entering behind her, carrying some food.

Bakugo’s lip curled, just a little. “Tch. You’re not wrong.”

“Tell ‘em thanks,” he muttered. Then, quieter, “For trusting us.”

Izuku blinked.

And smiled.

“Tell them yourself, when you meet them.”

“MEET THEM!?” The voices of the five barbarians, varying in their tones, echoed through the shack.

“But of course, it would be expected that you have to meet our council at some point,” Iida nodded.

Denki rubbed his chin before adding, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense…”

“Besides,” at Izuku’s voice, they all turned to him. “They soon will ask you about your encounter with the Nomus.”

Sero blinked, “Nomus?”

Izuku nodded, “The beasts that attacked you, that is what we call them.” He said, solemnly.

The group of barbarians fell silent. Their minds going back to those things. Strong, untamed beasts. The ones that almost killed Katsuki.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

Later that night.

The earlier tension and curiosity from earlier had slightly faded, replaced by a sense of exhaustion that clung to their skin.

Bakugo sat against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, but he was clearly still awake. Around him, the rest of his group rested. Kirishima was cradling his bandaged arm, Denki with his swollen jaw, and Mina and Sero sat whispering between themselves.

Across the room, Izuku knelt beside some low shelves, sorting bundles of dried herbs into labeled baskets. Nearby, Momo and Iida were discussing rations and medical stuff in hushed tones. Ochako knelt at the hearth, trying to make the fire burn brighter.

For a while, the two groups simply existed, shared a space.

Then Denki broke the silence.

“Those things,” he started, “the ones that attacked us yesterday, they weren’t just wild beasts, were they?”

The air in the room shifted.

Kirishima’s shoulders tensed. Mina and Sero stopped whispering and sat straighter.

Bakugo opened an eye, gaze locked on the other side of the room.

Izuku froze mid-motion, fingers holding a bundle of thyme.

“No, they weren’t,” he said, voice quiet yet steady.

“You called them… Nomu,” Kirishima said slowly, testing the unfamiliar word on his tongue.

Iida adjusted his frames, stepping forward. “That is what our council has named them, yes. A name designated to creatures created through…” he paused. “…unnatural means.”

“We’ve seen them before,” Mina added, her voice unexpectedly firm. “Two attacked our village not too long ago. But the ones that attacked us back in our village were nothing like the ones we saw yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Sero muttered. “The ones that attacked us, they were fast. Organized. It was like they knew what they were doing.”

“That’s because they did,” Ochako murmured, crossing her arms.

A beat of silence.

“What do ya’ mean?” Bakugo’s voice was heard, he had stood up and walked towards the savages. The others followed after him.

“When we first faced them,” Izuku began explaining, “they were easy to read and take down. They were reckless, they would tear through anything that was in their way without thinking.”

He grabbed a carving tool and crouched down, the others following by instinct. He began drawing in the packed dirt of the hut.

“They didn’t stay that way. Over time, we started noticing changes. Some began to move differently, they started working together and stopped attacking carelessly. They adapted.” Izuku murmured loud enough for all of them to listen.

He carved three circles in the earth and tapped the smallest circle.

“Level 1 Nomus, brutes. They are slow, clumsy, and driven by raw instinct. They are the easiest to take down, their weak point is their exposed brain.”

His finger moved to the middle circle.

“Hunters. Quicker. Smarter. They travel in packs, communicate without words, and coordinate attacks like wolves. They’ll stalk you for days before making a move. Their weak point is hidden under their arms, pretty much their armpit.”

He then pointed to the last circle.

“Commanders.”

The word rang like a bell in the silence.

“They’re rare. But when they show up…” his voice dropped, “everything changes. They lead the others. They set traps, retreat when needed, and strike when they see you at your weakest. Sometimes, they can talk.”

Shivers ran through the room.

“You mean to say that some of those things actually think?” Denki asked, sitting up straighter.

“They calculate,” Momo corrected grimly.

“They adapt,” Izuku added, glancing up.

No one spoke

The fire cracked. Outside, a distant owl hooted.

“…how do you fight something like that?” Kirishima asked finally.

Izuku looked across the room, glaze meeting Bakugo’s. “You adapt faster.”

Momo stepped forward, her face composed but her fingers curled tightly at her sides.

“The Nomu are evolving,” she said. “And they are doing so faster than we ever predicted. We have noticed that, after each encounter, they come back stronger, more coordinated.”

Iida’s voice was firm as he added, “They are not natural beasts. They’re constructed. Designed by someone who is most definitely still perfecting them.”

That landed hard.

Sero’s expression drained of color. “Wait, you mean someone is… making them?”

Izuku nodded grimly. “We believe so. We don’t know who is doing them or where they are doing them. But we know that each attack is helping them gather information in order to make them better.”

“The commanders are the biggest threat,” Ochako spoke up. “We’ve only had one encounter with a commander, but that encounter left us with even less people than we already had.” She sighed, this whole thing clearly weighing her down.

Izuku stood up and dusted himself, “That’s enough of that,” he smiled, looking at the five barbarians as they too rose from the ground. “You all have had some rough days, we have a shack you five can stay in and rest.”

He turned to Iida to address him, “Do you mind escorting them there, Iida? I still have some things to do here.”

Iida nodded, “I have no problem with that.”

Izuku clapped his hands together and looked once again at the barbarians, “Perfect then. Iida will be taking you there, please rest.” He said as he motioned them to the door. “Tomorrow you will be meeting the chief, perhaps even the council as a whole. So, get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

He motioned toward the door.  

The five hesitated for a second, but they were really tired, so sleep sounded like a blessing right about now. One by one, they followed Iida out to the cool night air, the door creaking shut behind them.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“You’re up,” Izuku called out, his voice carrying a little too clearly over the morning hum of village life. “Good. The chief is ready to meet you.”

He was already waiting for them outside, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he leaned against a boulder. His posture today was straighter, his tone less casual, but not hostile like when they had met. He was also wearing his mask again, the intricately carved mask shaped like the face of a dragon.  

Bakugo led the group forward, jaw tight, though the usual edge in his glare dulled slightly whenever he glanced at Izuku. The others followed behind him. As they walked, following the green-haired omega, their eyes flickered between the unfamiliar people and the organized chaos of the village around them.

It seemed as though the people from this village were early risers. The elders and adults were already working.

Children darted between gardens. Villagers spoke in hushed tones as they worked. Repairing tools, harvesting herbs, and weaving baskets. The smells of spices and morning bread hung in the air. It was nothing like the harsh, lawless camps they would often imagine.

They stopped in front of a large wooden structure that sat slightly elevated, its entrance framed by carved archways that told silent stories—battles, unity, ruin, and rebuilding. The scent of aged wood and smoldering herbs lingered in the air.

“This way,” Izuku said, pushing aside a curtain of leather and beads.

They followed, bowing as they entered.

The inside was quieter than expected. Cool and dimly lit, with soft light trickling through narrow slits high along the wall. At the center was a circular fire pit, glowing faintly, surrounded by low stone seating.

And waiting for them, was the council. Masked and standing tall, still, silent.

A chill swept over the barbarians. The five people standing around the pit looked intimidating.

Then Izuku stepped forward, into the ring of light, standing among them.

An older, taller man stepped forward. The chief, they assume.

He was tall but thinner than expected. His body was worn. Shoulders slightly stooped, bones sharp beneath the thick fur-lined robe he wore. His hair mimicked that of a lion’s mane, even more considering the mask that covered his face, carved in the shape of a lion. A leader.

Katsuki had come to stand before countless leaders in his life. Warlords with blood on their hands, kings crowned by fear or by trust. All of them fierce, all of them powerful. But never once had he bowed. Never once had he caved. He would meet their eyes with defiance, shoulders squared, chin held up. That’s who he was.

But right now, standing here before this man cloaked in mystery and silence. Something shifted.

The chief.

There was no bluster in his stance, no weapons drawn or titles shouted. And yet, the weight of him—his presence, the history written in his scars, his gaze behind that cracked, carved lion mask—struck Katsuki harder than any blade ever had. It wasn’t fear. It was something else.

It was respect.

A fire ignited in his chest, sudden and unfamiliar. Like a call to attention. Like instinct, reaching out and dragging him to stillness. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white, not out of anger… but restraint. His body, his alpha, screamed at him. To kneel, to bow his head, to offer a barbarian warrior’s respect to a man he didn’t even know.

That feeling infuriated him.

He didn’t know this man. He had no reason to feel like this.

And yet… he did.

This wasn’t some feeble show of power or staged authority. This man’s mere presence demanded respect. Demanded trust and loyalty. Katsuki didn’t know this man, but he knew that this was the kind of man that bled for his people. The kind of leader who had endured and still stood.

Katsuki swallowed hard, stilling under the calm gaze of the alpha chief before him.

For the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to feel inferior.

And, to his own surprise, it didn’t bother him.

“I am Toshinori Yagi,” the man said, his voice deep and calm, carrying easily through the chamber. “Chief of this village. It is by my authority that you were allowed to stay. And by my invitation you stand before us now.”

He paused, letting his words settle in.

“We are the council. The voices that guard our people. Allow me to introduce those who stand with me.”

He gestured to the side, where a shorter figure sat straight-backed, his mask carved to the shape of a snarling wolf with one of its ears chipped.

“This is Gran Torino, our veteran warrior. Blunt as he is wise.”

Gran Torino gave no nod, only stared, unmoving. His presence cut through the air like a blade.  

“To his side,” Toshinori continued, “Is David Shield. Our inventor and builder.” The man’s fox-faced mask tilted slightly, carved with a sharp grin. The cleverness in his eyes was palpable, even behind the wood.

“Mirai Sasaki, Sir Nighteye,” Toshinori said next, indicating the owl-like man with narrow, piercing eyes. “Strategist. Seer. He looks further ahead than most of us dare.”

Sir Nighteye said nothing. He needed no words.

Then Toshinori turned slightly, his voice shifted. Softer, but no less certain.

“Inko Midoriya. Our high healer. The voice of compassion and reason,” he took her hand, his gaze soft. “My beautiful mate.”

The doe mask woman bowed her head gently. Her mask was carved with soft curves and blooming vines. The aura of calm radiated from her like mist.

Then, Toshinori’s gaze landed on the next figure. The dragon-faced masked figure that watched from the shadows. Narrow, almost glowing, green eyes.

“And finally,” Toshinori’s voice lowered, but the pride laced through it was unmistakable.

“This is Izuku Midoriya. Warrior. Healer in training. And my adored son.”

Five pairs of eyes widened.

The barbarians stared, stunned. Bakugo most of all.

The boy who had guided them here. The omega with the green eyes that burned like fire, whose voice had carried both softness and steel. The kind soul who had advocated and pleaded for them to be let inside and treated on their grounds. He was part of them?

Part of the council?

THE CHIEF’S SON?!

Izuku gave a short, respectful nod, hands together behind his back. But his eyes flickered toward the group—toward Bakugo—beneath the mask. Measuring their reaction.

Toshinori stepped back into the center of the circle.

“Now that we are no longer strangers,” he said, “We can speak freely.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Katsuki’s breath caught.

The dragon-masked warrior.

The one who moved like a ghost. Who pleaded for them, a bunch of strangers, to be let into their sacred land and healed with their resources.

The boy who slipped into his thoughts at night like smoke.

That omega, was the chief’s son.

Katsuki felt the weight of it settle over him, like iron chains and velvet ropes. Heavy, but not cruel. And it hit him all at once. The weight in his chest every time their eyes met. The burn in his lungs when Izuku got too close. The gnawing ache when he wasn’t near. The fire Toshinori lit in his instincts, to lower his gaze and submit, was just the echo.

Izuku was the source.

 The omega he’d chosen without ever understanding what it meant. The one whose scent still clung to him like a secret. The one whose voice—soft, rough, angry, kind—looped endlessly in his head like a prayer he hadn’t meant to say.

And he was the chief’s heir.

The dragon.

The one destined to lead his tribe in the future.

The one Katsuki had already vowed to protect with his life after knowing him for roughly two days.

That realization wrecked him. It made the omega’s initial stance make sense.

And graceful heavens, his omega was just perfect.

Fuck.

He was just so perfect.

Like a blade sheathed in velvet.

Katsuki didn’t just want to shield him.

He wanted to stand with him in every battle.

To kneel at his feet, not from submission, but from devotion.

To bleed for him.

To be worthy, not just as a warrior, but as the one the omega chose in return.

And if the gods hadn’t already written it into the stars, then Katsuki would carve it into the sky himself.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Toshinori—the lion—spoke again. His voice steady.

“You have now been welcomed into our sacred ground,” he said, “You have seen what most are not permitted to see.” A step forward. “You have seen my kindred fight, and have also been tended by them,” Toshinori added.

“Now tell me,” he said, chest puffed and posture straight. “Why should we trust you and let you extend your stay here?”

The silence cracked like a whip.

Katsuki could feel it. His companion’s hesitation behind him. Denki shifted, uncomfortable with the savages’ scrutiny. Kirishima opened his mouth just to close it immediately, Mina clinging onto him. And Sero just looked at his leader, waiting for him to talk, to lead them.

And Katsuki did. He stepped forward. He met the chief’s burning blue gaze head-on.

“We didn’t come here to steal from your grounds, nor to make you or your people uncomfortable with our presence,” Katsuki said, voice hoarse but solid. “We weren’t even sure if your people were real or just a legend up until we were rescued by your people.”

Toshinori’s eyes narrowed.

“We landed in your lands by pure coincidence, and your warriors,” his eyes shifted to Izuku momentarily. “Your son, found us by the same coincidence and decided to aid us. And for that, we are thankful.”

Bakugo kneeled, head bowed. His companions following his lead, as they always do without even thinking twice.

“We may not wear masks, as your warriors do,” Katsuki went on. “And we don’t intend on staying where we are not welcome.”

He raised his head, meeting Toshinori’s eyes.

“But I plead you,” he swallowed. “To let us stay some more time, to allow us to heal before we have to leave. And to let us fight along with you if it were necessary.” His gaze hardened. “We are also warriors. Please use our blades, our hands, until the day you send us away.”

There was a pause, then a low rumble. A chuckle, dark and rich, and coming from the chief.

“You speak with fire, young one,” Toshinori said, stepping closer to the kneeling barbarians. One massive hand landed on Katsuki’s shoulder. Like a boulder dropped into place.

“That is good. Fire can protect.”

He leaned in, just enough for the words to rumble like distant thunder.

“But fire, when left unattended, can consume.”

Katsuki didn’t flinch, but he felt it. The warning, the wisdom. And the weight of being seen.

Then Toshinori stepped back. He turned toward the rest of his pack.

“And you, his pack,” he said. “Will you follow your leader?”

The responses came in an instant.

Kirishima slammed his fist to his chest, eyes burning with conviction. Mina regarded him with a lazy grin but steel in her spine. Sero gave a firm nod, not a trace of fear. Denki hesitated for half a heartbeat, then threw two thumbs up with a smile.

They knew they could trust him. They could, and would always, trust their leader.

Toshinori observed them like a mountain might observe a storm. Calm, ancient, unmoved by bravado but listening all the same.

“You will rest. You will heal. And you will be given a place within our lands, for now.”

His tone sharpened. The lion bared his teeth.

“But we don't do charity. You will work. You will hunt, build, clean, and train. Whatever is asked of you, you will give.” He looked at all of them, “You will prove you are to be trusted to stay here.”

His gaze lingered on Katsuki for a beat longer.

Not cruel, but deliberate.

“And you, boy,” he paused, “We shall see if your spark is more than just that.”

The five barbarians dipped their heads.

Not in submission.

In understanding.

Izuku stepped forward. Took off his mask and addressed them with a smile.

“I will take you back to our mender shack to quickly check your wounds,” he said, looking at all of them as they rose from the ground. “Tomorrow you will begin your duties, so please rest plenty today.” He turned his back to them to address the council with a firm, respectful bow, one that was reciprocated.

He rose and marched toward the entrance of the place, the barbarians following behind him instinctively, bowing before they followed the omega.

The six of them walked in silence, the weight of everything settling into their bones.

Tomorrow, they will have to prove themselves to be useful.

But for Katsuki, it was more than that.

Tomorrow, Katsuki would prove himself to him.

The green-eyed omega who moved in silence, like the wind.

Katsuki’s jaw tightened.

He would thrive. He would earn every glance, word, and heartbeat.

Let the tribe watch. Let the gods bear witness. He would show Izuku that this wild, tough-edged alpha was worthy of him. Not just to fight beside him. But to stand with him. To kneel at his feet. To belong to him.

And by all that was sacred…

Katsuki Bakugo would not fail.

Chapter Text

The next day.

The village stirred to life as golden light spilled over the trees, kissing the dirt paths and wood-carved homes. Smoke from early fires curled into the sky. Children’s laughter echoed like birdcalls, and somewhere, a smith’s hammer rang steady and proud.

The barbarians stood at the center of the town, freshly cleaned and bandages changed from the prior day. Their eyes scanned the tribe’s people, warriors and healers, hunters, and craftsmen. All eyes turned to them in return.

Then came Toshinori Yagi.

He was not wearing his mask today, which allowed the five barbarians to fully take in his features for the first time.

His golden hair was as untamed as the day before. The sun caught the lines of his weathered face, marked by battle. His presence towered even without the ceremonial clothing from the day before.

When he spoke up, it was not with thunder, but with stillness that commanded everyone to be silent and hear his words.

“My dear people, these outsiders now stand here with us by my own personal decision,” he declared, his voice a low rumble that carried like drums through the mist.

“They have shed blood upon our soil. They have encountered the beasts that prowl our dark edges. And they ask to remain, not as intruders, but as hands ready to aid, and blades willing to bleed, were it necessary.”

Then he spread his arms wide, eyes sweeping over his people.

“If any of you seek aid, speak up.”

There was a pause.

Then movement.

An older woman stepped forward, her spine bent like a weathered branch, a carved staff clutched in one gnarled hand. Her eyes were sharp despite her years.

“My son’s leg has yet to heal since the last moon,” she said. “Our roof leaks and I am too old to climb the beams on my own.”

Her eyes swept over the group, then shifted her hand and pointed with a light shake.

“You. The redhead with shoulders like oxen. You’ll do.”

Kirishima blinked, then thumped a fist to his chest with a grin. “Yes, ma’am!” he boomed, already stepping forward, following the elder woman and nearly wagging his tail like a loyal dog.

A younger hunter followed next, lean and sharp-eyed, with the stiffness of fresh grief in his posture.

“We lost three of our people in the last storm,” he said quietly. “Need new hands for the traps before dusk falls again.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

“I’m taking the long-limbed one. Looks clever enough, you’ll keep up, I hope.”

Sero straightened, lips parting in surprise, then split into a crooked grin. “Traps? Psh, you’ll be amazed once you see my sticky traps in action.”

A healer draped in beads and dried leaves lifted her head from the crowd.

“Our mortar stones are cracked,” she said. “We grind roots by hand, but the wounded grow restless.” Her hand swept vaguely, then landed on Mina. “You, the beautiful pink-skinned lady. You have strong arms, come with me.”

Mina blinked, wide-eyed and face flushed from the random compliment. She smiled, so bright it could’ve healed someone on the spot, “You got it! I’ll crush those roots till they beg for mercy!”

A soft voice then rose from the crowd, kind and amused.

“I need help in the nursery.”

Heads turned.

A man stood with a sleepy pup on his hip, her tiny hand clutching to his braid. Behind him, a small cluster of little ones peeked out, their cheeks sticky with fruit and eyes wide with curiosity.

“They’re restless,” he said with a smile. “They miss laughter and stories. If any of you carry tales with you, please do come with me.”

A giggle bubbled from the pups as one tugged at his sleeve and whispered into his ear. The man nodded solemnly, then lifted his chin and looked back at them.

“You, the boy with the electric personality. You look like mischief walks with you. You think you could entertain the little ones?”

Denki blinked surprised. “Me?”

He looked behind him, half-expecting someone else to step forward, then his expression melted into a crooked grin.

“I mean, yeah! Sure! I’ve got plenty stories. Leave it to me.” He smiled, holding two thumbs up.

The pups cheered as if he’d just promised a magic show.

A final voice spoke, low and steady.

“I need help carrying wood from the southern ridge.”

Katsuki straightened instinctively, breath poised to offer himself as tribute. Only for hands, calloused but soft, to wrap around his arm from behind him.

He stiffened, surprised by the sudden contact.

Izuku stepped up beside him, close enough that his scent washed over Katsuki like smoke and pine. His grip firm, grounding. And when Katsuki glanced down, he found green eyes already watching him.

“I have already staked my claim on you, you hot-headed alpha,” Izuku stated, smile calm and soothing. “You have very strong arms. Thought you’d be the best for hauling wood.”

A simple thing, but to Katsuki it was like the gods had spoken to him themselves.

His chest swelled in pride. His omega had chosen him.

Fuck, is he trying to murder him with cuteness?

His mouth worked around the heat in his chest before he finally managed to speak, “I’ll get you the best pieces of wood. Even if I have to rip them from the ridge with my teeth.” He stated making Izuku giggle from how serious the alpha sounded.

Toshinori raised his voice then.

“Then it’s decided. Go well, all of you.”

With that, the village broke into motion. One by one, warriors and villagers began to head towards their designated tasks.

Katsuki watched his companions scurry away to their duties. A familiar voice brought him out of his trance.

“Come on,” Izuku said, already a few steps ahead, glancing back over his shoulder. “The ridge isn’t coming to us, ya know?”

Katsuki blinked, then moved. Falling into step beside the omega as they headed toward the tree-shadowed edge of the southern ridge.

They walked in relative silence at first. Birds sang in the trees. The ground was still soft from the recent rains. Izuku’s cloak shifted around his ankles like wind-drawn grass, his pace easy but purposeful. Katsuki let himself fall into the rhythm of it.

Izuku broke the silence by speaking up, not quite looking at him. “We should talk.”

Katsuki eyed the omega, tilting his head.

“I mean,” Izuku continued, his hands pushing away leaves as they walked. “We are going to be working together these next days, it makes sense to get to know who I’m gonna be working with.”

Katsuki snorted softly. “I guess. You gonna interview me while we’re chopping wood?”

Izuku grinned, giving him a sideways glance. “Something like that. I’m just really curious about your people. And I figured you are probably curious about our tribe as well.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong there,” Katsuki responded. “Specially considering that everything we knew, or that we thought we knew, about your people was clearly wrong.”

They reached the edge of the ridge, where fallen trees and thick undergrowth tangled like sleeping beasts. Katsuki adjusted his grip on the axe Izuku had given him before leaving. Izuku crouched near a fallen log, fingers brushing the bark as if to test its dryness.

“Hmm,” Izuku hummed, eyes still on the wood, “what sort of stories have you heard about us?”

Katsuki huffed. “Where do I even start?”

He kicked a rock near his boot, “That you ate your wounded since they served no more purpose. That you cursed the wind causing it to rain blood on your lands. That your warriors bathed in said blood rain. That no outsider who crossed your border came back whole, if they came back at all.”

Izuku blinked, looking at him, baffled. “Blood rain? Really?”

“Yeah, it sounds stupid now that I said it out loud.” Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck as the omega laughed. “But when you grow up hearing those stories, it kinda sticks. When we are kids, they are meant to scare us from going beyond our borders, but they never stop as we grow up.”

“Well, I can assure you we don’t eat our wounded, we care for them,” Izuku said as he reached for a tool in his satchel. “And this is the first time I’ve heard about a blood rain.” He laughed.

Katsuki snorted, “Figured. We were even told you had no tongue.”

Izuku looked even more confused now, “Excuse me?”

The blonde gave a half-shrug. “Not literally. Just that you couldn’t speak a real language. Only guttural sounds and random noises. That the savages were too far gone to understand ‘civil talk’. Some even think you were born without the words to speak.” He finished, looking back at the omega to make sure he hadn’t offended him.

But Izuku just laughed, loud and full of disbelief. “That’s just ridiculous.” He said, looking at the alpha with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. Clearly a lot, if not all, of what we heard was bull. Unless,” he looked at Izuku with a playful grin and a raised eyebrow. “Can you vanish into the trees?”

Izuku snorted, “No, but I can climb them really fast, does that work for you?”

Bakugo snorted, genuinely amused.

“We do have some words that are our own,” he admitted. “But they’re sacred. Specific. Things we don’t speak lightly of, or things your language doesn’t have words for.”

“Like what?”

Izuku hesitated, then tilted his head, gaze drifting to the wind-stirred trees. “There’s this word we don’t use often. It’s something spoken between mates, mostly.”

Bakugo raised a brow at this, quite intrigued. “Can I ask what it is?”

Izuku took a breath. “Tahl’vayn”

He looked back at Katsuki, voice a soft whisper.

“It means something like, ‘If my life ends now, I would choose you again in the next one’.” His eyes locked with Katsuki’s. “It’s spoken in moments where you are not sure if you’re going to live to see the next rise of the sun.”

Bakugo was silent. Izuku didn’t expect him to respond. He just let it sit there between them, like a thread strung between hearts. “We don’t say it often, and never without meaning it.”

Katsuki’s gaze lowered. Then Izuku clapped his hands, making the blonde jolt. “Anyway. I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you since our first encounter.”

“Yeah?” Bakugo finally asked, his voice rougher than before.

“Let’s get through this pile first,” Izuku said with a grin. He stepped forward, grabbing a thick branch and inspecting it for rot before beginning to strip the bark with practiced ease. “I hope you are able to multitask.”

Katsuki grunted in amusement but followed nonetheless, yanking a fallen trunk closer and cracking it open with a sharp strike of his axe.

Izuku glanced sideways after a while of the same. “I noticed the other day, you have magic. The explosions from your hands.” He paused, letting the question hang for a moment. “I know not much about your people, but I thought barbarians didn’t have magic. I know Mina and Kirishima have magic because they are dragon-shifters.” He looked over at the blonde. “Are you a dragon-shifter too?”

Bakugo barked a laugh. “Hell no. Can you imagine me growing wings and a tail? I don’t think so.”

Izuku chuckled. “So? What’s the explanation?”

Bakugo leaned on his knee, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He extended his arms palm up and let a few sparks flicker. “In our tribe, dragons and humans live together. We are pretty much raised together.”

He picked another log to keep splitting them. “Some of us, not many, get blessed by the dragons. We call it the Embermark, a gift from the dragons. Magic, pretty much.”

Izuku looked thoughtful. “So, you were blessed by the dragons?”

Bakugo nodded, “But I think it was because of Eijiro.”

“The redhead?”

“Yeah, we were raised together. Grew up collecting sticks to yield like swords and stealing bread to piss of my ma’.” Bakugo grinned as he recounted his young days, before his grin turned grim. “But there was this one day…”

“Our mothers would warn us not to go beyond our border, that there were things that would tear us to pieces if we did so. We were young and dumb, some scrawny twelve-year-olds, and we thought that, if the elder warriors were able to go beyond the border to hunt, we could too because we were going to be like them when we grew up.” He said, making Izuku smile imagining both of them.

“We ended up near a ravine where the oldest dragon slept. It's sacred ground, untouched even by the rest of the dragon tribe. But we were cocky little shits. We didn’t even notice the rock markings telling people not to trespass until the ground started shaking.”

Bakugo’s mouth twisted into something between a grin and a grimace. “Kur. That’s the name of the oldest dragon. An ancient beast whose sole name makes the rest of the dragons bow their heads and who possesses an infinity of magical power. And he was not happy that we were there. He didn’t even care if Eijiro was one of his kind, he was out for blood.”

He swallowed hard. “I was frozen in place. I hate admitting it, but I was. But Eijiro wasn’t. He stood between me and Kur, shifted even though he hadn’t mastered using his magic to harden his scales yet. He almost killed him. Would’ve had, if I hadn’t moved.”

Izuku’s eyes widen, the bundle of wood forgotten in his arms.

“I didn’t think, my body moved on its own seeing my best friend on the verge of death by his own kind.” He tightened his fists, “I just grabbed a branch, lit it with the same fire Kur was throwing at us, and ran straight at him. I screamed so loud I thought my lungs would split. But I finally managed to catch his attention and turn him away from Eijiro.”

He paused, voice quieter now.

“He fired at me, opened his mouth, and breathed fire on my way. I thought I was done for, I thought that was how I was gonna die, burned to death,” he sighed, then looked straight up at Izuku. “But the fire didn’t burn me. It wrapped around my arms. I felt the urge to put my arms in front of me, as if that was gonna stop the beast making its way to me, so I did. The moment Kur got close enough for contact, my palms sparked against his skin and ignited into an explosion making him turn away from us allowing us to escape. Eijiro said later that my whole body glowed at that moment.”

Izuku whispered, “That’s when they blessed you.”

Bakugo nodded, “They said the dragons marked me for courage. For protecting their kin. I didn’t understand it then. I just knew that Eijiro was alive and that I could make things go boom with my hands.” He smirked faintly, “Sounded like a good trade.”

Izuku smiled softly, something warm flickering behind his eyes. “So, you are quite literally fire-forged.”

Bakugo looked over at him, amusement in his eyes. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Izuku let the silence linger for a moment, then knelt to secure another bundle. “That’s a nice story.”

Bakugo huffed, “It’s a true story.”

“I like those best,” Izuku murmured with a smile making Katsuki smile in return. Then, after a beat, they both went back to their original task.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Eventually, the pile of firewood at their feet stood as tall as Izuku’s hip, bound tightly with vines and stripped cloth. The sun had begun to descend, casting long shadows over the forest, the light golden and soft through the canopy.

“I think this is enough,” Izuku said, brushing his forearm across his forehead. His curls were damp, his cheeks flushed. “Any more and we’ll be rolling it back instead of carrying it.”

“Tch. Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Katsuki said, his alpha trying to impress the omega once again, hefting his bundle with ease.

They started walking side by side, the weight solid but manageable. The path back to the camp was quieter than before, the air cooler as the heat of the day softened.

After a beat of silence, Katsuki glanced over, brows drawn together. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Izuku turned his head. “Sure.”

“Your surname. It’s Midoriya, right? But your father’s Toshinori?”

A flicker of something passed over Izuku’s face—surprise, then understanding. “Ah… that.”

Katsuki didn’t backpedal, but he did add, “You don’t have to answer if it’s—”

“No, it’s fine,” Izuku said gently. “It’s not a secret really.”

He adjusted the wood on his shoulder, eyes scanning the trail ahead. “Toshinori isn’t my blood sire. My mother, Inko, raised me on her own for a few winters. My birth father,” he paused, tilting his head, looking for the correct word to use. “He’s not around anymore. He was a traveler, a stranger my mom fell in love with. He left before I could walk.”

Katsuki stayed quiet, respectfully.

Izuku’s lips quirked slightly. “Toshinori came to our tribe when I was ten. He was wandering around our land. He was injured, starved, and trying not to die in the middle of our forest. My mother found him and brought him back to camp to heal him.”

“Oh, so it’s hereditary, huh?” He joked, a smirk gracing his lips.

Izuku laughed. “Yeah. She was the only one who didn’t see him as a threat. Most people thought he was cursed or mad.” 

“Was he?”

“Definitely mad,” Izuku said with a grin. “But he was also very kind. Strong in a way none of us understood. And he healed. Fought for us even when no one, but my mom, trusted him.”

“And then what? He just mated with your mom and got handed the chief title?” Katsuki asked, tone curious.

Izuku shrugged. “Pretty much. Though not in that order. Took him some time to win the tribe over. Even longer to win my ma’s heart.”

“She looked nice,” Katsuki said, to no one in particular. “But if she is your mother, I know she must be terrifying.”

“She is,” Izuku said proudly. “But my dad loves her in a way that quiets her storm. And she chose him.” He smiled, “He used to train me, so I like admired him a lot already.”

Katsuki nodded, he could understand the omega. Katsuki had never seen the man fight, but the way he carried himself—solid, calm, commanding—spoke volumes. That alone had been enough to earn Katsuki’s respect. 

“I kept my name,” Izuku added after a moment. “Out of respect for her, for the one who bore me and took care of me. He never asked me to change it. Said I didn’t need to carry his blood or name to be his son.”

Something in Katsuki’s expression softened, just slightly. “Huh.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of camp slowly rising in the distance.

“I like your tribe,” Katsuki said eventually, voice quiet and gruff.

Izuku smiled, “I’m glad.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

By the time Izuku and Katsuki reached the center of the village, the sun had dipped lower, casting a warm amber light over the settlement. Laughter echoed from the cooking fires, where they could see Mina animatedly recounting something to Kirishima, Denki, and Sero. Ochako and Momo were finishing repairs on a leather tent covering while Iida meticulously cleaned a blade nearby.

The moment the two boys got near, Kirishima lifted a hand, his grin wide. “Hey! You two took your time.”

Izuku just smiled and laid the bundle of wood carefully on the ground, Katsuki following after him. “We made sure to bring enough wood to last for a while.”

Katsuki was about to add something, maybe something along the lines of ‘mind your own damn business, shitty hair’, when a scream cleaved through the air.

Sharp. Raw. Clear.

“NOMU!”

The word struck the village like a lightning bolt.

All movement halted.

The five barbarians stood still.

The whole village moved like one.

Everyone, but the five barbarians, snapped into motion with brutal, practiced precision. Spears, bows, and curved blades were drawn from beneath furs and floorboards and handed around. Children were swept up into arms and rushed into burrows and tents reinforced for danger. Alarm horns, carved from bones of different beasts, wailed across the camp.

The peaceful gathering was gone in an instant.

And before the five barbarians’ eyes, the whole savage tribe transformed.

Gone were the soft-spoken villagers, and in their place stood an army of fierce warriors.

Katsuki’s eyes went instinctively towards Izuku. The green-haired omega’s posture had shifted completely. His shoulders squared, spine straight, calm replaced by something sharp and terrifying. Someone handed him a long, double-ended spear, its wicked blades gleaming under the warm light of the fading sun. Iida got near him and handed him his mask. The omega wasted no time, putting it on instantly. His face now covered by the wood-carved dragon mask.

Around them, more masks emerged. Wolves, bears, foxes, birds of prey, and many other creatures all around them. Animal visages snarling in polished wood and painted bone.

The air thickened with tension. The warmth of the gathering fire now felt like a scorching forest fire.

For that moment, the five barbarians saw the legends come to life.

They finally saw the faceless, deadly silent, blood-thirsty savages they would often hear about.

Warriors ready to kill.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“We have to help!” Kirishima blurted, stepping forward, hardened scales already appearing as he shifted. Bakugo right beside him already, ready to fight.

But strong arms stopped them.

Iida and Momo.

“You five must stay back,” Iida said, his gaze stern behind the cheetah mask. “You’re not fully recovered yet.”

“You guys cannot seriously expect us to sit back and watch?!” Mina said, voice tinged in disbelief. “We can help you guys!” Denki’s voice cracked as he hissed, Sero nodding behind him.

Momo shook her head, her face covered by a wooden mask in the shape of a panther. “That’s a hunter, we can deal with it. You five still need to rest.”

Ochako stood beside her, placing her deer mask on her face. “Izuku will be the one dealing with this one.” She said, her announcement made Katsuki still and try to make his way to the omega, Ochako was quick to stop him. “Relax yourself, our Izuku is no wimp. Now, stay back.” She finished, voice stern, and made her way to where the rest of the village was already united in formation. Iida and Momo follow after her, making sure that the five of them won’t follow them.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

In the middle of the camp stood a creature, big and grotesque. Its body was thick with muscle, cloaked in tangled feathers that twitched like they were alive. Its face resembled that of a bird, but not quite. The beak was long and jagged, its surface cracked like old bone, and where its eyes should’ve been, there was only smooth skin. The creature screeched and swung its arms with reckless fury, as if trying to fight something in front of it.

Izuku was already sprinting forward, spear in hand, his body fluid and precise. His green eyes, barely visible behind the mask, lit with fire.

The creature snarled, twisted flesh writhing like a storm beneath its feathers. A string of drool hung from the jagged fangs in its beak as it turned its malformed head, sniffing the air for prey.

Izuku circled it in silence. His steps were slow and calculated. A bigger predator poised not with arrogance, but with precision.

Around him, the tribe fanned out into a wide ring.

No one moved to strike.

No one spoke.

They stood still. Not out of fear, but discipline.

Spears held like extensions of their spines.

Eyes sharp.

Breathe steady.

A living wall between the Nomu and the rest of their village.

They were not there to fight.

They were there to witness. 

The barbarians, obediently watching from the side, observed. Their lungs barely functioned, hearts drumming against their ribs like war drums.

It felt ancient, like they were intruding on something sacred.

And then…

Toshinori’s voice boomed across the field. He and the rest of the council stood on a taller part of the village, near enough to watch everything unfold.

“Vâkôg’üj vapâjya!”

The words cracked like thunder.

Words unknown to the five barbarians.

The Nomu flinched, its head spinning around toward the sound, but the call wasn’t meant for it.

It was meant for them.

The warriors responded as one.

“Vâkôg’üj!”

Their voices thundered like the heartbeat of the land. Then, together, they slammed their spears into the dirt.

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

The ground shivered with the force of it. It was not a battle cry, it was a sentence. This beast would not leave alive.

Katsuki observed as Izuku remained still in the center. He was breathing, but barely, as if he didn’t want the eyeless beast to hear him. Katsuki’s alpha couldn’t help but stir uncomfortably. He didn’t think the omega was weak, not at all, but his instincts still screamed at him to move. To get the omega out of there, or at least fight beside him.

But then.

The omega moved. So fast they barely registered it. A blur of motion. A whisper of wind. The glint of his blade casting a slim light. They saw as his spear sliced through the air with a keen swoosh.

The Nomu roared, lunging forward with a clawed swipe meant to tear the omega in half.

But Izuku wasn’t there.

The five barbarians witnessed as the green-eyed boy disappeared in front of their eyes and then reappeared behind the beast. He twisted on his heel, rising just enough to ram one of the ends of his spear into the creature's exposed shoulder joint.

 The Nomu shrieked, stumbling away from the omega.

Around him, the tribe pounded their spears again.

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

They did not cheer, did not shout, just kept watching as the omega took on the beast.

Izuku didn’t slow down, he didn’t falter. His feet moved with impossible precision, steps light, swaying like a leaf through the wind. But his strikes landed like a thousand hammers. He darted left, ducked a second swing, and slashed the beast’s thigh, then drove the spear into its side before pulling it free in a spray of thick blood.

“Vâkôg’üj! Vâkôg’üj!” The village chanted again.

Katsuki’s mouth had gone dry. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white. This wasn’t a show of brute strength. It wasn’t reckless. It was something almost elegant. It was death made beautiful.

The Nomu bellowed, a deep, beastly sound that reverberated through the village like a living earthquake. Its malformed body pulsed with rage, veins bulging beneath twisted skin, claws tearing through the air with enough force to split stone.

And yet, Izuku moved like the wind. He glided out of reach, his steps ghost-silent. He did not rush, he did not falter. Every motion was precise, each step moving with a rhythm only he seemed to hear.

He didn’t try to overpower it, that would have been foolish. He didn’t need strength, he had something far more dangerous. Patience and knowledge.

Izuku circled the beast slowly, calculating, studying. His eyes never left the creature’s grotesque form. The spear in his hand was steady, not raised yet, not throwing it, but ready.

All around them, the tribe stood still, a living circle of unbreakable will. They didn’t move to help, they didn’t call out. They knew they didn’t have to. This was Izuku’s fight, it was his hunt.

The Nomu shrieked and lunged again, massive claws slicing downward. Bark exploded from a nearby tree as it missed, the force of the beast enough to splinter the trunk.

But Izuku didn’t flinch.

He weaved away with a calm fluidity, never letting the momentum break his form. His breaths were slow, measured. His stance holding years of training.

And then it came, a flicker of opportunity.

The Nomu raised its arm high, prepared to crush him, its rage blinding. And in its rage, it exposed its side, a crack in its armor.

“Kúchœ!” The voice of the tribe was heard again, final and powerful. Their spears thumped one more time. The message clear and loud.

Finish it.  

Izuku moved.

The ground trembled under the force of his foot slamming into the soil, propelling him forward with explosive speed. His body became a blur, a streak of green, and then he rose into the air, higher than any of the barbarians expected.

Time seemed to stretch.

The spear spun once in his grip, then plunged forward, sharp and merciless, sticking it under the Nomu’s arm.  Straight into the armpit where he knew the beast’s heart was.

A wet visceral sound followed. The Nomu didn’t even scream, its body convulsed violently, spasming as if electrocuted. Its arms flailed.

Then, with a heavy thud, it collapsed.

Face first.

Dead.

For a long moment, the world was quiet. No one moved. No one breathed.

Then, the tribe raised their spears in one final motion. And with perfect unity, they struck the earth.

THUMP.

Izuku stood over the beast’s corpse, as the blood of the creature soaked into the dirt around his feet. His chest rose and fell slowly, the only sign that he had exerted himself at all.

For the first time since the battle had begun, the circle broke in order to let Toshinori through. He stepped forward, tall and proud. In his hand, a shallow clay bowl filled with a dark liquid.

He dipped two fingers into the bowl, coating them in the dark, thick liquid.

Then he turned his attention to Izuku.

The omega dropped to one knee, bowing his head in a practiced motion.

Toshinori placed his bloodied fingers to Izuku’s forehead, drawing a symbol, a jagged line crossed by two arcs.

As he worked, he spoke more words that the barbarians didn’t understand, but they could still feel the weight of them.

“Mârɞpó. Vapâjya. Kewhachuhq.”

The final thump of Toshinori’s fingers against Izuku’s forehead sealed the rite.

The tribe answered with one last rumble of their spears.

As Izuku rose slowly, mark across his forehead like a crown, Katsuki’s resolve was clear.

What stood before him, who stood before him, was more than just an omega his alpha seemed to like.

He woke something primal inside of him, something feral and raw. It rose like a beast waking from a long sleep. And it whispered a single truth.

He wanted him.

Hopeful heavens, he wanted him.  

Katsuki Bakugo wanted Izuku Midoriya. That wild contradiction of an omega. A healer with blood in his hands and gentleness in his touch. A warrior who moved like the wind.

He wanted all of him.

The sharp-tongued leader. The sweet-hearted healer. The unrelenting, mask-clad predator dancing through battle like he was born in it.

Katsuki felt something break inside of him. A need surged through him, primal and overwhelming.

He wanted to claim Izuku, yes. But more than that, he wanted to belong to him.

And as the victorious roars of the tribe filled the air and Izuku stood at the center of it all, radiant and ruthless, Bakugo couldn’t look away.

Not only would he make Izuku his, no, that wasn’t enough.

He would make sure Izuku knew Katsuki was also his to own. Mind, body, soul.

Willingly and completely.

That was Katsuki’s goal. And he would complete it.

Chapter Text

For years, Katsuki had never even batted an eye at any omega that approached him.

And there had been a lot of them. Hell, half of his damn tribe had practically paraded in front of him at one point or another. Not that he could blame them. He was the prime example of what an alpha should be. Strong, great provider—he was the best damn hunter in his tribe—and respected. Add the fact that he was the only son of the current leaders, and that made him even more desirable, especially to people who sought power.

But never once had he felt anything. Not for an omega, hell, not even for a beta. The closest he had come to it had been when he thought he thought he had a crush on Eijiro when they were still pups. And that hadn’t even lasted long. He soon learned that respecting someone doesn’t equal to liking them romantically. Because that’s all it was. He respected him as an equal, that was it.

So yeah, that’s about it.

Which begs the fucking question.

Why the hell is he acting like a smitten pup right now?

Ever since the other day, since he had seen Izuku take down that Nomu, his alpha had been even more annoying. He already felt attracted to the omega, but now his alpha was yearning, he was restless whenever the omega wasn’t near.

The thing is, he could still see it.

The Nomu, that massive and snarling beast, and Izuku. He could still see the way the small omega had charged to battle without even thinking twice.

No backup needed.

His tribe just stood there. They didn’t lift a finger. Not because they were cruel, but because they knew the omega could defeat that thing on his own. They believed in him so fiercely. They stood there like sentinels, forging a wall to keep the creature from escaping. And Izuku stood alone before the beast.

And he won.

He destroyed that thing with nothing but strength and tactics. Like it was something he had done numerous times before. He probably had.

And it was the most majestic, terrifying thing he had ever witnessed.

So now Katsuki was a man on a mission.

He’d made it his goal, his personal fucking crusade, to attend to every need of the omega.

Izuku needed more water for his herbs? Katsuki was already at the river filling the clay jars himself.

Izuku mentioned needing stronger wood for a structure? Katsuki was already halfway up the ridge hacking it down, even if it meant hauling the logs back alone.

When the omega had offhandedly said his fire pit wasn’t catching fire right, the blonde had practically launched himself at the thing like it had insulted his ancestors.

And he didn’t stop there. If Izuku was lifting something heavy, Katsuki was right by his side asking if he needed help with it. If the omega seemed tired, Katsuki would find a place for him to rest. Whenever he so much as glanced at any fruit with interest, Katsuki would be buying every fruit those vendors had. He had soon learned that his the omega had a sweet tooth, thus preferred the sweetest fruits.

All without being asked.

Because somehow, the stubborn alpha who had once sworn he’d never chase after anyone was now completely, pathetically, and undeniably smitten.

And his fucking extras wouldn’t shut the hell up about it.

“No ‘cause, remember when he said he would never bend his pride for some pretty face. Sero said, grinning like a madman.

They were currently resting in the mender’s shack. They were told they would receive a checkup to see how their injuries were doing so far. And his fucking “friends” had decided it was a good time to fucking annoy him.

“I remember something along the lines of, ‘I’ll never be like those weak bastards who fall over themselves when they get a whiff of an omega’s scent, ’” Mina added with a laugh, loud and obnoxious.

“Man of honor, pride of the tribe,” Kaminari chimed in, mimicking Katsuki’s gruff voice, clasping a hand over his chest, making the others laugh.

Katsuki was so close to beating the shit out of them. But the truth was, they weren’t wrong.

Because he had said that.

Hell, he used to laugh at the poor bastards who lost their pride the moment an omega batted their lashes at them.

And look at where he was now. Making sure the sweet omega—the same that could bring a beast down single-handedly, mind you—had everything he wanted without so much as asking.

And the worst part? He didn’t give a flying fuck.

Because every smile the omega directed at him, every little ‘thanks’ he muttered, even the smallest of nods, it made Katsuki’s alpha’s chest swell with pride.

And, call him crazy, but Katsuki felt like he was getting close to earning the omega’s heart.

“Next thing you know he is going to start carving their names into a tree,” Kirishima teased his best friend lightly making the blonde turn to him with a glare as the others laughed harder.

Katsuki huffed as he crossed his arms. “You morons done?”

And before anyone could respond, the door of the shack creaked open.

As if a switch had been thrown, their voices fell into instant silence.

Izuku stepped in, followed closely by Momo, both their hands full with woven baskets. Behind them walked a figure, body covered by a dark cloak and face covered by a wooden mask carved in the shape of a bird with a beak, a crow. The masked figure steps behind them, arms also full with some extra baskets, and leaves them on a table.

“Thanks, Fumi,” Izuku said softly. The cloaked person, Fumi, simply bowed his head and left the shack in silence.

Momo crouched beside the fire, already pulling out salves and wraps. “We are just going to quickly check how your wounds are doing. We brought some salves since you said some burns and scrapes were getting kinda itchy.” She said, speaking mostly to Denki who nodded.

Both of the healers step into action fast enough. They were unwrapping, disinfecting, and wrapping them again in a practiced motion.

This was a rhythm they were all already accustomed to due to weeks of them being treated by the healers in the savage lands.

This time, though, the usual silence was broken by Sero. “Can I ask you guys a question?” he said making all heads turn to him.

“Of course,” Momo replied after a moment, her hands still busy applying some salve to Denki’s scrapes.

“What are the rules behind the whole wearing masks thing?” he asked. Momo and Izuku shared a confused look, not quite sure about what the beta meant by that. Noticing their confusion, Sero decided to explain his question better. “I mean like, I’ve seen you guys wear your masks only during certain occasions. When you found us, when we met the council, and during the battle the other day. But I don’t think I’ve seen that guy, um… Fumi? Without a mask like ever.”

Denki nodded, catching onto what Sero was saying, “Oh, yeah. Now that you mention it. I think I have seen quite a couple of people who wear their masks all the time.”

“Ah,” Izuku and Momo muttered at the same time. “It’s a fair question. Well, in general, we wear our masks during official duties. Like when we are hunting or gathering materials outside. We also have to wear them during any formal meeting, like with the council. And, of course, during any battle.” Izuku said.

Momo continued, “It’s part of our culture. Masks help us blend in with the woods, and they also represent us.” She finished wrapping Denki and stepped back. “However, some of our people choose to wear them even beyond that. For some of them, their masks are more than ceremonial, it’s their identity. Fumikage, the guy who just left, is one of them. He wears his mask all of the time, only takes it off around his family or his mate.” 

“Oh, sounds like something very personal,” Kirishima muttered.

Izuku nodded, “They are. Our masks are something very personal for each of us. They are not just something we wear to hide our faces, they are part of who we are.”

“When we reach our fifteenth year, we undergo a rite of passage.” Momo continued, “The first task in that ritual is to carve our own mask. It’s done alone, with the moon as our sole witness.”

Izuku added, “It carries our spirit. In our culture, we believe that our masks also carry our memories, a legacy. It carries our victories, our losses, our everything. Which is why, for some of our people, taking it off is like peeling away a layer of skin. Fumikage wears his like a second soul. It carries his sorrow. And we all respect that.”

The five barbarians were silent for a moment, the information sinking in. Then, Kirishima shifted and cleared his throat.

“Maybe I’m overstepping by asking this,” he said cautiously, “especially since he’s not here to answer himself… but, I noticed that he, Fumikage, right? He always carries a second mask attached to his back when I see him patrolling. Another crow mask. Is there a reason for that?”

Izuku and Momo exchanged a glance.

Momo hesitated, and Izuku’s voice came out quieter than before. “That’s… It’s not really our story to tell.”

Just then, as if summoned, the hut’s door creaked open. Cool air swept in, and with it, standing tall, was Tokoyami Fumikage. He had come back to deliver a basket they had left behind.

“I believe it was my name that was pronounced,” he said as he set the basket near the others.

There was a moment of silence. No one spoke. They all just gave him time to gather his thoughts.

“The second mask belonged to my twin brother.”

The room seemed to still at this.

The five barbarians just stared, not knowing what to do or say. Izuku and Momo simply stepped closer to the masked boy, as if to offer their support silently.

“He was known among our people as Dark Shadow,” Tokoyami said after a minute, voice carried in a low whisper. “A name he claimed for himself on the day we carved our masks. He desired to strike fear into the hearts of foes before he even drew his blade.”

A sigh was heard behind his mask, “He was… exuberant. Ever smiling, ever speaking. A soul boundless energy. The mirror opposite of myself. Though for all he was joy, he was also a beast on the battlefield.”

His fingers drifted to the second mask, the one hanging from his hip at that moment. The carvings on it were rougher and more chaotic than his own one.

“A few moons ago, we had an encounter with a commander deep in the forest,” he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. “What should have been a simple patrol became a battlefield soaked in loss. I returned, he did not.”

He sighed and started making his way out again, standing at the doorway.

“I carry his mask so his spirit may walk beside me,” he finished. “To lay it down, or bury it, would be to abandon him. For as long as I carry it with me, he is not gone.”

Tokoyami bowed his head and turned to leave, Izuku and Momo responded by bowing too and watching him leave the shack.

The place was left quiet in his absence. Only the gentle sound of burning wood filled the air.

It wasn’t until the sound of his footsteps had faded completely that someone, Denki perhaps, let out a shaky breath. It was followed y the others. As if they had all been collectively holding their breaths.

“I… wanted to say something,” Mina said while hugging her knees. “But it didn’t feel right.”

“It’s better that you didn’t,” Momo said gently. “In our tribe, we don’t see death as something to receive pity from. We mourn and move on.”

“We believe the souls of the fallen ones never leave, only the body that once held it,” Izuku added.

“That’s why our masks matter so much to us,” Momo continued, her gaze turning to the door from which Tokoyami had previously left. “It’s not just something we randomly carve. It’s a vessel for our souls.”

 There was a silence again, until it was broken. This time, it was Katsuki who broke, speaking up for the first time. “How do you do it? The whole choosing what to carve,” he said, making the others turn to him. “It’s something that I’m sorta curious about…”

Momo smiled softly, “We don’t choose it ourselves, the moon does.”

Izuku stepped closer to the blonde, working quickly on unwrapping the alpha’s bandages to clean the wounds. “On the eve of our fifteenth year, when the moon reaches her highest point, we are led into the forest by the elders with the moon as our only source of light.”

“And when the time is right,” Momo picked up from where Izuku had left it, “Our elders light up a torch, one that has been present through generations. They give it to us and tell us we should choose our rock to ignite. Once you choose yours, you place the fire of the torch against the stone.”

“The flame changes color after that,” Izuku smiled as he remembers his rite of passage moons ago. “And a figure appears in it. An owl, a turtle, a phoenix, whatever creature the moon and the gods think is a representation of your soul and spirit, that’s what you see.”

The five barbarians awed at this, it sounded like a beautiful ritual. Of course, they had their own traditions back at home, some very unique since they shared their culture with the dragons, but this was something they hadn’t heard before.

“That’s very manly,” Kirishima’s voice chimed in, the redhead smiling from where he sat. “Yeah, when I turned fifteen the only thing I got was being thrown into a river and told to try not to drown.” Sero added with a lopsided grin.

That earned a few chuckles from everyone in the shack.

Izuku finished cleaning Katsuki’s wounds and started wrapping them once again. “Your wounds are looking better now,” he muttered under his breath. “The swelling’s gone down. That’s good.” He smiled and looked up at Katsuki, “You should rest more, though. You have been doing a lot of physical activity lately. And, while I appreciate the extra help, I would appreciate it even more if you took better care of your health.”

Katsuki grunted, he could hear the bastards he calls friends snickering. Fuckers, see if he saves their asses ever again.

“Dinner should be ready soon. We should go see if they need any more help.” Momo said as she moved quietly, putting everything back in order.

Izuku nodded. “Let’s go, and try not to move too much, all of you. We just changed your bandages, and we don’t want any sweat to get into them right away.”

They all nodded, knowing better than to disobey the omega. They carefully got up and followed Momo and Izuku out, more than ready to sink their teeth into some meat.

Chapter Text

Katsuki watched as the sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in molten gold and purple. He and his friends were holed up in the same shack they had been calling home for the past few weeks, almost a month now. Earlier that morning, they had been told to remain inside until someone came for them. No explanation, just that “you’ll be fetched when the time is right.”.

He exhaled, dragging a hand across his face as he glanced at the others. They were all sprawled across the floor in various states of boredom. After weeks of nonstop movement—helping, fixing, learning, and adapting—being told to do nothing felt more like a punishment than an actual opportunity to rest. Judging by the collective sighs and restless shifting, his four idiots felt the same.

And he really couldn’t blame them for getting attached.

The people at the savage village had been nothing but welcoming. Warm, even. Denki came back each night with clay under his nails and stories tumbling from his mouth, tales of the village children teaching him how to sculpt and of him trying to teach them some jokes in return. Mina and Kirishima were practically adopted by every elder in the village at this point, all of them fawning over the mated couple like doting grandparents. And Sero seemed to have formed a tight relationship with the hunters, his sticky traps quickly earned their quiet respect.

And Katsuki?

Well.

he had tried to spend as much time with Izuku as he could, without being obvious about it—not that it matters since the omega seemed to be oblivious as fuck. He knew better than to cling to a single person, though, especially an omega. So, he made himself useful anywhere he could. Carrying bundles, sharpening weapons, helping a hunched old man repair his rickety fruit stand, even joining hunting trips when asked. But his favorite place to be—aside from near the green-eyed omega—was with Inko Midoriya, his the omega’s dam.

The woman had such a motherly aura around her that he couldn’t help but feel attracted to it. It wasn’t necessarily that she acted like his mom—she was far too gentle for that—but she made him feel like he was home. He had started helping her make food for the pups every morning. Apparently not only was she the head healer, but she was also praised for her cooking skills. And since Katsuki knew his way around the kitchen fire, it felt like the perfect opportunity to spend more time near his intended’s dam.

However, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it this much. 

Inko treated him like she’d known him since he was a toddler, fusing over him, swatting at his hands when he tried to sneak a taste, giving him second helpings even when he grumbled that he wasn’t hungry. She spoke to him gently but firmly, with a kind of effortless affection that Katsuki didn’t know what to do with. To everyone else, he was a hulking alpha with a short fuse, but to her, he was just another pup she needed to feed.

And though he would never admit it out loud… he loved it.

It was easy to see where Izuku got it from. That quiet warmth, that natural shine that pulled people in, the way Inko smiled, the way she offered comfort without hesitation or condition, reminded him so much of the omega that Katsuki often found himself staring at, struck by how familiar it felt.

Yeah, he could definitely get used to that.

But right now, they were pretty much confined in.

They could hear the commotion outside. The entire village had been preparing for something… what, exactly, they had no idea. Uraraka and that Iida guy had shown up earlier to tell them not to leave the shack, that someone would come get them when the time was right.

So, they’d spent the entire day holed up inside, bored out of their minds. Every so often, someone would drop off food or bath supplies, but that was about it.

 And worst of all?

Katsuki hadn’t seen his omega all day. Not even a glimpse. Not a single strand of green hair, not one freckled cheek in sight. He could’ve sworn he heard Izuku’s voice earlier, but that could’ve been wishful thinking from his green omega-deprived brain.

He was mid-grumble, mentally cursing whoever decided on this ridiculous lockdown, when the shack door creaked open.

The second he caught a whiff of that glorious, familiar scent, his body snapped to attention.

Then he turned around and all air left his lungs.

There, standing in the doorway, was Izuku.

Gone were his usual leather and woven tunics he wore daily. Instead, he had a deep green sash of layered, dyed leather wrapped around his waist, hanging low in his hips and secured with woven vines and beadwork that shimmered faintly in the firelight. His chest was bare, painted with winding markings in shades of black and ochre, symbols Katsuki didn’t understand. The paint curled up his sides and over his shoulders, trailing down his arms like vines. Even his hands bore marks spiraling around his fingers and wrists like roots of something powerful.

His cheeks, those adorable cheeks Katsuki had been wanting to nibble on, were now covered by painted streaks, a single dot over the center of his brow. There were small pieces of jewelry too, bone carved and stone looped through his ears, and a necklace of shaped wood and amber hugged his neck.

He looked like a divine being, brought straight out of a legend.

And he was staring directly at Katsuki with those impossibly bright green eyes.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you guys here all day,” Izuku said, his voice soft with guilt and warmth.

“No worries,” Kirishima replied as he and the others stood from where they’d been sprawled across the floor.

“Yeah, we were just a little bored,” Sero added while stretching his arms over his head. “Guess we got used to doing hard labor all day, huh?”

Izuku let out a gentle laugh. That beautiful, almost musical sound that Katsuki was starting to crave like crazy.

“I can imagine,” the omega said.

Katsuki’s gaze dropped to Izuku’s arms and caught sight of a bundle cradled against his chest.

“Whatcha got there?” He asked as he stepped closer.

“Oh!” Izuku blinked and looked down at the items in his hold, almost as id he’d forgotten them. “These are for you guys to wear. Please put them on, I’ll be back really soon!” he added quickly.

Before Katsuki could get another word in, Izuku shoved the bundle into his arms and dashed off, leaving only a trace of his scent and the faint jingle of the beads tied around his ankles.

“The hell?”

Denki was already leaning in, tugging at the tied fabric with curiosity. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…”

They unwrapped the bundle to reveal folded garments made of leather, cloth, and braided vines, decorated with feathers, beads, and earth-toned paints. Tucked into each piece was a small piece of bark with names written in neat ink.

“This one’s yours, flat face,” Katsuki muttered after he pulled out a piece with ‘Sero’ scrawled on it and tossed it over.

Sero raised an eyebrow but caught the outfit anyway. One by one, Katsuki sorted through the pieces and passed them out, each one marked for one of them specifically.

As soon as everyone had their set of clothing, they began changing without hesitation, Denki and Mina slipping behind different sectioned-off parts of the shack while Katsuki, Kirishima, and Sero stayed where they were.

The materials felt odd, rougher but not uncomfortable. They were lighter than the other pieces of clothing they had received during their stay, made mostly for easier mobility.

Katsuki had already suspected that the villagers were preparing for some kind of ceremonial celebration. What he hadn’t been sure of was whether they would be allowed to witness or take part in it. But judging by the clothes they had just been handed, it looked like they wouldn’t just be guests, they would be participants.

Their presence had been acknowledged. Accepted, even.

And now, clothed in these garments, they were being invited into something sacred.

Each set of ceremonial clothing was distinct, not just in size or shape, but in how it was adorned. Clearly, it meant to reflect their second genders—alpha, beta, omega.

Kirishima’s outfit was the most similar to Katsuki’s. Mina’s chest was bound in a snug wrap of dark reddish fabric that crossed over her front and tied securely at the back. Her lower half was covered with a skirt made of layered leather strips and dyed fabrics, ornamented with dangling bones painted in soft tones of gold and green. The clothing was made for a female alpha.

Kirishima’s and Katsuki’s, on the other hand, had both of their chests bare. Leather straps crossed diagonally across their torsos, not for coverage but to carry small charms, feathers, or bone totems. Their pants were made of soft, worn leather dyed with charcoal and deep red pigments, loose enough for movement but snug at the waist. Bits of fur lined the cuffs, and thick anklets of woven fiber were wrapped around their calves. The clothing was made for two male alphas.

Sero, as a beta, wore something less aggressive but no less striking. His upper half was also bare, a long feather necklace covering most of his chest. His pants were a paler shade of brown than the alphas’, and more intricately stitched, with rows of tiny beads and dyed cords looped through the waistband. Matching feathers tassels hung off his hips.

And Denki’s outfit mirrored Izuku’s with gentle reverence. Like the green omega, he wore a long wrap skirt tied at the hip with twine, loose enough to swish around his legs, and his arms were decorated with vine-woven bangles and little bells that chimed softly when he moved.

“Damn… we look good!” Denki was the first to break the silence, checking each of his packmates with a grin.

“Hell yeah we do!” Mina grin while twirling around Kirishima, who was watching her with a soft, adoring smile adorning his face.

They were in the middle of admiring and teasing each other about their clothing when the door creaked open again. This time, it wasn’t just Izuku who came in, he came along with Iida, Momo, Ochako, and Shinsou, a smug purple-haired alpha they’d met a few times while doing their assigned duties.

All five of them gave the group a quick once-over, eyes flicking over.

“Not bad,” Shinsou muttered, nodding slightly in approval. Katsuki didn’t miss the way Denki seemed to go a little pink in the cheeks. Of fucking course. The blonde omega had been nursing a dumb little puppy crush on the purple bastard for days now.

Katsuki found him annoying as hell. Shinsou kept giving him that cocky smirk whenever Katsuki got too close to Izuku. Even worse, the bastard had the nerve to deliberately draw his Izuku’s attention away from the blonde alpha. The fucker.

“You guys look great!” Ochako said brightly, flashing two enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Indeed,” Iida added, adjusting his glasses with practiced precision. “The only thing missing now is the ceremonial paint. With your consent, we’d like to do the application.”

He bowed politely, and before anyone else could speak, Sero immediately stepped forward.

“You can do me! I mean—” He cleared his throat as Kirishima and Denki snorted behind him. “You can paint me, if that’s alright…”

Iida blinked but nodded, beckoning the grinning beta towards a corner with some paint bowls already in his hands.

Ochako stepped up next, turning toward Denki with a warm smile. “Would it be okay if I do yours?” she asked softly.

Denki smiled back, his posture relaxing in the presence of the other omega. “Sure thing.”

They both disappeared into another corner, chatting easily as they went.

“I’ll be doing yours, if that’s okay,” Momo said to Mina with a gentle smile.

Mina perked up immediately. “Absolutely!” she chirped, following Momo across the room.

Katsuki, meanwhile, was standing still, waiting for Izuku to approach him. He was already preparing himself to play it cool when—

Oh, hell no…

“Oh, I’ll be doing yours, Mr. Big Bad Alpha,” Shinsou cut in with a smirk that made Katsuki’s eye twitch.

What.The.Fuck.

Izuku, meanwhile, had already walked off with Kirishima, chatting away as they settled in a corner of the room. The omega didn’t even glance back.

“Can’t have an unmated omega painting an unmated alpha, now, can we?” Shinsou added smoothly, one brow raised, clearly enjoying himself. “Tribe rules.”

Katsuki huffed, jaw tight. He couldn’t argue. Not when he was a guest in their land, under their customs. Still, that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Izuku let out a soft giggle as he gently guided Kirishima to sit, already reaching for the paint to mark the red alpha’s chest with easy familiarity.

Katsuki’s alpha whimpered inside his chest.

Shinsou laughed at this while coating his fingers in dark paint.

This fucker.

As Shinsou began painting intricate symbols long his arms, Katsuki’s gaze drifted toward where the omega had wandered off with his packmate. He watched as Izuku laughed at something Kirishima had said. The sound made something in Katsuki’s chest twist uncomfortably.

He knew better than to feel jealous of Kirishima, of all people. The guy had eyes for his mate and his mate only. But that didn’t stop Katsuki’s alpha from bristling at the sight of his chosen omega smiling so freely with another alpha.

A low chuckle pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned his head sharply, scowl already in place.

“What the fuck is so funny, you purple bastard?” he snapped.

“You,” Shinsou said without missing a beat, smirking as his finger dipped into the paint again. “Watching you get so territorial over someone who isn’t yours.”

“Why you—”

Shinsou let out a short laugh, starting a new set of markings long Katsuki’s chest. “Relax. For your own good, you should know that Izuku doesn’t like alphas who treat him like property.”

Katsuki froze, his growl quieting.

“You’re not the first one to get like this over him,” Shinsou added. “Be grateful I’m the one warning you. The others learned the hard way.”

Katsuki huffed but didn’t argue. He files the information away. The last thing he wanted was to be lumped in with the bastards who’d disgusted Izuku in the past.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced at Shinsou, who was focused on the painting once again. “And how the hell do you know that? Were you one of them?”

Shinsou smirked at that. “Why? Would it piss you off if I was?”

Katsuki growled low in his throat, making Shinsou laugh.

“Gee. Moody.”

He reached for the third and final bowl of paint, dipping a different finger in. As he resumed his work, his voice dropped slightly.

“No. I’m not like that. Izuku’s like a brother to me. He was the first person to befriend me when everyone else thought I was just some weird, creepy kid. We used to be in the same tribe before we came here.”

Katsuki’s brow furrowed. “Wait, used to? So, you didn’t live here originally?”

Shinsou shook his head slightly. “None of us did. Not at first, anyway. A few of the younger ones were born here, but Izuku and I arrived when we were eight.”

His fingers paused for a moment. His eyes moved toward Izuku, who was now gently painting Kirishima’s back again. Something flickered in his gaze. A memory, maybe. Something heavy, for sure.

“We left our old tribe because of certain circumstances,” he said carefully. “Not really my story to tell.”

He resumed painting with more pressure now, as if grounding himself. “We wandered for a while, Auntie Inko guided us without a destiny in mind, and eventually we found this place. Back then, the tribe was smaller, barely holding itself together, but it welcomed people like us. Outcasts.”

Outcasts.

The word hit heavier than Katsuki expected. He had questions, too many, but one look at Shinsou’s unreadable scowl told him now wasn’t the time to ask.

“There,” Shinsou said, wiping his finger on a cloth. “All done. And look, the rest are finishing up too. Good for you, you can go back to trailing Izuku’s tail now.”

Katsuki bared his teeth. “I’m gonna end you.”

Shinsou just winked and sauntered off to rejoin the others near the entrance.

Fucker.

“Well, everything’s done. Now you definitely won’t look out of place,” Izuku said, giving everyone a quick once-over with a satisfied smile.

Katsuki glanced around and noticed that his friends were now completely marked up. Between the tribal clothing and the paint adorning their skin, they really did look the part. They looked like they belonged.

“I think we look a-mazing!” Denki declared as he struck a pose and pointed two fingers at the five savages standing near the door. He even threw in a dramatic wink.

That earned a round of chuckles, even the purple fuck—which would no doubt boost Denki’s ego.

“Well, now that that’s done,” Momo spoke up, stepping forward gracefully. “Before we join the others, we wanted to explain a bit about what’s happening tonight.”

Iida took it from there, “Every three months, we celebrate a survival cycle. It’s a tradition to honor our endurance as a tribe, as well as to remember those we’ve lost.”

His voice dipped slightly at the end, solemn.

“We gather around the fire and share stories,” Ochako added softly. “Some are about those we’ve lost, others about the victories of those still with us. We eat and dance too, it’s pretty cool.”

She smiled brightly, trying to lift the mood. Izuku giggled beside her.

“You’re all welcome to share your own stories too,” he said warmly, eyes scanning over each of them. “I’m sure everyone would love to hear them.”

His gaze landed on Katsuki just a second longer than necessary, and the blonde felt his heart jolt at the sight of that damn smile.

“Well then,” Izuku said, gesturing toward the door with a tilt of his head. “Shall we?”

The five barbarians exchanged glances, then turned back to the group, nodding and smiling in return.

Just like that, they left the shack together. They were excited to see what this was about.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The cycle of survival was Izuku’s favorite celebration. Not only did it give everyone a chance to honor their fallen comrades through stories of their courage and strength, but it also meant that he got to hear new victory tales he hadn’t heard before. And best of all, he had the perfect excuse to retell his sire’s stories, even if everyone else had already heard them a hundred times.

Yagi had told him more than once that he didn’t have to do it. That the villagers would much rather hear his stories instead. But Izuku always noticed the way the older man’s eyes lit up whenever he began recounting them—loud, animated, and proud. So, of course, he’d keep doing it. How could he not?

Besides, this time they had guests. Guests who had never heard the tales of All Might.

It was the perfect opportunity to dazzle them.

But first, the celebration had to begin.

The opening event was the ceremonial dance, performed by the tribe’s omegas under the glow of the moon and the flickering firelight. It was another of Izuku’s favorite moments. The music, the movement, the energy… it made him feel free in a way few other things did.

He was still preparing when his gaze wandered to the gathered crowd. The barbarians were sitting with his friends now, laughing and chatting like they’d been part of the tribe for years. It warmed something in his chest.

They had been here for a while now. At first, Izuku hadn’t known if the elders in the council would let them stay, his tribe had grown cautious with outsiders over the past few years. But they had let him treat the group’s injuries when they’d first arrived, and Izuku was grateful for that.

His friends liked to tease him, saying it was because Yagi had a soft spot for him. Maybe it was true, maybe not, but Izuku knew the real reason. Toshinori Yagi wouldn’t let anyone suffer if he could help it. Not after what he’d gone through. Not when he’d once been in their exact same position.

Izuku smiled softly as he watched the barbarians blend in with the villagers so effortlessly. You couldn’t tell by looking at them that they were once strangers. Now? They looked like they belonged.

Not many outsiders stuck around long. Most ran or attacked the tribe on sight, spooked by the exaggerated stories that painted them as monsters. Violent, feral beasts. Stupid lies. Whatever, their loss.

His gaze moved again, drawn by instinct, until it landed on a certain blonde alpha.

Kacchan…

Yeah, that name had kind of… slipped out.

It started when the alpha had insisted they start calling each other by their names. A nice gesture, really. But Izuku had struggled with his actual name. The barbarian language wasn’t exactly his strong suit, and the guttural sounds of Kacchan’s name tripped him up every time. So, he’d panicked, defaulting to something silly and cute.

Kacchan.

He’d been horrified the second it left his mouth. Giving such a childish nickname to a hulking, serious alpha? Embarrassing. Absolutely humiliating. He’d braced himself for teasing, or worse, for the alpha to be offended.

But Katsuki just blinked and looked away. Said it was fine. That Izuku could call him that if he wanted. He could’ve sworn he saw the alpha’s ears turn red, but maybe he was just seeing things.

However, it seems like Izuku was the only one allowed to call him that.

Because when his friend, Kaminari, had tried to use the same nickname, Kacchan’s scowl could’ve curled blood, Denki hadn’t dared try again.

Izuku wasn’t sure why that was.

But the thought had made his stomach feel weird.

Maybe it was something he ate. Too many roasted berries always made his stomach react a certain way.

What he did know was that the alpha had been unexpectedly kind.

Izuku had kind of expected the worst, especially after the first encounter, when the alpha had just woken up. All growls and threats. He thought he would be dealing with some angry, gruff, impossible brute.

But then Kacchan had been anything but that.

He had turned out to be… gentle. Not soft, no, Kacchan was still rough around the edges, but never in an intentionally mean way. He was kind, in a quiet way. Like bringing Izuku food when the omega stayed too much time in the infirmary, nudging his bowl closer whenever Izuku got too concentrated on something.

Kirishima and Mina were the same, warm and kind. Maybe it was a barbarian thing, maybe alphas were just generally kinder over there.

Still, it was Kacchan who stayed on his mind the most.

He even got along with Izuku’s dam.

Izuku had caught them near the fire pits more than once in the mornings. Kacchan helping his dam grind herbs or prepare the day’s meals, listening to her chatter with that scowl of his, one that holds no heat behind it. She liked him. A lot. Always talked about how helpful he was, how respectful he was, how strong he was.

“Such a fine young alpha,” she’d say with a smile. “He’ll make a wonderful mate someday.”

And Izuku agreed. Totally.

Kacchan was attentive, capable, and kind beneath the roughness. A great hunter. Strong. Reliable. For all he grumbles about his friends being ‘annoying assholes’, he always made sure they were safe. He had a sharp mind and even sharper instinct.

And his arms.

His arms were… well. Big. Very big.

Any omega would be lucky to have him.

That thought should’ve made Izuku happy. That someone would see all of that and appreciate it. That kacchan would have someone who made him smile, who brought out the softness he kept hidden under all those muscles and scowls.

But instead, it made Izuku feel kind of hollow. Like someone had scooped out a part of him and left nothing but ash.

It made no sense for him to feel that way.

And yet, the idea of Kacchan smiling and looking at someone else…

It made his chest hurt.

Why did his chest hurt?

Well, he tried not to think about it too hard.

He had something to do. Something important and sacred.

So thoughts of broad shoulders, warm crimson eyes, and bug—really big, stupidly chunky—arms needed to stay far, far away. Preferably locked in a box and buried deep in the forest.

Pull yourself together, Izuku!

He shook his head and let out a sharp breath, puffing his cheeks before exhaling. Focus. Tonight wasn’t about confusing stomach behaviors or daydreams he had no business entertaining. Tonight was about honoring the past and embracing the present.

“You ready, Zu?” came Ochako’s voice beside him.

Izuku turned to her and smiled. “I’m always ready,” he said, puffing his chest just a little.

Ochako grinned and extended her fist toward him. “Good. Let’s blow their minds!”

He giggled and bumped his fist against hers, the gesture grounding him. The nerves started to fade. A little, at least.

The drum began to beat, low, rhythmic, and ancient.

It flowed through Izuku’s body.

He was so ready.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The steady thrum of the drums cut through the night like thunder wrapped in silk, echoing through the village clearing. It stirred something deep in Katsuki’s chest, something primal and curious, something he didn’t quite have a name for.

He straightened from where he sat beside Kirishima and scanned the fire-lit space. The villagers began to hush, turning toward the open pathway between the shacks.

And then they appeared.

The omegas filed in one by one in a smooth, practiced line. Their faces were hidden behind fans crafted from thick palm leaves and twisted vines, aside from what they were already wearing before, they now had flowing cloths that shimmered in the firelight, draping from their bodies.

They looked like something out of a legend. Spirits, almost.

But Katsuki’s eyes locked onto one of them immediately.

Even with the fan covering their faces, he knew. His gaze found that familiar form like a moth drawn to light.

Izuku.

There was no mistaking him. Not in the way he moved, not in the way the firelight caught on his hair, or the way he tilted his head slightly before every step, like he was listening to the beat in his soul.

Katsuki felt his breath catch.

Damn it.

He wasn’t even doing anything yet, just walking. Still, he managed to pull all of Katsuki’s focus like a string tied to his ribs.

It was like everything else blurred out, fading into the rhythm of the drums and the way Izuku moved through the firelight like he belonged to it.

Katsuki barely noticed his own fists clenching where they rested on his knees.

Fuck…

The drums shifted, rising in tempo, deep and echoing. It was like the earth itself was speaking through them, humming in his bones.

The dancers spread around the fire in a wide circle, their palm fans rising in perfect unison, faces still hidden. Every movement was fluid, not just a performance, a prayer.

And then, he stepped forward.

The fans lowered, revealing a single dancer at the heart of the circle. The flames danced in his eyes as he stood there, still and striking.

Izuku.

Katsuki’s breath stilled in his chest.

He didn’t just dance. He moved like the fire itself had chosen him to tell its story. Every sweep of his arms, every turn of his hips, every flex of his body was poetry in motion. Like the wind swirling through the trees.

Around him, the other omegas danced in harmony, but Izuku was the center. The heart of it all. Like the moon commanding the tides.

And Katsuki couldn’t look away.

It made sense now. Why the tribe treated him like something more. He wasn’t just the healer or the chief’s son. He was theirs. Their spirit. Their soul.

And gods, Katsuki understood them, completely.

Izuku glowed under the firelight, the shadows sliding over the curves of his body like they worshiped him too. Every roll of his hips, every elegant sway of his arms, was smooth, practiced, and deadly.

Katsuki swallowed thickly, his jaw tense.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had seen ritual dances before. Tribal shit. His tribe did this type of stuff too. He’d even joined in some, when he was younger and threatened by his dam to do so. And yet, it had never been like this. Never made his skin burn from just watching.

He shifted in his place. His skin prickled, heat crawling up the back of his neck and down his spine. Fuck, his hands were sweating now. Fists clenched tight against the pull of want. He couldn’t tear his eyes off Izuku.

Why the fuck does he move like that? Does he know what he’s doing to me?

Katsuki’s breath hitched, caught somewhere in his throat as he watched Izuku sway across the flames.

Those hips. Those fucking hips, wide and made for gripping, for anchoring himself when he—

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose.

Izuku moved like the fire belonged to him. Like he was the offering, not the dance.

And his lips. Those lips. Moving in sync with the others, murmuring some old tongue Katsuki had yet to learn. The worlds curled through the air like smoke, low and reverent.

It only made him harder.

He could hear the song, sure, but all he could see was that mouth. Red and plush and parted with every breath, glistening in the firelight, drawing him in like a goddamn curse.

Bet those lips would feel good wrapped around—

He cut the thought off with a growl.

His fangs ached. His scent was thickening, heating up, curling around his spine. And he knew that if he kept staring, he’d lose all sense of control.

He could almost feel what it would be like. That soft, pliant body beneath him, those strong thighs gripping his waist, those perfect lips gasping his name. He’d bare his throat, wouldn’t he? Let Katsuki sink his teeth in. Let him claim him, mark that delicate scent gland until he smelled like his.

Pupped. That’s what he’d be. Rutted full, ruined for anybody else, and glowing from the inside out.

Katsuki’s hands twitched on his lap. His mouth was dry, and his cock throbbed in his pants, straining against the fabric.

He was so far gone he didn’t even notice Kirishima watching him until an elbow jabbed into his ribs.

“Dude,” Kirishima hissed quietly. “You need to calm down. You’re gonna get us thrown out if anybody catches to your aroused scent.”

Katsuki blinked.

He looked away, closed his eyes, and inhaled sharply.

He had to calm himself down. Not just for the possibility of angering the tribe’s people, but also because he didn’t want to seem like a knothead in front of his intended.

He needed to—

Huh?

What was—

His eyes snapped open.

That sound, it was louder, it didn’t sound like it belonged to the previous joyful beat of the drums.

A horn.

Low and mournful, like something or someone was dying slowly inside it. It raised the hair on the back of his neck.

Everything stopped.

The drums fell silent. The omegas stood frozen mid-step, fans lowering slowly. Their faces held no emotion. None of their faces did, not a single person in the village looked joyful anymore.

In unison, all of the villagers’ eyes flicked towards where the sound of the horn came from.

Then.

The villager moved with eerie purpose. The five barbarians felt a sense of Déjà vu. Like the time that hunter Nomu had attacked. But this time, the air around the village felt more suffocating.

They stood up and watched.

Watched as some villagers scooped the pups up and took them somewhere, somewhere safe, he assumes. They watched as masks and spears appeared, from the three hollows, from covered baskets, near huts, all around

Something was coming.

“You feel that?” Kirishima stepped closer to him.

“Yeah.” Katsuki’s jaw clenched. “Something’s wrong.”

The horn cried again, louder this time, closer, even.

As the crowd moved around them, they saw Iida appear from among them, approaching them along with Momo and Shinsou. All three of them were already wearing their masks. Shinsou’s was shaped like a wild cat, its teeth bared. His voice was steady when he spoke, but his eyes betrayed tension.

“A commander approaches,” he said. He felt himself and his friends all tense at that. “And a commander never comes alone.”

“I know you five are still healing,” Iida said, in his hand a bag with different types of weapons. “But I ask— no, I plead with you, to please help us in this battle.” He finished, bowing his head as he offered the bag.

Katsuki didn’t even think twice. Actually, his mind was already made up even before they asked.

He snatched the bag from Iida’s hands and yanked it open, finger closing around the familiar hilt of his sword. The same blade he’d used the day of the forest attack.

He tossed the bag toward Sero without looking.

Said beta caught it mid-air, already pulling out Denki’s daggers and his own crossbow. Behind them, Kirishima and Mina shifted without a word, fangs bared, claws gleaming in the flickering firelight. Their eyes had that feral glow, muscles coiled and ready.

Katsuki turned, fire sparking low in his chest.

“Funny of you to think we’d just sit back and watch, glasses,” he growled while eyeing Iida with a sharp grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

Iida didn’t even flinch. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Around them, the village moved with purpose. But one person, one omega, hadn’t moved from his place. Katsuki approached Izuku, the omega had already put his mask on, and someone had given him his spear.

As Katsuki approached him, he heard him mutter under his breath.

“They’re coming.”

Katsuki frowned but said nothing. He simply tightened his grip on the sword and turned his eyes towards the entrance of the village.

Let them come.

Katsuki will make them bleed.

Chapter Text

Smoke and blood.

That was all they could smell now.

Thick, choking plumes of smoke rolled through the village. The scent of burning wood mixed with something else, something metallic, coppery. Blood, too much of it. Izuku couldn’t tell if the blood belonged to a dead Nomu or a villager. Maybe both. It clung to everything, soaked into the dirt, splattered across the stone and skin.

The town was painted red. Not a vibrant red meant for celebration, but the heavy, wet red that only brought sorrow. The red of lives torn apart. Of losses that hadn’t been counted yet.

They hadn’t expected this.

Not something to this level.

The commander hadn’t even entered the camp yet, and they were already struggling.

The Nomus kept coming in waves. Bigger than the previous ones. Hunters and brutes are somehow coordinating—probably because of the commander. They were tearing the place. No matter how many of them they took down, more appeared.

Izuku gritted his teeth, stabbing his spear into another Nomu taking it down instantly. It shrieked as it fell, blood spraying across Izuku’s mask.

He barely had time to breathe before he had to move again.

There was no stopping them, they kept coming.

Izuku needed time, just a moment. To breathe, to think, to focus. But the damn battlefield offered no such mercy.

Screams echoed around him, the clash of metal and bone, the hiss of flame, the growl of beasts, it was all too much. His lungs burned. His head pounded. Blood—someone else’s or his own—ran warm down the side of his neck.

There had to be a way to stop this. There had to be.

Come on Izuku, think!

How do you stop a horde of Nomus, Nomus that are faster and smarter than the ones you’d fought before. They moved with direction, precision. This didn’t feel like the usual random chaos, they were coordinated. They weren’t just attacking, they were executing orders.

Orders from the commander!

His eyes widened and his breath stuttered.

That was it.

The commander.

That had to be it. The only reason the Nomus were this well coordinated was because they were following the orders from the commander. That thing is controlling them, he knew what he had to do.

He had to cut the brain.

Take down the commander and the rest will fall with it.

Izuku needed to get to the commander.

It was closer now but not quite there yet. If Izuku wanted to intercept it, he’d have to carve his way through a battlefield thick with chaos. Nomus and villagers clashing in a frenzy of blood and fury.

His eyes darted, looking for an opening, a path, anything.

But then—

A snarl. A flash of movement behind him caught his eye.

Another Nomu lunged at him from behind. Izuku had gotten so lost in thought that his body lagged behind his instincts. He barely had time to turn around.

Boom.

The monster was obliterated, blasted back in a storm of heat and smoke.

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat.

“Kacchan!” he shouted, recognizing the familiar caramel smell of the alpha before even seeing the blonde alpha standing just a few spaces away from him.

Izuku’s heart skipped, but there was no time for that.

This could work.

He turned fully to face him, green eyes sharpening like a blade, a sudden calm washing over his expression amidst the chaos.

“I need your help,” Izuku said, voice firm. There was no stutter, no hesitation.

Katsuki blinked.

Then, a grin, a big feral grin, spread across his face.

“Order away, freckles.”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

The second Izuku gave the order, Katsuki set himself into motion.

He didn’t need a plan, he needed a direction. And right now, that direction was wherever the fuck the omega pointed to.

He surged forward, palms already popping with violent promise, blasting the first Nomu clean out of their path. It hit a crumbling hut with a crack, the structure folding in on itself like it was nothing but sticks and ash.

Izuku was at his side instantly, steps light, a blur of precision. While Katsuki cleared the bulk, the omega would strike down any stragglers. His spear targeting joints, tendons, and exposed brains with precision. A twist of his spear, a flick of his wrist, and brutes twice his size dropped like broken dolls.

It was ridiculous.

It was beautiful.

They didn’t need to speak in order to work together. You'd think they've been fighting together for years.

When Katsuki blew apart a group, Izuku was already moving to the next angle. When Izuku pivoted and ducked, Katsuki covered him without thinking. It was like a well-rehearsed dance.

It was their first time fighting together, but it was like they were destined to fight side by side.

A Nomu brute lunged from the left, Katsuki blasted it back before it even let out a growl. Izuku didn’t pause, just sprinted past the smoking carcass like he’d known the explosion was coming.

They weaved through the blood-soaked village like twin wolves in a hunt. One scorched everything in his path, the other slipped through with quite precision. Fire and wind, different forces in the same storm.

Then they saw it.

They both came to a stop, chests heaving, Katsuki’s palm twitching with leftover charge. 

The trees at the edge of the forest bent back as something massive stepped into view.

The Commander.

It towered over the battlefield like some ancient beast carved out of a nightmare. Its limbs were long and armored, mottled with bone-like plating and muscle so thick it looked like earth had formed around it. Its eyes—if you could even call them that—glowed with a sick yellow light. His hands were gnarly-looking with claws longer than Katsuki’s sword.

Fuck.

“That’s the Commander?” Katsuki asked, his breath hitching with disbelief.

Izuku’s expression didn’t change, he just held his spear tighter. “Yes, that’s our target.”

Katsuki let out a short, breathless laugh.

“You sure don’t ask for easy things, freckles.” He shook out his arms, sparks lighting up on his palms once again. “But fuck it, let's bring this bastard down.”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Izuku’s heart pounded, not from fear, but from calculation.

He knew the commanders weren’t like the brutes or the hunters. They weren’t just stronger, they were smarter and more developed.

And yes, they had a weakness.

Their heart.

It was there, always there, pulsing so violently that it made the thick skin around it twitching with every beat, like a ripple under taut fabric. Izuku had studied it. Dissected a Nomu carcass they found once in the woods. He knew how to find it.

The problem?

These bastards moved it.

Not in a metaphorical sense. They literally shifted the organ around inside their bodies. It wasn’t a mindless relocation either, it was intentional, tactical. The second your weapon aimed for it, the Nomu would pull it somewhere else. By the time your blade or spear pierced through the flesh, the heart was gone and all you would have accomplished is angering the creature.

Izuku narrowed his eyes, watching the slight bulge that beat in the Nomu’s upper chest.

Maybe, if one of them kept it distracted, it wouldn’t see the other attacking and would not have time to change the position of the organ.

“Kacchan!” he barked, not taking his eyes off the creature. “Keep him busy, I need you to distract it.”

The only answer he got was the crack of an explosion and Kacchan’s growl as he launched himself forward, palms detonating mid-air.

The commander reacted, just as Izuku hoped it would. A roar ripped from its throat as it swung those monstrous claws toward the oncoming alpha. Kacchan dodged, blasted upward, and struck again, trying to keep the Nomu’s gaze locked on him.

Izuku ran.

He moved fast, staying on the edge of the chaos. His eyes never left the place where the heart pulsed, on the Nomu’s upper chest. It hadn’t shifted yet since the blonde alpha was not aiming for it at any point. He could get to it, he totally could.

He leapt, spear in hand, and aimed straight for it.

But just before the tip met flesh…

Shift.

A massive arm swung, catching Izuku mid-air and slamming him into the ground with a thunderous crack. The pain was sharp, blooming in his ribs and shoulder.

Before he could even roll away, he saw the Nomu bring his arm down again, only to be blasted away by Kacchan.

Another explosion, this one louder, desperate, furious, knocked the commander back just long enough for Izuku to scramble up to his feet.

“You good?’ Kacchan shouted without looking back, blasting at the Nomu’s knees, or what they assumed were knees.

“I’m fine!” Izuku coughed, wiping blood from his mouth. “He’s too fast. He is going to keep shifting his heart every time I aim.! He is not distracted enough!”

“So, what now?!” Kacchan shouted back.

Izuku’s eyes darted around, scanning the wreckage of the village and the battlefield behind them. Bodies. Fire. Smoke. The villagers who were still standing fighting desperately. It wasn’t looking good.

Then—

“Midoriya!”

“Bakugo!”

Sero, Denki, Kirishima and Mina came sprinting toward them, Iida and Ochako not far behind. All of them were bruised, having fought their way through hell to reach them.

“You guys okay?!” Kirishima called out, breathing hard.

“We’re fucking fine,” Katsuki called back. “But this bastard hits like a goddamn boulder.”

Izuku’s mind was already racing. His eyes snapped from one person to the next, then back at the commander.

And suddenly, it hit him.

“Let’s hit him all at once!” he shouted out of a sudden.

Everyone looked at him, confused on what he meant.

“If we attack all at the same time,” he said quickly. “It will give me a better chance to strike as long as it’s distracted with all of you attacking him. If we time it right it won’t have the time to shift its heart in time!”

“You want us to overwhelm it?” Ochako asked already gripping her spear. “We blind it by being in constant movement.” Iida muttered beside her.

“Exactly,” Izuku said. “It will prioritize the biggest threats. So Bakugo, Kirishima, and Mina should attack them using their powers. The rest of you keep circling it, attack all of his angles but never the same place twice.”

“And then what?!” Sero asked, his bow ready to be used.

Izuku’s grip on his spear tightened, his eyes behind the mask tightening.

“Then I will go for the heart.”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

It started with an explosion.

Katsuki launched himself forward, palms detonating against the commander’s face, forcing the beast to jerk back with a deafening snarl. The blast rocked its balance just enough for Kirishima to take advantage.

The red scaled dragon-shifter charged in, body half shifted, his scales glowing faintly as he slammed a brutal punch into his side, the impact making the ground shake.

Kirishima’s strike cracked bone. From the other side, Mina, sliding herself around with her acid, slid low, her claws slicing across the tendons of the Nomu’s ankle causing it to falter with a pained groan.

“Let’s go!” Sero shouted, ducking past a flailing limb and throwing a weighted net made from local fibers, aiming for the beast’s legs. The moment the net hit, Denki followed with a torch-tipped spear, setting the edge ablaze and forcing the Nomu to step back into the fire.

It shrieked and thrashed around, but that just gave Iida and Ochako an opening. Momo hurled a carved javelin forward, which Iida caught mid-dash, using his enhanced training from the savages to drive it directly into the Nomu’s shoulder with terrifying precision.

“Va’nah!” they muttered to each other as they clashed their spears.

The commander roared, body twisting with rage and pain.

Izuku was already moving.

He dashed low, tracking the faint pulsing beneath the skin near its abdomen, a sign of where the Nomu's heart was at the moment.

“Kacchan!” he shouted without a specific command.

Bakugo didn’t wait for instructions. He leapt behind the Nomu again, detonating an explosion across the base of its skull to force its attention away. The beast screamed and swiped wildly, spinning to face the alpha.

“YEAH! FUCKING LOOK AT ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” Katsuki bellowed, throwing another blast at its ribs.

From the trees, Mina pounced again, this time mid-shift. Her wings flaring as she spun and raked her acid-covered claws across the beast’s back.

Sero caught her mid-drop and pulled her to safety. Kirishima barreled back in, shoulder-checking the monster as Izuku lunged for the heart again.

It’s now or never.

The pulsing heart was near the Nomu's lower abdomen now, pulsing visibly.

He dashed forward, dodging debris, slipping past blood and fire. His grip on the spear tightened.

He leapt.

And he struck.

Steel met flesh.

The tip of the spear pierced the heart.

The Nomu shrieked out of pain. Its limbs spasmed violently as it dropped to its knees, red slipping down its body like a broken dam.

But Izuku was too distracted to realize in time that the commander’s claws were already coming down for him.

He had no time to dodge.

The beast’s massive hand smashed into him, sending him flying like a ragdoll. His back slammed into a broken tree trunk, wood splintering upon impact.

“IZUKU!” he heard his friends scream.

The Nomu collapsed fully with a thunderous crash, the earth shaking beneath its bulk. A moment of stunned silence followed.

“We did it…” Kirishima murmured.

Everyone smiled for a second before remembering the freckled omega.

Izuku was on the ground, blood staining the ground beneath him, chest heaving, lips parted but no words coming out.

Katsuki was the first to reach him, dropping to his knees with a snarl. “Shit- Izuku, hey!”

“I…” Izuku coughed, blood trickling down his chin. “Did I get it…?”

“You idiot,” Katsuki said through gritted teeth, grabbing the omega’s arm to haul him up. “You absolute fucking idiot.”

The rest of their friends circled around them. Iida went running back to the camp, yelling something about calling Inko or Momo. Sero tore his cloak to press it to Izuku’s wound.

“Hold on, Mido.” Mina whispered, voice shaky. “Don’t strain yourself, please.”

Izuku managed a weak smile.

“Noted,” his eyes went back to the fallen Nomu. “Worth it…”

He mumbled as he slipped unconscious, only being able to hear the others voices as they called his name and the feeling of strong arms catching him before he hit the ground.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

The next day, the air still felt heavy.

Not with smoke, but with something heavier, something harder to scrub off.

Sorrow.

You could still hear the villagers outside. Hammers tapping, wood being cut, stoned moved back into place. Their town had been cracked open and left bleeding, and they were already working on stitching it back together. Masks still on their faces, solemn things that hid their grief but not their exhaustion.

This wasn’t the first time they had gone through something like this, it seemed almost as if they were well rehearsed on this routine.

And that was what made the five barbarian’s chests feel like someone had taken a war hammer to it.

He sat in a worn chair inside the Midoriya’s hut. The place where Izuku and his family lived. The place where he kept his herbs and books tucked into corners of his own room. It was the softest place Katsuki had been to in weeks, and yet it felt cold now.

Izuku lay on his bed, his chest rising and falling in slow, deep breaths. Ponytail had put some herbal medicine on his burns, but he had yet to wake up.

Katsuki hadn’t looked away from him.

Not once.

The others were scattered around the room, slumped into silence. Mina curled up by the wall, arms around her legs. Kirishima sat cross-legged near the door, staring at the floor. Momo, hands still stained from treating others, had finally drifted into a shallow sleep against a pile of rolled mats. Even Denki had been quiet since they got back.

The fight had only been hours ago, but it hung over them like it had happened minutes ago. It was still there, in every twitch of muscle, every quiet breath, every bruise. A ghost they couldn’t shake.

“I went to the pups today…” Denki’s voice was soft. Dry.

Katsuki blinked, turning his head slightly, not enough to take his eyes off Izuku. Just enough to listen.

“I went to look for Sato-san… the one that watches them,” Denki went on. “Wanted to see if he needed help.”

He swallowed, jaw working.

“But he wasn’t there. Someone else was. Said Sato-san didn’t make it yesterday…”

Silence again.

It wasn’t like they didn’t know how to mourn. They were warriors. Barbarians. They weren’t new to losing people.

But this was different.

“You know,” Denki said after a long moment, eyes drifting back to the window, “I thought the pups would be destroyed hearing the news.”  He exhaled, “But they weren’t. They were sad, but not surprised. Like this is something they are already used to.”

A long pause. Just the wind brushing against the walls, then nothing.

This place. These people. They were surviving, sure, but they were not living. They are just on stand by for the next battle, the next blood-shed to happen. The next array of bodies to bury.

He looked at Izuku again, pale and still unconscious.

There is no way for Katsuki to turn back time and save everybody. But he can prevent it from happening again.

He reached out, brushing a piece of dried blood off Izuku’s cheek with a knuckle.

“You better wake up soon, Izuku,” he muttered under his breath. “Because we’ve got places to go.”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

“I’ll say,” Toshinori’s powerful voice was heard loudly throughout the room. “It came as a surprise to me that you’d request a meeting with us, young Bakugo.”

Katsuki stood before the council with conceited purpose. Flanked by Kirishima on his right side and Sero on his left. The three had requested for a meeting with the council and now stood in front of them, a reminder of when they had meet them to ask for a chance to stay.

Then Bakugo moved.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, past his companions, until he stood just feet away from them, and then dropped to a knee.

The entire gathering tensed.

A barbarian prince kneeling before a bunch of savages.

Bowing.

Not as a sign of submission, but one that looked for mutual respect.

“I come to you with an idea,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “If you’re willing to listen.”

Toshinori exchanged a glance with Inko, who gave a slight nod.

The chief stepped forward, his shadow stretching long behind him.

“Speak, young Bakugo.”

Katsuki stood, not bothering to dust the ash and dirt that clung to his pants.

“I’ve seen it in your eyes. You’ve lost too many already. Your healers can’t keep up. Your walls aren’t walls, they’re sticks and prayers. And those things—those monsters—they’re not done. They’re not gonna stop.” He let that sink in. “Not for you. Not for us. Not for anyone.”

Toshinori’s expression darkened, jaw clenched tight.

Katsuki went on. “Is this land cursed? Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But I know that if you stay here, you won’t survive the next attack.”

The weight of the words crashed over the gathering like a tidal wave.

“But if you come with us, if you move north to our territory, you won’t have to fight alone anymore. We’ve got warriors. Fortresses. Trenches. We’ve been building for generations. You bring your people, and we’ll protect them.”

That earned some murmurs from the council members along with uncertain looks.

Kirishima stepped forward, eyes proud as if backing up every word his pack leader said.

Sero crossed his arms, lips pressed into a firm line with agreement.

“But I’m not here to offer charity,” Katsuki added, voice growing sharper. “You’ve got something we don’t. You know how to fight these things up close. You know what they are, how they think, how to track them, kill them, burn their fucking corpses before they regenerate.”

“You’ve been fighting a war we didn’t even know had already started.”

He paused.

“Teach us.”

The fire cracked again.

A beat.

“Teach us what you know. In exchange for our strength, our numbers. We survive together,” Katsuki finished, “or we all fall alone.”

No one spoke.

Even the wind held its breath.

For the first time, the council members looked at the barbarian not as a brute, not as a boy with fire in his palms and rage in his chest, but as a leader.

A warrior who wanted peace, not because he feared war, but because he understood its cost.

Toshinori said nothing for a long while. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture unreadable. Then his eyes drifted past Katsuki to the distant hut where Izuku lay unconscious and bandaged, still breathing by sheer stubbornness.

He looked back at the young man who had helped save them all.

And finally, he exhaled. A long, deep sigh that seemed to come from the earth itself.

“I will discuss this with the council,” he said, lifting his hand, commanding silence as more whispers rose behind him.
“We shall decide by morning.”

Katsuki gave a single nod and stepped back.

His chest ached. His legs trembled slightly from exhaustion.

But he had said what needed to be said.

Now… it was up to them.