Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Half N Half Seams, Shouto Todoroki’s shop in the bustling town of Market Chipping. He wouldn’t say the town is the biggest, not the bustling-est; but it’s home and he has loyal customers that water down the cons of living in such a town. 

With the brink of war upon Ingary, not much has changed for Shouto, and he can tell not much has changed for anyone else on the outside in their town. People rather just pretend like everything and everyone will be okay, that our side will win without a doubt. It’s not fully that they know war will come, but the kingdoms have been tense as of late. 

Or perhaps that the war will never come, that it won’t affect simple city folk like it will the hundreds of drafted young boys, much like himself, who leave on battleships to never return. 

The last war that happened in Shouto’s lifetime he was only a boy, sitting in his late mothers lap and listening to stories of witches and wizards and the magic they bring, magic that would end the war before it reached their little town. 

Now he’s alone, running his shop with a step-mother and a father who breathes down his neck occasionally when he tells his royal court friends about his pathetic son who took over his mothers sew shop. Like coming to intimidate him every so often was going to make him quit the business or something. 

He sighs deeply, gently plucking the sewn strawberry pincushion with his needle and leaning back to admire his work. 

The deep navy blue dress shirt stares back at him, wrinkling in a way that makes Shouto’s brow raise as if to say, ‘are you expecting me to praise you?’ Maybe, what’s wrong with wishing his work could give feedback? 

Is your back too narrow? Will the shoulders fit on the average young man? If they don’t fit what way do you suggest slimming it in order to make it fit a lady? 

He’s been doing this long enough right in front of his beautiful back shop window with even more beautiful Rindous blooming in the flower box that he barely even notices the ground shaking from the train in front. 

It zips by and rattles the glass, but Shouto’s already picked up his needle again and gotten to work adding gemstones. 

Unlike his father, who hypocritically wears jeweled uniforms in his courts, Shouto quite appreciates the sparkling beauty of stones on clothes. Expertly sewn to make any gender's clothing look magnificent. The small and large stones evolve a piece into something totally new and unique. Especially for unsightly people like him, a sparkling stone can take the eyes from his face to his chest, or his waist. 

“Men do not wear clothes like that! They do not sit away all day and sew like their mothers, and their wives and sisters do - you are not a woman, SHOUTO!”  

His father would bellow his dissatisfaction if he was here. Likely he would rip at Shouto’s hard work and throw out his gemstones. All whilst Shouto stared bitterly at the aristocrats chest full of military stones. 

But he is not here, not in Shouto’s little shop, free of the other apprentices his stepmother keeps around. He’s really the only one to get anything done, besides blowing money on shopping trips with Nemuri. 

Who is a great woman, conciliatory and beautiful. She’s cared for Shouto and Fuyumi for as long as she’s known them, always bringing gifts when she travelled and offering bountiful advice to Shouto in particular. 

Both of them sharing the same craft, the same talent led to plenty of kinship between the two of them specifically. Though even through all the years of working under the wonderful seamstress, his stepmother, he’s never quite felt at home amongst the hustle and bustle. 

There’s just nothing keeping him here besides the inherent duty he feels to take over the shop. Fuyumi has grown her bakery to be the most successful in Market Chipping, Natsuo and Touya have moved thousands of miles away, to cities in Ingary he’ll never hope to even see. 

It’s just the two of them left here, and therefore it is just Shouto. He won’t ask Fuyumi, who has gained approval from their father, to take over their mothers shop just because he wants to explore what else the world has to offer. Just because he wishes to be somewhere else, seeing the mountains, the Royal Capital. 

No. He will stay here, plucking pins from the cushion. Attaching gemstones for nobles and average folk to wear, and maybe he’ll live vicariously through them. His heartfelt creations will see more than he will; they’ll see beyond these four walls of his workroom. 

The sound of chatter drags him out of another work induced haze, some apprentice probably found another young lad to fan over. Or maybe they were gifted something, asked on a date? Shouto doesn’t know what it is this time, but last time, which was only yesterday evening, the occasion was finding a lovely fabric that ‘lady Nemuri will love!’ The only thing the girls had contributed to the actual sewing part of the sew shop in weeks. 

As aforementioned, he’s the only one who actually works on that part. Not that he necessarily minds.

“Shouto! I’m back! Shouto!” The familiar voice of Nemuri cuts through like a pinprick. She must’ve come in through the shop, that’s why the girls suddenly started screaming. 

Three taps on his door, then she pushes it open and Shouto is greeted by her long navy hair cascading over a bright coral dress. His eyes instantly find the chest and he couldn’t stop himself from admiring the handiwork from afar. Gemstones, just like he loves, they curl and swirl all around the breasts, punctuating her rather large set and emboldening the ruffles of the dresses sleeves. His own handiwork. 

“Hello, how was your trip?” Shouto attempts his best smile. Shifting in his high waisted pants, it shifts the maroon shirt he has tucked in uncomfortably. She must notice his discomfort, in general, and responds quickly, dropping a bag of something beside his door and offering an easy going smile.

It’s so natural to her, so easily plastered across her fair face, he’s jealous instantly. 

“I’m taking the girls shopping, Shinsou doesn’t want to go, but I thought I’d ask you?” Shinsou, the only other boy apprentice in the shop, though Shouto himself is eighteen, of age, Shinsou is still only seventeen. 

He is an orphan, taken in by Nemuri and raised together with Shouto and Fuyumi. Much like the brother Shouto never got to know. 

He hums, tugging at his work in progress, “I should finish this, thank you for the invite though, I appreciate it.” Nemuri nods like she expected the answer and shuts the door with a light and cheery ‘goodbye!’ 

“Woah! Oh my gosh! Girls, look!,” Mina, if Shouto judges correctly, yells from the main room. “It’s Katsuki’s castle!!” The group of girls start squealing again, footsteps rushing towards what Shouto presumed is the far and large window overlooking the Wastes just as his own does. 

The mention draws his own mismatched eyes to gaze out into the fog. A small figure zigzags in and out of the moving fog. From Shouto’s window its small, but big enough even then for him to know up close it would dwarf even the size of most buildings. 

“It’s Katsuki! Wizard Katsuki!” 

Eventually they give up, when the said castle retreats into the Wastes once more. 

As the sounds of his peers and his stepmother fade out, Shouto turns back to his work with another sigh and scowls. Untucking his shirt and tucking it again. Glancing around his workroom he notes a number of eye-catching projects and orders. A ball gown he’s been working on for the better half of a month, a pile of hats beside him that call for salvation. 

A corkboard of other orders he hasn’t even looked at yet. And smack dab in the middle is a tinted yellow piece of paper. A coupon for Fuyumi’s bakery. 

His legs are sore and itch for movement after having sat for hours on end, so he decided curtly that he’ll visit Fuyumi, use the coupon and feed himself after not having eaten since yesterday's light breakfast. Shouto has always had a bad habit of forgetting things like that, always so caught up in perfecting his work. Sometimes it’s bad, he’ll forget to even bathe until Nemuri or Shinsou visit his cave and wrinkle their noses. 

Dinner never happens, and he’s usually busy during lunchtimes, so breakfast is his only source of energy. 

Thinking of it now, as he pulls on his gemmed boots, he also hates spending more time than necessary on breakfast, always eager to get to work for the day; so breakfast is also a small affair. 

He takes the shop exit, or entrance, checking up on the flowers he has sitting out, giving extra water to the vases that are running low. Shuffling back and forth between shop and kitchen, trimming them, then decides he can’t stall much longer. 

The shop is covered head to toe in hung clothes, shoes displayed in artistic expressions, thanks to Shinsou. The most creative mind in the coalition, and the only shoemaker they have. His soul brother has always been slightly like him, against societal standards, and norms. 

Shoemaking is less frowned upon then Shouto’s preferred passion, straight up sewing. If asking his father anything less than high and noble mingling each day with generals from around Ingary is a disgrace of a man. 

He understands where his father is coming from, but without a clue on how he ended up at ‘aristocrat or disgrace’ it’s difficult to see how, or why, he married Nemuri who sees no issue and even encourages both his and Shinsou’s work. 

It’s not a secret that Shouto doesn’t aim for a wife, so what’s the issue in spending his days earning keep with the one thing his mother may have loved more than him and Fuyumi? 

Shouto tears his gaze from the shoes and catches his figure moving in the tripled mirror on the shop wall. His shirt is incorrectly tucked back into his pants, and his braid has fallen out. The heavy necklace is still perfectly in place though, he reaches a hand up gently to caress the stone. And- there’s also something else wrapped around his neck. 

Without realizing it he’d accidentally kept a measuring line around him when he left. 

He looks quite a mess, not suited to venture out in the public eye. Contrary to popular belief it is quite hard not to focus on his albeit sporadic public image when one has nothing to do but worry about such trivial things and sew clothes. 

So he spends, again, far too long fixing his shirt, throwing on a random cardigan he’s sure is a ladies and rebraiding his hair. He has half a mind to leave the measuring line just in case, what if a potential customer recognizes him and he needs to take immediate measurements? 

…After not long at all thinking over these said possibilities, Shouto keeps the line in his pocket and dusts himself off one last time before leaving the shop. 

Market Chipping greats him with a smack to the face in bustle. Again, as aforementioned, he does not appreciate the ‘hustle and bustle’ of his little town. 

He steps down the stone steps, using the intricate metal railing to assist the steep slope. And he’s crossing to the trolley bus before he can get run over by a car in the busy streets. The people of Market Chipping are celebrating yet another parade celebrating who knows what. 

And he doesn’t want to know what, he just wants to see his sister and work on that irritating shirt fitted to either himself or some lad. Maybe Shinsou would wear it for him, he’d hate to waste the perfectly good material because he’s insecure about the fit. 

“Young man, would you like my spot?” A clean shaved older gentleman who’s also squeezing himself into the overfilled trolley-bus speaks up. He’s glaring down at Shouto with a look that speaks volumes, it’s clear if Shouto was wearing a dress he’d hit on him like a rabid animal; demanding the young lady do as he wishes. 

Just because of his long hair and otherwise pretty face, if he were to get Shouto alone no one would bat an eye, just two men together. If he were a woman, it would be a scandal. 

Shouto turns his face and pettily grins, “No thank you, that's very kind though.” The action reveals his scar, and Shouto relishes in watching in real time as the man’s mirroring sly grin evolves into a disgusted grimace. He leaves him alone after that. 

He decides to take the back streets, avoiding crowds and nearly covering his ears when even the alleys take him too close to the screaming and cheering. He can only hope he’s close, eyes shifting down at the coupon held in his hands he reads the address again, and the little note Fuyumi had written in terms of where to enter. 

A left here, a right there… “Oomph-!” 

Shouto’s face collided with something solid but soft. When he stepped back and glanced up, he saw the familiar red and blue of the soldier's uniform. A man with yet another sly grin licks his lips looking down at him. 

“S-sorry,” then, he goes to step around the soldier and is frightened by another one stepping in his way from behind the other one. Where are they coming from? This town doesn’t even normally have soldiers standing guard.

“Why hello there, what’s a pretty thing like you doing taking these alleys?” He says it like Shouto's a fragile little thing. Like he’s useless and good for nothing and it makes Shouto blood boil. Diplomatic men always belittling others and for what!?

“Hey, wait, this little lady… You’re a boy aren’t ya?” The second soldier quips, mustache curled obnoxiously and his thick upper lip revealing with his snarl. 

He looks… predatory even with disdain clearly painted on his face. 

“So what? And see what I told you, that mustache scares ‘em all.” 

“So what, he’s a boy and I think he’s much cuter frightened.” 

Shouto’s just about to bolt, nerves wired and successfully on edge, when a gust of wind picks up his bangs very nearly concealing the arm that wraps around his shoulder then slides down to his waist. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you, princess.” Shouto’s skin shivers, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he tries to suppress another. But then suddenly a body presses up against him in a way no one has ever touched him, and it’s quite alarming! And the voice, deep and gruff, yet eloquent and mature, like it's spoken for many many years but never quite lost a certain boyish charm. 

He’s barely even registered the words before the soldiers start protesting. “Hey! We’re busy he—” 

“Really? Looked to me like you extras were just leaving?” The hand on his waist flicks up, swirling, and with it the soldiers step into line, about face, and walk off down the alley. 

Then the hand drops to his side once again, like it belonged there. 

“You alright, princess? Those fuckers didn’t touch you, did they?” Shouto’s attention is suddenly dragged to the side and up as he cranes his neck and sees the most handsome man he’s ever seen in his life bearing a soft grin directed towards him. 

Shouto’s knees immediately grow weak. 

As a result he nearly buckles and his hands still clutched to his chest fly to hold onto something sturdy. Which so happens to be the mysterious man’s awaiting hand, they hold him up comfortably, a smooth and large hand curling around his own like he’s something fragile. 

But unlike the soldiers, or even his father, something about this handsome man tells Shouto that he’s not mocking him as he carefully nudges Shouto back to his feet himself. 

It’s, somehow… Genuinely just care. 

“Careful.” The voice echoes in Shouto’s head, in one ear and out the other like it pierces him through. 

Snapping back to himself, Shouto tenses his knees and starts walking with the man. Arms still wrapped around his waist and palm like a true gentleman would. Shouto’s breathless, he must not realize he’s a man! 

“W-wha—”

“Where are we headed? I’ll be taking you there personally.” Even without Shouto’s answer they continue walking, quickly, even. Then the man leans down to his ear and whispers, “Don’t be scared, but I’m being followed,” then, right as Shouto goes to tense up and glance around, the man adds, “Act natural.” 

And who is he to say no? There’s absolutely no way he could do anything against what this man tells him to do. Even if he knows he’ll soon find out Shouto is a man, not a woman he can live his fairytale dreams with. 

Wait- followed?! 

The mysterious gentleman leads him down the alley, still not pressing for an answer, but he walks and guides both of them like he’s done it a million times before. Like a local. 

“M-my sister's bakery… I… I’m going to visit her.” Shouto squeaks out finally. Mysterious man only nods, glancing back up from where he’d lowered his ruby red gaze to meet Shouto’s. 

It gives him an opportunity to marvel at the man’s features. Smooth tan skin, spikey blonde hair that’s cut in just the right way to make him look older and well rounded, the irony, a jawline from down here that Shouto’s sure he could cut his fabric on, and curved lips sporting a lesser cupids bow than his but still prominent enough that Shouto’s tongue darts out to feel his own in a moment of curiosity. 

He very nearly stumbles when he sees the jewelry on the man. Both from the sight he loves to see and from his overall lack of paying attention to anything but ogling the man. What, it’s the least he can do for shocking Shouto like that! Good intentions or not! 

Mysterious man has multiple piercings with a range of colored gemstones hanging and studded in his ear. The design is so random Shouto’s certain the other ear has different gems, a different design. He’s not sure why he’s so confident in the assumption, but when he suddenly whips his head around to look behind them Shouto catches sight of a hanging stack and sees a red gem instead of the black hanging one on his right ear. 

Then he hears the sound of gushing behind him and hears low growls echoing in the small alley. And before he can even blink his companion is taking off! Running at a speed that practically has Shouto tripping with each step. They round corners and the man’s hands suddenly shift to completely around his waist, lifting him from the ground like he weighs nothing. 

“Hold on, princess!” Shouto doesn’t have time to hold on to anything, or process, since he was still enamored by the gems. But when he feels the waves of air and hears the urgency in mystery man’s voice he nearly shrieks as he's lifted into the- 

“Oh my God above-! What the hell!?” His feet start rapidly swinging—legs trying to reach solid ground but to no avail, somehow both him and mystery man are flying through the sky! It's magic! 

When Shouto’s body realizes this his legs instinctively curl up to his chest, waist still held by the man and left hand now in the other's solid grasp. He tries his hardest to push himself into the man, subconsciously, his body probably thinks closeness with the thing making them fly will keep him safe but the man’s legs are walking through the air. 

He has no clue what to do! 

“Calm down, pretty boy, stretch your legs, and start walking.” He rumbles lowly, the arm around his waist shifting to hold his other hand, lifting his arms gently above his head. Urging his legs to stretch out and start the repetitive movements he’s already making.

The thought terrified Shouto, but it- also it excites him. The air flows through his braid, ruffling his shirt and making him shiver. But he can see above the buildings - above the markets. The hustle and bustle isn’t as intimidating now, even with him literally walking through the sky above it!  

It all feels magical! For a moment he genuinely feels like he could do anything, so he stretches his legs, all but forgets about the mysterious man holding his hands and guiding him through the air. Shouto frolics, step after step, watches the way his sparkly boots meet air and continue to carry him like he was on the stone. Ignores the people below, forgets about his sister and his shop and moves like there’s nothing holding him back. 

“There,” he hums, “yer a natural, Princess.” Thereupon he remembers he knows nothing of this man. But it’s too late by then, gentle strong hands twist and twirl him down onto a balcony. Softly his left foot taps the ground first then his right follows quickly. He looks up at the mystery man with a barely concealed smile. That was the most exciting moment of his life. 

“You did perfect. I’ll draw those fuckers off, but it wouldn’t hurt to stay inside for a while, yeah?” Standing in front of the man now he can see him in all his glory. Currently standing on the railing, with a hand still outstretched and touching Shouto’s still outstretched hand. His face has an older look to it, older than Shouto he must be. But a youthful glow, like a noble, a prince, a king. 

Someone who looks… wise, perhaps, or someone kind. Soft cheeks, rough yet gentle hands, and an outfit that carries so many shiny things that Shouto can only nod dumbly. Mumbling out an incoherent yeah, with bated breath. 

He’s absolutely stunning. This man cannot be real! 

A loose coat hangs over his broad shoulders, decorated in gemstones just like his ears. It’s colored in such a vast expanse of the palette! Oranges, greens, blacks yellows! Gemstones matching the fabric of various shapes and sizes delicately thread them into the cloth. Overtop a dark orange shirt he had no clue what the shape or design was… it almost looked like a Jerkin- but too soft, from the feel of it against his cheek when he pressed up against the man, it wasn’t leather… 

“Good boy.” Mysterious man purrs, voice tickling his ears, and frankly has something else twitching in interest. Shouto stands there shocked and mortified as the blonde drop dead gorgeous man jumps backwards off the railing towards the ground! 

Shouto’s stunned for a moment longer before he trips over himself to check the ground - making sure his newfound interest doesn’t bite it immediately after rescuing him from lurking creeps. But when Shouto leans over he sees nothing but busy couples and market vendors. His heart rate is healthier after a few moments, now leaning up against the wall of what he’s come to realize is the connecting building to the bakery. 

The man had gotten him here, dropped him off after taking him through the sky with some magic - the wizard. That man was a wizard, and Shouto only realized it after the fact. 

He spends the next few minutes in a haze, thinking of what just happened. And the possibilities, how… quite frankly how romantic that was. Was the stranger flirting with him? And why in Ingary was he calling Shouto ‘princess’? He didn’t know his name, or did he(?), but instead of calling him sir, or lad, he called him princess. 

The thought brought a blush to his face, he hid his mouth behind his hand instinctually to hide his shock but also the smile that formed. 

That was the most romantic moment in his life.

“Shouto! Oh my gosh, someone told me they saw you float onto the balcony?” He hears Fuyumi’s loud and sweet voice before he even sees her. The clatter of her work heels invades the common peace and overall quiet hum of him overlooking the market. He turns with a smile and sees his beautiful sister rushing towards him. She throws herself at Shouto with open arms and the beginnings of tears welling in her eyes. 

“Who on earth were you with? You must be careful Shouto, dangerous men lurk around these parts.” She leans back in the hug after he wraps his own arms around her to keep her from sliding and falling to the floor. 

“Nice to see you too, Fuyumi. And… I’m fine, he… saved me, actually. He must have been one of the good wizards.” His smile widens, remembering the way he wrapped his arm around his waist, the gentle soft touch, the kind encouraging words; ‘Princess.’ 

Fuyumi only gasps again, burrowing her makeup-filled face in his chest. 

“Oh, Shouto…” 

“I’m telling you once again, Fuyumi, he saved me. And even if he were Katsuki it wouldn’t have mattered.” They’re sitting in the storage room now, it’s back-to-back with the kitchen, where all the bakers work. Men and women alike, Shouto wishes his craft was like that. 

Fuyumi sits directly beside him, one hand on his left leg, she gently rubs comforting circles on it. And abruptly, Shouto is struck by the difference in soft gentleness between Fuyumi’s comforting hand and mystery man. 

“Why is that, Shouto?” She seems genuinely curious. 

But the answer is obvious, as the rumors go: “Katsuki only steals the hearts of pretty women. And as we know,” his hand, the one the wizard first held, reaches up to trace his scar. His eye closes ever so slightly from the burn. A constant reminder that his mother couldn’t take the relationship with his father. 

“I don’t fall into either of those categories; no matter how much the men of Market Chipping wish for it.” 

“Shouto,” Fuyumi’s hand stills, “No one in all of Ingary can deny your looks.” She says it with such confident and calm conviction he almost believes her. But he’s been spending the last thirteen years of his life thinking, knowing and dealing with the repercussions of being ugly. 

It will take more than one random unbelievably handsome and attractive man and his closest sibling before he acquiesces to their reassuring insistence. He’s seen the way his scar changes people’s interactions with him, he’s attempted to hide it behind loose hair, but he always looks stupid with half of his hair low enough on his face to cover it all. 

He just looks like he had a bad hair day, and on top of being a man and not a lady, he doesn’t have room to mess up having such long hair. 

But he loves his hair, another part of himself that he got from his mama. 

He loves to thread gems into it, flowers if he finds them on the outskirts of Market Chipping, and try new hairstyles he’s seen on passing women. Another plus was that his father hates it. 

“Okay, yeah.” He tries to placate her. 

She only sighs in response. “Shouto, I… I worry abo—” she stops when a baker pops into the room alerting the readiness of one of their pastries. She converses with the man clearly flirting with her and then waves him goodbye kindly. 

“Sorry! As I was saying,” 

Shouto just shakes his head, giving her a kind-tired smile and picking at his pants. 

“I’m okay Fuyumi. Really!” 

“I know you say that! But… you don’t have to, I’m sorry Shouto, but you know you don’t have to stay in that shop.” Shouto’s mood sours. She’s never understood, this is why he has to stay. 

“Fuyumi, I’m glad your business is so well off - and you’re sure to find a husband at the rate you’re going.” He waves dismissively at where the baker had popped in. And he knows how the shop looks when she’s at the front counter. 

But the shop was their mothers pride and joy, the place she spent all of her life. Ill for most of the days Shouto remembers, if not all of them. She only ever had the energy for sewing. And sometimes not even that. 

Shouto inherited a lot from her. From his long hair to his lithe body, there are reasons he’s always mistaken for a woman. He can’t blame most men, even some women comment on his hair with their usual chirpyness before they realize he carries different parts than them. 

“But the shop, it was important to mom, so I’ll stay behind and take care of it. I don't mind.” He adds like he’s not lying to himself every day. 

“Was.” Fuyumi whispers. 

Shouto cranes his neck, metaphorically tilting his ear in her direction. “What?” 

“Shouto the shop was important to mother. But she’s—” 

Shouto cuts her off again, “I’m glad I got to visit you, Fuyumi. I should be going now.” 

The look of hurt and guilt on his sister's face is unwelcome. She said it. None of his siblings understand, and that’s why he must stay at the shop. He won’t guilt trip Fuyumi into following a life she doesn’t want, she has dozens of suitors all lining up. Regulars who pay triple the price of pastries with hope of getting a foot in the door. 

He wants her to continue her life. 

Frankly, far away from his. They always clash, and she’s better off without being seen with the city’s weirdest lad. He sighs for the nth time today and stands from the floor crate. 

“Shouto…” She follows him out the back, grabbing his wrist as he goes to bow a goodbye. 

“I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy, Shouto. And I don’t think that means spending the rest of your life in a sew shop…” she leans forward and places a kiss on his cheek, caressing it lovingly. The action reminds him of his mothers careful touches. 

“Thank you.” Is all he says back. Market Chipping welcomes him back once he returns to the main roads. 

He enjoys the quiet welcome of his shop more; no surprises there. In the late night the city is simply quiet. Streetlights lighting the normally busy streets with a golden glow. Shops closed and locked up, much like he does to his. Locking the front door after he enters, Shouto shrugs off his cardigan and hangs it on the coat rack. 

He lights a few candles and starts arranging things for opening tomorrow. Moving flowers to the window for early morning light. His morning glory specifically. 

He’s nigh lost in the routine when he hears a familiar ding from the bell. His initial thought was to greet the customer - he’s always so happy when someone takes the time to visit the place that means so much to him. But when he looks up he remembers the sun has said goodnight and the moon is high. 

The shop is closed, and he’s locked the door. 

Or at least he thought he did..? 

“I’m so sorry ma’am, but the shop is closed. I… well I thought I locked that door, guess not.” The woman was tall, heads taller than him but she was also quite old. From the skin he could see under her comically large fur hat, her skin was more wrinkled than a baby’s foot. 

At least sixty or seventy. 

Her long black skintight dress accentuated her, undoubtedly large hips and frighteningly large breasts. Her hair was long and blonde, darker than the mystery man's earlier today. 

It reached down to her large hips and curled at the edges. They swayed as she stalked into his store, looking over everything and then her deep brown cunning eyes landed on Shouto. 

“What a tacky shop, with such tacky clothes…” her voice was silky smooth - at least when the brain first hears it, but after the initial soundwave a faint rasp layered the undertones. Like she’d been smoking cigars in her teatime everyday without fail. 

“But,” brown eyes narrowing at him, she flicks a wrist and waves at him up and down, “you are by far the tackiest thing in here.” The insult cuts to his gut. 

He knows this lady is breaking and entering to the definition. And she’s… clearly not winning any beauty awards, but still he thinks the same of himself, so it hits right where it’s supposed to. 

A part of him wishes the blonde stranger was here. 

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now, we open tomorrow. Once again,” after reaching the door in one uninterrupted stride, Shouto scowls, “The door is over here.” 

This lady ruins blonde, she doesn’t deserve the hair color. 

When she turns her facial expression is so inappropriate he very nearly laughs. 

“How stupidly brave of you! Standing up to The Witch of the Wastes!” Shouto’s heart drops, his blood runs deathly cold at those words. 

“The witch of the wastes?!” She must hear his frightened whisper, because a second later she cackles ugly and the door swings open, smacking his wrist on the knob. He pays it barely any mind because the witch of the wastes twirls her stupid little coat and then rushes at him in a scary show of how big and fast she is. 

Shouto goes to shield his head, knowing he won’t make it in time nor will his small wrists and stick arms do anything to protect himself. But the attack never comes, a cool strange feeling morphs around his body; then he’s suddenly curling forward easily. 

From behind him he hears her raspy voice: “One of the most satisfying spells I know… because you can’t go telling him about it. Until next time, old hag!” And the door slams shut. 

Was that… It? 

Slowly, carefully, Shouto uncurls from his oh-so-effective fetal position. The shop is still intact - there’s barely any way of knowing if she stole something. 

And, well, he’s still alive. 

Did the Witch of the Wastes not, do anything to him? Well, he’s not going to push it, so he books it to the workshop, forego locking the door - it doesn’t even matter she’ll get in either way. He knows he locked that door. 

And- on his way there, he catches sight of himself in the mirror anon, and he notices the sight he sees is quite drastically shorter in passing than normal. 

So he stops. Turns to face the glass fully and, studies himself. 

“Huh!” He gasps. 

The reflection in the mirror is that of a shriveled old man! 

With only white hair!

The Witch of the Wastes must have done this. 

True, he hadn’t seen his reflection since he met the mysterious man. But he had heard his own voice when conversing with that wench! 

And… now he sounds as if he’s ancient, and he looks even older than that! If he was shaming the Witch of the Wastes wrinkles before damned be him because his own face looks like ruffled fabric! 

Not that the wench doesn’t deserve her face to be shamed, she was quite ugly inside and out. No getting past it. 

But, what is he going to do? He can’t tell anyone of the curse, supposedly… 

“The Wicked Witch of the Wastes mhmmgggmmm! Mhhggggmm!” His lips sealed themselves shut! He couldn’t get a peep out about what she had done, meaning he couldn’t tell anyone and he’s sure if he wrote it down the ink would suddenly disappear. 

He tried anyway. Searching around his room quickly for a pen and paper. 

…Quickly meant more like a step a minute. 

He’s uhm, still getting used to the old bones of a rounded head old man body. Is this truly what he will become when he is older? This is horrible. 

When he eventually does find the supplies he wastes no time in slapping them less fluently than he intended onto his dresser and attempting to write out what happened to him. 

But immediately he sees his hand has gone stiff! 

And when he removes it from over the paper he’s, well, less stiff. 

Plopping down, carefully, onto his mattress Shouto heaves a sigh. He can’t just stay here like this forever - he—he needs the spell to be broken. He can’t run his mothers shop like this! His father will disown him if he ever sees him! And with the scar barely concealed under white hair, Shouto’s sure it wouldn’t take a detective to tell who he is. 

He has to leave. 

“Shouto! I’ve found you some ravishing fabric at the market this morning!” Nemuri calls out with three accompanying knocks. But she’s good with his room and doesn’t open it until he says. It’s different with his shop, but with his bedroom she has never once invaded. 

He needs to get out of here now regardless. 

“D-don’t come in here! I’m sick and I don’t want you to catch it!” His own voice sounds so startling to even himself that he’s not surprised to hear a shocked gasp from outside. He can imagine his step-mothers face. 

“Oh! Well, let me know if you need anything, rest well!” 

Shouto sighs in relief, crisis avoided. Number one out of, uh, potentially hundreds. He will have to find new clothes, pack a bag, and get a damn cane! His back feels one wrong move from truly snapping in on itself. 

So he starts simple, clothes. The spell had somehow changed his clothes to fit his new ugly body. Short, chubby, wrinkled in all the wrong places. The fabric against the wrinkles was sending him into an overload - but he realizes unless he sews something right now to fit himself these pants and shirt are all he has. At least they honestly look better on him now than before. 

This time when Shouto wants to sigh, he holds it in. Attempting to pick himself up while he looks over himself in the mirror. He grabs his hat lying around for good measure. Might as well hide himself as best he can as he runs. 

Now done with the lost cause that is his clothes, hat secured on his head and satchel in his hands; Shouto makes his way down to the kitchen. He's certain no one will be there - and if they are it would be one of the bakers, a hired baker. 

A few choice words and he could get out of that. 

Thankfully no one is, and no one has to see him waddle his way in and over to the cabinets, no one sees him groan in pain when a slightly too high reach has his hip protesting. Or when he drops the loaf of bread, and literally has to get into a sumo position to pick it up. 

Safe to say he’s out of breath by the time his satchel is packed with food. 

And even more out of breath as he passes over the bridge across the train tracks. The smog and smoke of the engine wafting dangerously in his face; he very nearly tips over! 

In fact he does, but someone’s hands catch him before he can and the face of a kind young man enters his frankly low view. 

“Ma’am, are you alright, do you need help?” Another blonde stranger, this time with blue eyes. 

He sighs, which inspires a coughing fit and suddenly he’s hacking. Then after a while he waves his hand, trying to soften his voice in order to maybe come across as a woman. 

“No thank you, that's a very kind offer though. Keep up the good work.” The look on the boy's face tells him he succeeded. Someone kind like that, Shouto thinks as he descends the stairs, doesn’t deserve to be made a fool of. 

The rest of his walk towards the Wastes is difficult. Enough so that he flags down a traveling farmer lugging hay on his wagon. Two beautiful geldings leading charge. He’s quite fond of the horses without even knowing them. 

So he asks the farmer if he can catch a ride. 

“Sure lady! Where to?” Shouto allows the man to assist him in jumping (not at all) up onto the back and sitting properly. 

“A little farther than where you’re going, thank you.” The farmer's brow raises but he doesn’t ask anymore questions. Simply nodding and returning to the front. Shouto is eternally grateful for the opportunity to rest his old legs, and back. 

But as soon as the wagon gets a move on the rocky stone floor shakes his body more than if someone grabbed him whole and started dancing! The entire ride is like that, albeit less once they reach the dirty road past the city limit. 

Speaking of limits he’s almost at his when the horses neigh loudly and stop. Shouto doesn’t even give the farmer the chance to assist him off, his hips have died, he’s sure of it. 

“Thank you.” He muffles out, taking into sight the small farm house he’s ended up at. To the west there’s a small path leading into the foggy mountains, deep into the Wastes. 

“You going to the Wastes ma’am? It’s dangerous out there, nothing but witches and wizards!” 

Shouto only nods, tipping his hat to the man. “Thank you,” that’s just what I need, but, “thank you again.” The haze of the mountains is quite daunting, and the further he gets up the large hills the colder it gets and the darker it gets. 

The sun is just setting when his feet scream for a break and his stomach rumbles with hunger. Sustenance acquired, he spots a nice and small boulder shaped well enough for his butt and low enough that he can sit without cracking something on the way down. Shivering like a leaf, since no cardigan fits him, he pulls out his food and takes nibbles of the bread. 

Maybe not eating for near two days is actually not smart. His stomach rumbles, and the hunger pains are constant when he focuses on his stomach, but his appetite is just gone. Maybe it’s because the cold frigid wind sucks all the life out of his body. 

Having barely stopped a minute, he takes to setting off again; if he’s not quick he’ll freeze to death before he finds anyone who can help him. 

Shouto tosses the remaining bread into a nearby bush, he won’t eat it anyway. His eyes catch onto a large stick picking out of that very bush. Thick and sturdy looking. 

“Oh! Perfect for an old man like me. Now to just get it out.” He grips the base of the long tree and starts to pull with all his might. Yanking this way and that, but the stick seems to be stuck. 

“Oh come on, can I not have anything!?” With one final pull the stick comes free - and with it Shouto sees the reason why it was so glued into the shrubbery. 

It was a scarecrow! 

A top hat and a Turnip Headatop a black suit set. It’s last smile was almost unnerving, maybe it would have been cute had the scarecrow not been standing straight up on its own. 

Shouto groans. 

“Another curse? I can’t take much more of this magic stuff.” He never imagined his life would fall victim to such foolishness, magic was something common city folk didn’t see much of. He expected to never really see much of it, and now in the last two days he’s seen more than he ever imagined! Good and bad. 

“You know, I don’t even like turnips. Why couldn’t you have been something like a strawberry, maybe a peach?” The scarecrow somehow seems to dim. Maybe he hurt its feelings. 

“I’m sorry,” Shouto starts walking back towards the path, “It’s just been a crazy day. First I get cursed to be ugly forever,” by my mother, he doesn’t add. 

“Now I get- mmmgmm -to be an old man. Fearful that if I step on a pebble too large I’ll shatter every bone in my body before a Good Samaritan could pin me down…” he shakes his head, taking one last glance back at Market Chipping and seeing that he’s made barely any progress. 

Another sigh-groan escapes him. And another shiver as he repents to the Wastes. Then, suddenly a shawl is being dropped onto his shoulders. He glances up and back and sees the turnip scarecrow had dropped his deep green shawl onto Shouto’s shoulders. 

“Why… thank you, you seem quite nice. I’ll be going now, good luck with your curse.” Then he heads off, tucking his face into the shawl and thanking God he thought to put a hat on, the harsh winds seem to hate him. 

And he can hear a tapping sound behind him, with one turn Shouto sees the scarecrow is following him. Hopping on its one stick and stopping a few meters away. 

“I… you don’t have to follow me. Please don’t, actually! I’ve had more than enough of curses and I fear what being around you could bring.” 

But the scarecrow just stands there until Shouto turns and he once again hears the tapping sound. 

Thinking to himself, Shouto faces the scarecrow and pulls out his best pleading eyes. “If you want to help me… maybe you could try and find me a place to stay for the night? To at least get out of this cold.” This time the scarecrow doesn’t hesitate, it takes off down the way Shouto had come and hops out of sight soon enough. 

Only then does he turn and continue walking into the void. He’s so stupid for this. 

But he’s quite cunning to deceive the scarecrow like that, even if it was only kind to him, Shouto can’t risk falling into another trap. Which is why he’s slightly hesitant to continue searching for a wizard or witch… but really one is his only hope. 

He has no idea how to even begin to study to learn to break the spell, and who knows how long it would take him to be able to conjure magic on his own like that; decades? 

So a blonde wizard it is. 

…

Or- well—that’s not, it doesn’t have to be a blonde tall one. Size doesn’t matter, it’s just—he’s only we’ve known a wizard looking like that. He licks his old chapped lips. Wizards and witches are both fine! 

Female, male, you know! Gender and probably age are irrelevant! He just needs someone who knows what they’re doing, pretty gemstoned clothes or not. 

A-anyway. 

It’s maybe half a candle time later when he decides he has to stop and take a break again. And really and truly he is exhausted, so the decision is more of his right ankle gives out and he tumbles helplessly to the ground. His wrist catches himself and sends a shock of pain up his arm, but at least he didn’t crack his skull and teeth open. 

“Oomf!” The dirt stoney path beneath him is not the comfiest of seats for someone well beyond pubescence. He’s eighteen for Ingary’s sake—that stupid witch of the Wastes has another thing coming if she ever decides it’s a good idea to seek Shouto out again! 

Huffing an angry exhale, he blinks away a stray that caught in his eye and rubs at his sockets again. When he opens them he sees the remnants of… ashes! 

“There must be a fire nearby! Fire means people- and out in the Wastes that probably means magic!” Perfect! With newfound youth Shouto rushes to push himself up and starts behind him. The ashes are pretty big still - so he must’ve stopped right before something. 

Just as he goes to pass over the large hill, the sound of hissing and loud creaking intrudes into his ears, like rattling pots and pans and metal gears. 

Then through it all, Shouto hears the insistent tapping again! 

“Turnip Head?” He mumbles, stunned as the scarecrow in question rounds the mountain from the other side, leading - leading behind him The Moving Castle! 

“Oh my gosh—turnip head. When I said a place to stay I did not mean Katsuki’s moving castle!!” And it’s headed straight for him! 

Shouto has to duck to the side when the ginormous piece of… metal? From the front Shouto can see rooms upon rooms, two metal tank heads lopsided at the top connected by other pipes and rooms. The canons point in all directions, and there are two little free cannon holes that give each head an almost alive look. 

But… overall it looks nothing like a castle up close. More like a giant pile of impressive trash on four chicken legs walking around the Wastes. 

“Not what you think of when you think castle, huh turnip head?” It passes by him before he even realizes it, down the hill he walked up. 

“Ugh! I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try!” Katsuki may be the most dangerous wizard he could have run into, but he’s no danger to Shouto, an old wrinkly man. In fact, this may actually be perfect! 

“How do I-” just as he goes to complain, he turns and sees a hanging porch, narrow in length and lighting up a door with one yellow bulb. The way in! 

Shouto takes off running as fast as his stiff legs will allow. It seems every moment he needs a burst of energy it comes! His legs carry him all the way to the door, nearly on the porch, nearly touching the railing! And he got it! 

His hands curl tightly around the metal railing, not unlike his shop's own. Now safe on the jutting down porch, Shouto looks back and sees Turnip Headstill hopping after him- rapidly his shawl flies off! 

“Oh- I’m sorry!” He truly does feel bad, what if this Turnip Headcan feel pain and temperature? What if that shawl was the only thing keeping his stick thin body warm? Not only is he entering Katsuki’s Moving Castle on his own, but he can’t even return the shawl. 

But the Turnip Headscarecrow makes no move to retrieve it. Almost even shaking his head, Shouto’s sure he saw it. 

“I’ll be going in now, it’s cold, I’m sorry about your shawl! Thank you for helping me, I hope we never meet again!” Then he turns and yanks open the door to reveal steep stone stairs. 

Quickly he shuts it behind him, leaning back against it for a long moment, then cracking open his eyes to see the darkness of the room. He’s standing in a low stone stairwell, metal railings with the same design as the ones outside line the tops of the walls on either side of him. 

As he ascends the stairs the room comes into sight clearer. And… 

It’s disgusting. 

“Is this really Katsuki’s castle?” No one responds, thankfully, and it gives Shouto even more time to glance around. Each surface is filled to the brim with books and dishes, jars of glass and bowls of dirt. There is fabric hanging randomly from the ceiling, giant rocks laying hazardously around the place. A small fire gleams to his left and a chair sits out directly in front of it. 

One thing Shouto also notes, from the firelight he can see lots of tiny pieces sparkling everywhere. Gemstones! 

There are shiny rocks slid all around, he notes in some of the jars it’s just rocks and crystals! 

Oh how Shouto longs to go digging through these piles of junk for goodies. 

But he’s spent, running and walking in freezing cold weather as an at least eighty year old man has made his brain and body utterly empty. He’s aching and throbbing everywhere, not used to even in his young age moving around like this. So he makes a run for the chair and parks himself in it. 

He still really could use a cane… 

“Wow lady, that is one nasty curse.” 

Shouto shoots up, he hasn’t even realized he was falling asleep! Glancing around frightened, Shouto looks all over the room, more scared now that he’s heard the voice but can’t place the person. 

“H-hello?” 

“Down here. Nope, nope. Yup. The fire.” Shouto’s eyes land on the small flame crackling softly on one log. And suddenly it grows eyes! And they open! And blink! He sits there stunned. 

“W-what are you?” Increasingly terrifying yet intriguing. A familiar? But aren’t familiars animals? 

Is it a spirit? 

“I’m the scary and powerful fire demon named Calcifer!!! RAGH!” Shouto leaned forward, barely acknowledging the show of flame power. His eyes were so tiny and real. Little lighter colored arms pooled out of either side of his flame body like noodles. 

“Sorry, I just like to do that when I can. Anyway, why the hell are you in my castle?” Great question, Shouto thinks, leaning back, eyes still narrowed on the fire. Calcifer. 

“Uh, my name is Shouto. I’m… I’m here looking for a wizard to break my spell.” 

Calcifer swirls and turns, eyeing him with what Shouto guesses would probably be a suspicious look if he were a human. 

“And, if you’re a demon that means you could break my spell too, right?” 

“Maybe, maybe not, what’s in it for me?” Shouto ponders it for a moment, he had nothing a demon could want. Maybe years of his life? But what’s the point in giving up years of his life just to get some back? 

“I-I could help you with something? I don’t have much to offer but my services.” And it’s the truth. 

Calcifer seems to think for a moment, then swirls side to side with a groan. It’s quite funny to see a demon look so disinterested. A talking fire demon… wow. 

“I got it, you break the spell I’m under with Katsuki, and I’ll easily break the spell you’re under!” Calcifer’s arms wail again at his request. 

“So I just need to figure out how to… wait, Katsuki? Is he here right now?” Shame and uneasiness washes over him. Newly, he looks around the place, trying to spot someone, any figure that could be Katsuki. 

“Nah, he’s out right noww, like usual. Then he’ll come back and demand a ‘bath’ and ‘move the castle here’ and ‘I found a pawn shop here’ and blughhhh.” 

Shouto’s lips curl into a smile subconsciously. This fire demon is quite funny. It sounds like wizard Katsuki puts him to work. 

“Oookay… I think I can try to figure out how to break it.” Shouto yawns. 

“Good! Great! Perfect, then I’ll finally be free of his stupid tantrums and yelling for no damn reason.”

Shouto only nods, allowing his lids to slowly melt together. It’s been a long day and… he’s… 

…tired. 

When he wakes it’s to the sound of rushing footsteps and a harsh knock at the door. 

At first he thinks he’s in the shop, that he fell asleep during work - he’s quick to peel open his eyes and attempt to stand up but the movement happens way slower than he intends it too. 

It’s only when he sees, fireplace, mess, ashes, that he realizes he’s not at the shop. Then he remembers, he’s not even in Market Chipping anymore. Then the footsteps are closer, a quiet childlike gasp, Shouto twirls his head, eyes meeting those of a small child. 

“What are-” then the knocks intensify. 

The child rushes past Shouto’s chair and rips something off one of the full tables. It’s a cloak, and he swings it around his shoulders and throws up the hood. In a display of deceitful magic a large orange beard flashes into existence reaching the kids mid thigh. 

He then rushes past Shouto again and towards the door, when he reaches the steps he bellows out a “Stand by!” In a clearly fake voice to anyone who’s heard the kids voice before. But he takes the important looking Duke beyond the door has not, because they converse like one would with an old wizard man before Shouto can get up or anything of the sort. 

He only hears the words ‘Bakugou,’ ‘report’ and ‘war’ before the doors shut again and the kid- old man, is stalking over to him. Shouto can’t suppress his giggle as dark serious eyes flash in what the kid must think is an intimidating manner with the beard disguise still on. 

“What are you doing here, and how’d you get in?” He glares. 

And since he is the intruder here, Shouto slowly stands, ignoring the echoing sound of, I don’t know, his entire back cracking, and bows slightly. 

He again, ignores the sound of his knees popping. 

“My name is Shouto, I’m—” here for Katsuki? Lost?  In terrible need of a blonde handsome shiny stranger to whisk me off my feet again and maybe this time kiss me? “—the new cleaning lady.” 

What the hell? 

“You’re not a lady. Don’t lie to me, why did Calcifer let you in - are you a wizard?” To the kids credit, he removes the cloak, beard disappearing with it and throws it over the back of a couch Shouto hadn’t even noticed. But he doesn’t come any closer to Shouto. 

“Do you really think I’d let a wizard in here, Kota?” If not for Calcifer’s demeaning and disrespectful tone Shouto would’ve interpreted the words as caring. 

At that, the ki—Kota, shrugs his shoulders and sends Shouto another wary glance before his stomach rumbles and he’s rushing over to one of the multiple cluster filled shelves and harshly pulling open a drawer. 

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” Kota grabs a plate of cheese and a loaf of bread, keeping the food in one arm he spends an insane amount of time gently moving things around on the tables without touching a single gemstone. The sight is quite funny because the little nook he creates for himself is barely free of gemstones. Why doesn’t he just… move them? Everything that’s not a crystal the boy just shucks off onto the floor. 

Shouto’s mouth gapes open. 

Then he reminds himself of the cleaning lady incident. First of all - why the hell would he ever ever ever say he’s a cleaning lady?! 

And this child is right, Kota is right! He is not a lady! 

Of course he knows that, but he supposes it was just natural for in a moment of his own personal fault that he tried to appease. Even though Kota probably wouldn’t have kicked him out if he said cleaning lad, or butler. 

Well. Actually he didn’t, Kota saw that he was a man. It made Shouto feel quite seen, even if he was sixty years different. And even if Kota was just a naive lad barely old enough to tie his laces. 

“I-” he stumbles, “you’re right. And I would quite enjoy some breakfast.” For the first time in a  while he’s looking forward to some nice home cooked food. So often lately he has no appetite, like earlier, so when he does it’s almost like he’s not himself. 

Shouto feels like he could eat six cows all on his own. 

“Alright. Do you want bread or cheese? We only have a little of both.” 

…

What..? 

Shouto glances over to where Kota is sitting, and takes note that yes, the plate of cheese and ‘loaf’ of bread are more like ‘plate with crumbs and cloth with wheat.’

Is this really all the wizard Katsuki has to offer? Crumbs and a measly one bite?! 

Shouto huffs and stomps over to the filled cabinet, there’s a basket full of eggs and a metal platter with seven or eight pieces of bacon stacked on each other. 

The bacon looks deliciously fresh, and the eggs bear no rotten smell, so Shouto looks around for a pan and gets to work. 

“Would you like some eggs and bacon, Kota?” 

Kota's dark eyes shift over to him, he looks guarded, and yet at ease at the same time. Almost like his careful personality is just how he is, and Shouto’s barely even an afterthought anymore. 

“Uh-huh. But Master Katsuki’s not home, so we can’t use the fire.” He says, matter of factly. 

“That’s okay—I may not be the best cook but I think I can cook eggs and bacon well enough,” he lays the basket down on the chair he was sitting in and adds quietly, “hopefully.” 

“That’s not what I meant. We can’t use the fire if he’s not here because Calcifer only listens to Master Katsuki.” He pays it no mind, already rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, this can’t be that hard, right? 

“Yeah! I don’t take orders from you, I’m only loyal to Katsuki, I’m a scary powerful fire demon raghhh!” Repeating the same phrase he croaked last night, Calcifer once again waves his arms wildly. 

“Really? You seemed pretty unloyal last night.” Shouto smirks as the flame gasps dramatically. 

“Maybe I should tell Katsuki about our deal?” He shrugs his shoulders slyly. 

“I NEEEVER should have let you in here!” 

“Hurry up,” Shouto reprimands, “me and Kota are hungry.” Shouto pushes the long pan down onto Calcifer’s face and waits for the demon to give in - he finally concedes after Shouto begins to recall last night's events… 

“Good fire demon.” The pan plops down onto a tame flame. Sizzling the bacon as Shouto drops them onto its warming surface. Next comes a few eggs he cracks all wrong. Shell ends up in them and it blends in with the whites before Shouto can even pretend to attempt to get them out. 

“Here’s another curse, may all your bacon burn.” Calcifer spits monotonously. 

Then moments later the sound of popping and the rancid smell of burning bacon wafts through the house. 

“I don’t even think you can cook.” Kota whispers in an oddly amazed tone. 

He’s closer now too, at some point he had gotten up from his seat and shuffled up to Shouto’s left. 

“Well… I g-guess cleaning and cooking are very different…” just then the sound of a bell dinging grabs both of their attention towards the door. It swings open and in walks—the- the blonde mysterious man!

Shouto very nearly drops his hold on the pan entirely! 

What further seals his fate is when Kota runs over to the railing and starts nearly vibrating as he recalls what the prior guests had said. 

“Master Katsuki!” He delivers the verdict. “You were summoned by the king today, as both Bakugou and Dynamight.” Shouto’s ears perk at that, but as soon as mys—Katsuki reaches the top step Shouto hurriedly turns his gaze back towards burning the eggs now too and hopes that maybe, just maybe Katsuki will not even see him! 

Thankfully his hair is just white - he would be mortified if the boy Katsuki flirted with just two days ago somehow popped up in his house sixty years older and began burning his bacon! 

“Master Katsuki?” He hears Kota’s small voice call. 

He doesn’t know how he hears it because all he can focus on is Katsuki’s clanking footsteps coming closer to him each second. And when the man reaches and stops by his side he can only hope that the layer of hair covering his scar is thick enough. 

Then- "Burning down my castle, pretty boy?” Before Shouto knows, those same rough hands take the pan from over top of his, engulfing his old and still smaller hand and Shouto relinquishes it easily. A light gasp is pushed from his lungs. 

P-pretty boy? 

“Damn this is, really bad.” Shouto goes to apologize, really he means this handsome man no harm. But then Katsuki is flipping the pan and pouring all the food he just ‘cooked’ into Calcifer’s awaiting mouth and demanding more eggs and bacon. 

He can’t form the words, and then there’s a pan a foot from his face, waiting. 

“A-ah—yes!” In two pieces of bacon go; and then Katsuki puts the pan back on the fire. 

“Calcifer, you a fucking traitor? Listening to any man that walks in here like a dog.” Despite the foul language Shouto’s somehow grown accustomed to in - what, two minutes in total of interaction in the last three days, Katsuki’s speech is confident and sure. 

He snorts the comment, and feeds the fire an eggshell he takes from Shouto’s hand when he replies: “I wasn’t exactly trying to listen to him! He bullied me!” 

“Not just anyone can do that,” Katsuki sends him a sideways look, hand outstretched for another egg from Shouto. 

Who’s long gone in the attractive grin and shiny gemstones. He’s wearing the same coat he was when they met, and once again, Shouto has the opportunity to ogle. 

“Who’re you?” Katsuki asks. 

Shouto hands him an egg. 

“I’m… Shouto. I- I started work today; cleaning. I’m Shouto.” 

Katsuki ‘hm’s and feeds Calcifer more eggshell, the fire makes noises of satisfaction while chewing and Shouto’s eyes are momentarily drawn to the literal fire eating eggs in front of him. 

Magic sure is a crazy thing. 

“Who hired you?” 

Head in the clouds, he notes that Katsuki sounds utterly exhausted, and looks up at him as he hands the last egg. Shouto sees he has dark circles beginning under his eyes. They make him look older, but no less handsome. 

In Shouto’s humble opinion. 

“Calcifer.” He blurts. 

Katsuki snorts at that, flipping the eggs flawlessly. They look really good. 

“Sure, my fire did. Kota! Get some plates!” Even exhausted he’s still a good dad. 

Katsuki catches his eye, bright blonde brow rising incredulously. “Kota is my apprentice, not my son.” 

He said that out loud?! 

What’s the difference, his traitorous heart murmurs. 

Kota pulls out three plates and three bowls, Katsuki sets the plate of food down and heads back off to the fire, fiddling around with something and making Calcifer groan out another complaint. What a bitchy fire demon. 

“Which one do you want. You can only have one because all the rest are dirty.” Kota sticks a hand out holding up all three spoons of various sizes. 

Three… spoons. For bacon and eggs. 

And the spoons are barely even clean themselves! They have dust caked all over them! So he takes all three and wipes them off till they’re nearly shining and returns them around the table, deciding himself who gets which size. 

Does Katsuki never clean? He really had his work cut out for him… oh Shouto, why would you do this to yourself? 

Shouto jolts violently when the sound of a kettle whistles loudly through the air. As a result of his surprise, his elbow jerks into his bowl and it goes scattering across the floor. He’s still shocked still when Katsuki’s eyes narrow behind him and catch onto Shouto’s haunted look. 

“What’s wrong, darling, what happened?” He picks the kettle up off of Calcifer and furrows the brows. Shouto can only swallow and shake his head, ignoring the bowl pieces on the floor and wringing his hands as he waits for Katsuki to pour himself and Kota bowls of tea. 

To his surprise he carefully pours the tea into Kota’s bowl over his head ravenously digging into the bacon and eggs and then pushes his own filled bowl over to Shouto. 

No one mentions it, Katsuki only clasps his hands and says a thanks over the food. Shouto’s eyes are on his exposed chest the entire time; not a word was heard. It feels kind of crazy, sitting at this messy table as an eighty year old man, oldest. 

In the castle of the most fabled wizard in all of the west—even over the Witch of the Wastes. Eating bacon and eggs he had attempted to cook before Katsuki got home and took the job from him. 

Shivering in his old bones at the echoing sound of the kettle whistling over and over in his head like it never was lifted from the fire. Like Calcifer the fire demon who was stuck in a curse with Katsuki was still heating it up. But he wasn’t, and Kota was munching happily, and for the first time, as he carefully bites into his bacon, Shouto looks at Kota’s attire. 

The little boy sports a styled hat he’s never seen, two gold spikes poke out of the thick material. He has on a skintight black long sleeve shirt under a ruffled and loose white bubble sleeveless shirt. His pants are black and baggy, but they only reach his knees. The cutest part of the whole outfit is the yellow bow tie around his neck. He also has on chunky brown boots even inside.

Which… Shouto advises until he can get his hands on everything; not looking forward to that. It might take him days to get through all of this - especially since there’s an upstairs?! 

“Shouto, what’ve you got in your pocket?” Katsuki rumbles, his spoon scraping against his plate. But he doesn’t look angry, at least not at Shouto as he waits expectantly. There’s a look in his eyes that has Shouto stopping, patient, understanding… something softer. 

Something way too familiar, yet he knows he’s never known this man before the alley incident. 

“My… pocket?” Trusting the wizard's words, Shouto reaches down to his right pocket and shuffles around. It doesn’t take long for his hands to find a piece of paper. He pulls it out and sees it’s just the bakery coupon. 

“Oh, this is—”

“Other pocket, baby.” 

Shouto’s cheeks flush. Pretty boy? Baby? Does wizard Katsuki have no shame in talking to an elderly man in such a way?! 

“S-sorry.” And indeed, in his left pocket he pulls out a similar paper in size, but instead of a yellowing white, its deep red and quality.

“Good boy, hand it over?” Shouto doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. 

When he reaches his wrinkly hand out to hand it over, the paper suddenly explodes into a mess of sparks! Shouto retreats his hand quickly but doesn’t miss the lick of black flames that ripple on Katsuki’s hand.

Kota gasps, reaching his hands to steady himself over his plate and lean forward dangerously. If Shouto wasn’t still slightly stunned he would have fussed and worried over Kota tipping his chair. 

“Scorch marks! Master Katsuki, can you read them?” Scorch marks? On the paper? 

Shouto’s eyes follow Kota’s, wide but focused on a spot on the table. And sure enough there are indentations on the table right below where his and Katsuki’s hands met. The paper must’ve triggered some spell. 

That was Shouto’s guess. 

“‘Course I can, squirt. These are fairly old techniques…” Katsuki leans forward too, one fucking muscular forearm supporting him as he leans forward to take a look. 

Shouto watches his muscles shift in his arm, the squeeze of his fisted hand, the gemstone earrings jingle. And the sparkle in his carmine red eyes. 

“‘You who swallowed a falling star, your heart shall soon belong to me,’” Katsuki grumbled, “How eloquent of her…” Shouto narrowly misses the last mumble. 

“Is it from the Witch of the Wastes, Master?” 

That wench! Even the mere mention has Shouto gritting his teeth, he doesn’t notice Katsuki give him a sidelong stare. 

“Yes. But no matter, don’t want these damn marks on my table.” Katsuki reaches his other hand out and slowly swipes it over the mark. Black flames hinted orange spears from his hand. The flames sparkle and sometimes little explosions crackle - Shouto is enamored by his magic. 

And when he’s gone over the mark completely the table is good as new! Katsuki whisks his hand away and stands abruptly. Shouto follows his movement. 

“Woah!! It’s gone!” 

Katsuki nods his head, "The mark is gone but the nasty curse is still there, enjoy the rest of breakfasts, I have to go.” Shouto wants to reach his hand out and grab Katsuki’s, pull him back down and have him continue eating with them. 

But he doesn’t, he watches him lift his plate and feed the remaining food to Calcifer. 

“Calcifer, move the castle a hundred miles to the north, and make hot water for my bath.” Calcifer groans around the food in his makeshift mouth. 

“Fine, like moving the castle isn’t hard enough.” He grumbles, and Shouto almost feels bad for him. 

“Shut the hell up, hot water.” Katsuki takes the stairs two at a time, looking back at Shouto and Kota one last time, he says: “Next time you want to cook, just wait for me, got it princess?” Someone must have taken possession of his body, he’s sure of it.

He nods, blushing hard, “Y-yes…I’m sorry.” 

“No need to apologize.” Then he’s gone up the stairs, out of Shouto’s frankly lustful sight. He hears Calcifer make a gagging noise. 

…

“You’re not working for the Witch of the Wastes, are you?” He knows Kota’s question is harmless. Smart! Even! But the mere thought that he could be in cahoots with the wench of the Wastes has his blood boiling! 

“No! I would never work with someone as ugly as her! And if I ever get my hands on her I’m going to shove needles in her stupid eyes and make sure she’s buried in that ugly dress of hers!” 

Shouto’s fuming. And in one last overflowing bubble of anger he stands and slams his fragile fists onto the table, “Wench!”