Sometimes, it seemed that no good deed went unpunished.

This was turning out to be the case for Izuku Midoriya ever since the class’s trip to the beach last week (he still wasn’t very clear on how frolicking in the sand and surf was going to help their development as heroes, but everyone seemed to be having so much fun that he couldn’t bring himself to mind). It had been fairly uneventful, unless you counted the usual antics that ensued whenever swimsuits and teenagers were involved. Izuku himself tended to burn easily if he stayed in direct sunlight for too long, so he spent most of the time just hanging out in the shade near the boardwalk. He was perfectly content to just do the homework he’d brought with him, chat with his classmates once in a while, and listen to the sound of the ocean.

Unfortunately, things hardly ever stayed so peaceful for long.

“Hey, what’s going on out there? Is that Uraraka?” Kirishima piped up from where he was getting a drink from the vending machine near Izuku’s study spot. The green-haired boy’s head whipped up at the sound of his friend’s name, and he followed Kirishima’s gaze to see Uraraka bobbing in the choppy water, separated from his other classmates and waving her arm.

He was in the water before five seconds had gone by, his body crackling with Full Cowling.

She thrashed and kicked when he took hold of her arms, which was understandable since that was the typical thing people did when they were drowning and panicking, but what worried Izuku was when she went limp, her head lolling in exhaustion. The water crashed around them, and only then did Izuku notice that the ocean was trying to pull them away from the shore, lapping over them relentlessly over and over—a rip current. Water rushed up around his chest and splashed up to his mouth, and he lifted his chin and held his breath. He held Uraraka as high as he could, his heart pounding as memories of green sludge seeping into his lungs and suffocating him flashed through his mind.

But he wasn’t helpless like that anymore.

He let the power of One For All fill his body again, gritting his teeth as he forced the water to release its hold and kicking furiously to get them back to shore. They rocketed through the water like a speedboat. The muscles of his legs burned, and his chest ached with the exertion from holding his breath. Distantly, he registered the confused and anxious shouts of his classmates, but right now he was only concerned with getting Uraraka to safety.

He gasped deep, desperate lungfuls of air when he reached the shore, as if making up for all the breaths he had been unable to take when the water was surrounding him. His t-shirt was dripping, the fabric clinging to him uncomfortably. Laying Uraraka gently on the sand, he brushed her drenched chestnut hair away from where it was plastered across her forehead and cheek. She was almost as white as her swimsuit, her usually-rosy cheeks pale. When he turned her face to let water drain from her nose, her head flopped to the side lifelessly. He couldn’t feel any air coming from her mouth or nose when he centered it again, and her chest wasn’t rising or falling.

His heart rate sped up again, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Something like terror raced down his spine like an icy hand. Though the shadows of the other members of Class 2-A fell over the two of them, Izuku’s focus had no room for anyone but Uraraka.

He didn’t think twice about what he did next.

CPR wasn’t something he’d ever performed in real life, but he knew the theory well enough. He tilted Uraraka’s chin up, pinched her nose, and delivered rescue breathing. He had to give five puffs of air, one after the other, just as the training had taught him.

“Oh my god, is she okay?” Ashido’s anxious voice said from somewhere to the rear of them.

“Of course she’s not!” Kaminari hissed. “Just look at her!”

“Shut up, guys!” Jirou interjected. “Back off and give them some space!”

Before he could even finish giving the fourth breath, Uraraka’s face twitched. His gaze moved over her, taking in every movement as her eyes fluttered open halfway. “You’re okay,” Izuku murmured as he held her cheek, not knowing if he was talking to himself or Uraraka. Then his friend’s face twisted in discomfort, and Izuku sat up to allow her to curl over to her side and cough the water from her lungs. Her breaths were ragged, her shoulders trembling, but as she propped herself up on one elbow and groaned, Izuku felt a rush of overwhelming relief. She was alive! He clenched his hands into fists to stop their shaking. A lightheaded feeling swept through him, and he sat back on his heels, suddenly feeling as if a light breeze could blow him over.

“Everyone back up!” Aizawa barked, shouldering through the ring of concerned onlookers. “I leave you kids alone for five minutes… What in the world was that useless lifeguard doing?!”

Izuku hauled himself to his feet, his knees wobbling as they barely supported his weight, and stepped back to allow their teacher to kneel down and examine Uraraka. When she was pulled to a sitting position and wrapped tightly in a towel, Izuku couldn’t help noting how small it made her look. She didn’t look like the strong, independent Uraraka he knew. She looked vulnerable, even helpless. Izuku decided he really didn’t like seeing her like this.

“Well, we were lucky,” Aizawa informed them when she’d been checked over. “There wasn’t much water for her to dispel.”

“I don’t know what happened.” Uraraka’s voice was hoarse, quiet, and her eyes were a little glazed. She was staring at the clumps of sand between her toes, but it didn’t look like she was really seeing it. “I’m good at swimming, but… the water suddenly dragged me away from everyone…”

“Rip currents are very dangerous,” Aizawa told her, and perhaps it was Izuku’s imagination, but he thought the words directed towards Uraraka were more gentle than usual. “Even strong swimmers get caught up in them.” He turned his attention to the rest of the class. “No one else is going swimming today, needless to say.” Some of the students made noises of disappointment, but most of them nodded solemnly. The thick tension that hung in the air still hadn’t entirely dispersed. “Well, what are you all still standing around for?” he prompted them then. “Stop crowding her. Asui, please take Uraraka to the first-aid area to get changed into dry clothes.”

The frog girl nodded and stepped forward, helping Uraraka to her feet as the rest of the class separated into groups. Izuku watched as Asui—no, Tsuyu-chan—and Uraraka made their way up to the boardwalk slowly.

“Your quick thinking may have saved Uraraka-kun’s life,” Iida said, clapping a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. It was probably supposed to be a gesture of reassurance, but instead it felt kind of like a karate chop. He stumbled slightly at the force, stifling an oof.

“I—I just did what we’ve been trained to do,” he said. “Anyone else could have done it.”

“Nonsense. You’ve done something commendable and you should be acknowledged for it,” his taller friend insisted. He turned to their teacher, who was watching Uraraka’s progress as well. “Isn’t that right, Aizawa-sensei?”

“Well, to be honest,” said Aizawa, hunching his shoulders and sticking his hands in his pockets, because even at the beach he dressed like a shabby ninja, “she would have been fine without the rescue breathing.”

Izuku and Iida stared. “Huh?” Izuku squeaked.

“She simply needed her airway cleared,” Aizawa clarified. “However, you performed the procedure exactly as you were instructed, so your actions are indeed worthy of praise.” He shuffled up to them and patted Izuku’s mess of wet curly hair once. “Nice work.”

From Aizawa, this was indeed exultant praise. “Th-Thank you, sir,” he replied as their teacher wandered off to round up the other kids.

“Did I hear that correctly?” Ashido asked from behind them, and Izuku jumped as he whirled to face her. She was wearing a purple bikini that exposed a lot of rosy pink skin and which made him uncomfortable to look at, so he fixed his eyes three inches from her left shoulder instead. “Uraraka didn’t actually need rescue breathing?”

“Um,” said Izuku, feeling sheepish, “that would seem to be the case, yes.”

She grinned wider than Izuku thought appropriate, given that one of her classmates had just nearly drowned. Her gold eyes gleamed. “So there was no reason for you to kiss her like her life depended on it?”

His mouth dropped open. “Wh—wh—?!”

“I mean, I get it,” said Ashido, holding up her hands. “Uraraka’s a cutie. But isn’t it a little crass to kiss her if she’s unconscious?”

“I—I wasn’t—!” Izuku’s mouth opened and closed like the drawbridge of a very stupid castle. His cheeks felt like two miniature suns.

“How dare you!” Iida interjected, his hands sawing the air in agitation. “Midoriya-kun was merely doing his duty as a hero and a friend! He had no ulterior motives!” Izuku shot a grateful glance at him, since his mouth still wasn’t working properly.

“I’ve got to agree with Mina,” Jirou put in, coming up behind her pink classmate. Her swimsuit was more modest—a black one-piece, plain but flattering—so she wasn’t quite as hard to look at. She rested one hand on her hip, twirling one of her earlobes around a finger with the other. “You should probably apologize to her for stealing her first kiss.”

“B-B… I…!” His mouth was working about as well as the Tin Man’s before Dorothy had found the oil can. Her first kiss? Stolen by him? That was ridiculous. Mouth-to-mouth was nothing like kissing. …Well, it was a little like kissing, if you called it mouth-to-mouth, but the objective was definitely different!

“I thought it was sweet!” Hagakure’s voice chirped, her pink halter-top two-piece bouncing over to them. “It reminded me of Sleeping Beauty! Except instead of a dragon, Midoriya fought the whole ocean to save his princess!”

“Don’t tease him like that, guys,” Ojiro scolded them from a short distance away. “Midoriya, you did the right thing. They’re just giving you a hard time to lighten the mood since everyone was kinda scared for a while there.”

Izuku just nodded dumbly as the three girls cracked up.

Ochaco found herself wondering if everyone could somehow read her mind.

Last week at the beach, she’d nearly drowned. That had sucked, needless to say. Deku had pulled her to shore and saved her, because of course he had since he was Deku. Her memory of the incident was a blur of panic and desperation. If she hadn’t been so freaked out by the water sweeping her away, maybe she would have done the intelligent thing and levitated herself out of the water, but alas, her mind had only been a chaotic rush of OhMyGodTheOceanIsTryingToKillMe  and AmIReallyGoingToDieInARufflyBikini? The first thing she recalled after losing consciousness was being wrapped up in a towel, suddenly able to feel the warmth on her skin again. When she had recovered, she’d thanked Deku profusely for rescuing her, and he had turned red and told her not to worry about it. That didn’t seem out of the ordinary, really.

What was out of the ordinary was that every time she teetered on the border between sleep and wakefulness since then, she found herself thinking of him leaning over her, looking down at her in concern as he held her cheek gently, and kissing her awake.

Maybe most girls would enjoy the recurring dream of the person they sort-of-maybe-perhaps had the tiniest little itty-bitty bit of a giant crush on kissing them, but for Ochaco, it just felt like another reminder that she let herself get distracted too often. She’d tried a number of methods in first year to curb the feelings—snapping a rubber band on her wrist (that had ended up getting suspicious since she snapped it constantly whenever she talked to him), imagining him as a potato whenever he popped up in her thoughts (that had led to her just craving potatoes all month), even avoiding him (that had been unbearable after only two days—the heartbroken look on his face when she turned away from him and walked off without a word shattered her resolve nigh-instantly). No matter how often she mentally told her feelings for him to take a hike and get out of there, they lingered around, sprawled across a mental sofa and refusing to leave the mental house while they just grew and grew.

Still, though, she hadn’t ever had indulgent dreams like this. Maybe once or twice she’d idly entertained the idea of what it would be like to kiss him, but she never got very far in imagining it, because she’d remember his fierce, single-minded determination to become a hero and instantly feel ashamed of herself for getting lost in something as juvenile as high school romance. Why couldn’t she dedicate herself to her dream the same way he did? Did she just not want it as badly? Or—and this was a scary thought—was she so weak that she wanted another person more than she wanted to be a hero?

And so she pushed aside these thoughts whenever they occurred. She did not pay any mind to the fluttering of her heart when he smiled at her; she ignored the butterflies in her stomach whenever they brushed hands; she fought the floaty feelings that could rival the effects of her Quirk whenever he praised her. Rather than beating against her chest like a caged bird, her heart merely ruffled its feathers a little when he was near, and if she really concentrated, she could turn those butterflies in her stomach back into caterpillars that just sort of wriggled around and made her vaguely uncomfortable. She was a pro at dealing with this whole burying-her-feelings thing by now. And these dreams were totally screwing that up!

The worst part was that she didn’t really want the dreams to go away, if she was being honest with herself. It was probably the closest she would ever come to actually kissing him. Maybe, a part of her tried to convince herself, if she had these dreams, she wouldn’t crave the real thing?

No, that was stupid. So very, very stupid.

Despite how persistent and consuming they were, Ochaco had always thought herself to be rather good at concealing her feelings for him. Sure, people had occasionally figured it out—Aoyama had been the first, but eventually nearly all the girls in her class had caught on—but even then she’d just carried on as usual until everyone seemed to forget about it. Maybe one day even she would forget about it.

If Deku would ever stop being so damn likable, that was.

She had been keeping a lid on her feelings for as long as she’d known what they were. She had never outright confessed them to anyone, and she was almost positive that the boys in her class didn’t have a clue (They rarely had a clue about anything).

So why was it that now, everyone seemed to be murmuring to each other with secret smiles when she and Deku sat together or ate together? Why had she once caught Kaminari making a kissy face at them when they walked by? Why would Mina’s eyes dart between Ochaco and Deku before she shot Ochaco a mischievous wink?

She didn’t know how, but her classmates suddenly all seemed to know that she was head-over-heels for her best friend, and they were making sure she knew they knew. These days she found herself looking around to check if anyone had seen whenever she accidentally let her gaze linger a little too long on him, or deliberately sitting on Iida’s other side at lunch instead of having Deku in the middle like usual. Her tall friend made a very effective wall. But still, everyone looked at her like they knew exactly who she wanted beside her. Who she dreamed of every night.

When the bell rang Friday morning, Ochaco ducked her head, avoiding Jirou’s knowing smirk as she returned to her seat after bidding Deku a rushed good-bye.

It had been about a week, and Izuku was getting a little frustrated with his classmates.

He knew they meant well. They would never do anything to hurt him on purpose (well, aside from Kacchan, who even now in second year took a little too much delight in hurting him when the opportunity presented itself), and their jokes were mostly harmless.

But he couldn’t help but feel mortified during instances like Monday’s, when Kaminari had glibly asked “Where’s Sleeping Beauty? Does she need a prince’s kiss again?” when Uraraka hadn’t arrived in homeroom yet.

Or Tuesday, when Sero had casually walked by him and asked “Hey Midoriya, how’s your girlfriend doing?”

He was startled out of writing something in his notebook, so he had answered without thinking. “Oh, she’s fine now!” he said with a quick smile, and then immediately felt his cheeks color. “I mean—wait, no—I—” But his stammering protests fell on deaf ears as Sero merely laughed and walked away.

There had also been Wednesday’s visit to the pool after school, during which a few of his classmates had begun floundering in the water. “Help me, I’m drowning!” Kaminari had lamented dramatically. “Where’s Midoriya? I need… the kiss of life…!” He extended a grasping hand to the sky, as if waiting for a large bird to snatch him up.

“Oh no, I am sinking!” Kirishima had added. His acting skills were more reminiscent of something wooden than something made of rock. “Wherever is my manly and heroic savior?”

“I’m not swimming with you guys anymore,” Izuku had muttered darkly, climbing the ladder out of the pool and stalking away dripping wet. They’d called out apologies after him, but he wasn’t in a very forgiving mood for once.

Izuku had a reputation for being kind, non-confrontational, and frankly, easy to walk all over. The fact that people were teasing him was nothing. He was used to it. He’d been mocked and derided his whole life. But the fact that they were dragging Uraraka into it, fluttering their eyelashes at the two of them and winking and making Uraraka’s face cloud over with uncertainty and confusion, was something he wasn’t as willing to put up with.

When Hagakure had giddily asked him at lunch Thursday when he first realized his feelings for Uraraka (which was a question that Izuku didn’t even know how to properly answer—which feelings was he supposed to “realize”? There were a lot of feelings and some of them he wasn’t quite sure he was willing to classify as “realized”!), he finally lost his patience.

“Listen, you’re all wrong!” he declared, having clambered atop a table for emphasis. Ordinarily he wouldn’t do something like this, but drastic times called for drastic measures. Uraraka herself had gone to the restroom, so he felt reasonably certain that talking about it now would be less risky. Class 2-A’s voices petered out as they offered their attention, and Izuku clenched his fists by his sides as he continued. “I… I’ve had lifeguard training before! I would have done what I did for Uraraka-san for anyone!”

He glared around at them all as they stared, and nobody spoke for a moment.

“Even Iida?” Ashido broke the silence.

“Of course!” he answered immediately.

“That’s very chivalrous of you, Midoriya-kun,” his friend said graciously. “However, I must insist that you get down from that table at once.”

“Would you even do that for Bakugou?” some foolish person that sounded like Kaminari asked.

“Absolutely!” Izuku shouted before the question was even finished, and then instantly recognized that he had made a grave error. “Wait, no,” he backpedaled desperately, waving his hands around. “M-Maybe everyone except—”

“Deku,” Kacchan growled dangerously, cracking his knuckles. His face was twisted into a snarl. “I’m not a total monster, so I’m going to give you 5 seconds’ head start before I start trying to kill you.”

Izuku gulped. “Good call,” he squeaked, and then booked it out of there at a speed that would make Iida proud. Lunch was better when enjoyed outside anyway.

After a week of everyone acting like they knew Ochaco’s secret, she and Deku finally found a savior in the form of Tsuyu Asui. Placing an oversized hand on Izuku’s shoulder, she called everyone’s attention with a “Listen up, everybody, kero!” as they spilled into the common area of the dorm after class let out Friday afternoon. Ochaco herself hung back towards the rear of the group, curious about Tsu’s serious tone. “I’ve been noticing lately that a lot of you have been teasing Midoriya-chan for what happened at the beach,” the frog girl began. “You should leave him alone. Ochaco-chan was truly in danger, and he did whatever he could to save her. I don’t think that’s something we should ridicule him for. I thought you all were better than this, making someone feel bad for doing something heroic.”

Ochaco tilted her head, confused. Why would anyone tease Deku for bringing her to shore? Through the gaps between her taller classmates, she could see the green-haired boy duck his head, hiding his face in apparent embarrassment. Curiously, everyone else seemed to be also hanging their heads. Tsu had a special talent for getting everyone to behave and listen to reason. She was like a big sister to the entire class.

“We’re sorry, Midoriya,” Kaminari spoke up. “We know you would have helped anyone if it came right down to it, not just her.” Everyone else present murmured their apologies as well.

“We didn’t mean to make you feel ashamed of doing a good thing,” Mina agreed. “It was just fun to tease you and Uraraka about it because of your super obvious crushes on each other.”

Izuku’s head whipped up, and he blinked dumbly. Ochaco, meanwhile, was frozen in place, Mina’s words echoing over and over again in her head like the ringing of a bell. Super obvious? Super obvious?

Each other?

Sero smacked her arm. “Ashido!” he hissed. “Don’t just say it out in the open!”

“Our,” said Deku with a gulp, “our super-obvious what now?...”

Jirou sighed, massaging her forehead. “Nice going, Mina.”

“What?!” the pink girl burst out defensively, throwing her arms in the air. “It’s true! We all know it!”

“Our,” murmured Izuku again, “our what?”

Kirishima smacked Ashido’s arm too. “You broke Midoriya, you jerk!”

Ochaco finally found her voice. “H-Hold on, everyone!” she said, her voice coming out a high-pitched squeak. She could feel her face flushing, but she decided she needed some questions answered whether she looked like a tomato or not. She shouldered her way through the group, standing at the front of them. “You’ve been teasing Deku? What are you talking about?!” Maybe if she asked them about that, everyone would conveniently forget what Mina had said.

“The same thing we’ve been talking about all week, silly!” Tooru said brightly. Her sleeves moved together as if she was clasping her hands in front of her chest. “The super heroic and gallant way that Midoriya saved you when you were drowning!” She sighed dreamily. “Reviving you with a kiss… it was like something out of a fairy tale…!”

“Wait, what?!” Ochaco squawked. When in the world had he revived her with a kiss? A quick glance at Deku revealed no explanation, since he was covering his face with both arms in a manner that was reminiscent of a vampire going out in the sunlight. “I… hold up, what happened?!”

“She didn’t even remember?” Sero said, and then shook his head. “Harsh. Guess it wasn’t too memorable, Midoriya. Sucks for you.”

As she stood before her classmates, flashes of sensation began to rise to the surface of Ochaco’s mind, emerging from the murk like the answer pyramid in a Magic 8 Ball. A blur of blue and white. Shouting for help. Sinking through cold darkness. Being lifted up as everything went black. Something soft against her mouth. Terrified green eyes looking down at her as her own fluttered open. Bright sunlight blinding her. Turning over sideways and coughing up water.

Her knees felt weak. “That… that…!” She held her red face between her hands. “That wasn’t a...” Dream?  she finished internally. Her thoughts whirled dizzyingly as her brain tried to reconcile what was memory and what was fantasy. Where was the overlap? Had her thoughts of him gently holding her cheek been a memory in disguise as well? Had everyone known about her first kiss before she did? Did that even count?

Kaminari smacked Mina’s arm this time. “You broke Uraraka now, too!”

“I didn’t even say anything this time!” Ashido protested. “And stop hitting me!”

“I, um,” Deku’s voice stammered, and Ochaco accidentally locked eyes with him for a second, which somehow felt like someone wrapping a hand around her heart and squeezing. He went even redder, which was an incredible feat really, and shook his head as if to dislodge an inconvenient thought. “I have to go!” he proclaimed, and before anyone could protest, he had pushed through the group and run out of Heights Alliance.

“He ran away?” Kirishima said, sounding disappointed. “That’s not very manly.”

“I can’t say I blame him,” Kaminari remarked. “That guy gets embarrassed when he sits with a girl, never mind being reminded that he kissed one.”

“It wasn’t really a kiss, though,” Jirou reminded him. “And like he said before, he would have done that for anyone that needed it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kaminari said in a singsong voice.

Ochaco stared after where Izuku had disappeared, questions zooming through her head so fast it felt like they could give her whiplash. He saved me, even more than I realized, and he never wanted to take credit? Why has he been putting up with everyone giving him a hard time because of me? Why didn’t he just tell me what happened? Does mouth-to-mouth  count  as a first kiss?

Amid the quiet chatter of her classmates, Ochaco had almost forgotten that Tsu was standing at the front of them all, too. She jumped when her friend patted her back gently.

“You should talk to him, Ochaco-chan,” she advised quietly.

Ochaco bit her lip. She had been afraid someone would say something sensible like that. “I-I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “Won’t talking about it just make things even more embarrassing for him?”

Tsuyu shook her head. “Even if it does, I think you should at least tell him thank you.” She rested her index finger on her chin thoughtfully. “After all, now you know what he’s been dealing with all week.”

She groaned in an I-know-you’re-right-and-that’s-really-annoying-sometimes kind of way. “Okay.” Taking in a deep breath, she slapped her cheeks twice to psych herself up. “I’m gonna talk to him!”

“Good luck, kero!” her friend called after her as she turned and went off in pursuit of her rescuer.

***

He looked up at her approach, but didn’t move from his spot under the large tree he liked to train near. His head jerked in a quick nod of acknowledgment.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly, looking at the ground instead of at him as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I sit?”

Izuku nodded, so she plopped herself down next to him. She could sense his shoulders stiffening at the proximity, so she scooted a few inches away. His legs were crossed, and hers stretched out flat in front of her as she rested back on the heels of her hands. If she wanted to, she could easily lay a reassuring hand on his knee. She felt that her friend might freak out if she did that, however. The grounds were quiet, save for the occasional bright twittering of birdsong, and the tree was a welcome source of shade from the harsh afternoon sunlight.

“So,” said Ochaco haltingly after a few moments of silence. “You… saved me. With rescue breathing.”

“Um...” His mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. He swallowed and tried again. “Yeah. I-I guess.”

“And ever since then,” she continued, “everybody’s been teasing you about it?”

He nodded, his freckled cheeks lighting up in a blush.

Bending her legs and scooting them towards herself, she buried her own face in her knees. “I’m so sorry. You endured all that just because I’m a dummy who couldn’t recognize a rip current...”

“It’s all right!” he said quickly, holding up his hands and waving them like spastic jazz hands. “I’m… I mean, it’s not exactly anything new. I got teased a lot more than this in middle school!”

It was just like him to instantly try to reassure her, to try to alleviate any feelings of personal blame despite him being the one who needed the comfort. She withdrew her head and smiled at him. “But this time it was my fault you got teased.”

His brows angled down, but the expression was more adorable than intimidating. “No it wasn’t,” he insisted. “You were in trouble; I helped. It’s as simple as that.”

She rested her chin on her knees. “Simple, huh,” she repeated.

They sat in silence for a while.

“Deku,” she started.

“Yeah?”

“Would you really have done that for anyone?”

She swore she could actually see him start to sweat. “I—I mean, I’ve been trained even before UA; m-my mom made me attend a seminar, so—”

“You’re not answering my question,” she pointed out.

He clenched his fists in his lap. “No,” he finally got out. “At least, I don’t think so?... I don’t know. I didn’t think about it, when it happened. I just...” His shoulders slumped, and his voice got even quieter than it had been before. “...wanted to save you.”

Ochaco wondered if that meant he really would have done it for anyone, since he generally wanted to save everyone. She hugged her knees to her chest. “Was it… strange?” she mumbled into her skin. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted the answer.

“Strange?”

“Did you…” Against her will, she felt her cheeks heating up. “Did you dislike it?”

Deku scrunched up his face in thought. “Well, I thought you were dying, so it wasn’t exactly a fun time,” he said bluntly.

A laugh burst from her before she could stop it. Deku was always completely honest, for better or worse. It made her want to be more honest, too. Maybe more honest than she’d been in a long time. She scooted her feet out again, resting her arms on her knees and tilting her head at him a little. “How about now?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do you think the idea is strange now?” She laced her fingers together. “As much as the others teased you all week, you never seemed to regret what you did.”

“That’s because I don’t.” His voice was as matter-of-fact as someone claiming that the sky was blue. “I could never regret something like that. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Her own heartbeat picked up. “Really?”

“Of course!” He sounded dismayed that she could ever think otherwise, his expression earnest. “I don’t want to lose you!”

Butterflies rapidly broke free from the cocoons she’d kept them in for too long, swirling in dizzying formations in her tummy. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she admitted, not fighting the smile that spread across her face. Maybe smiles were better when you let them happen. Maybe a lot of things were better when you let them happen. “Hey, um… Izuku.” The name felt strange but pleasant on her tongue.

His head whipped up in surprise. “Uh, yeah?”

Rather than butterflies, it felt more like frogs hopping around in there now. “It’s… kind of not fair that I’m the only one who doesn’t remember it. When you saved me.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, you didn’t really miss much.”

“I want to know how brave you were,” she continued, resting her back against the tree and looking up into the branches. Glowing sunlight spilled down through pinhole-sized gaps between the dark leaves. It reminded her of stars. “Pulling me out of the water like that. Knowing just what to do.”

The blush that seemed to spread all the way down to his neck was gratifying to her. “Y-You’re making it sound a lot better than it was,” he mumbled.

She shook her head. “Deku… I might not remember, but I can almost picture it in my head.” And oh boy, did I picture it,  she added mentally. Multiple times. Because I thought it was a dream.  “I want  to remember, though.” She wished she could just say the words that were hiding behind these ones: Make me remember. Do it again.

His face, when she glanced at it, seemed almost sad, his brows lifted and his mouth turned in a frown. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She almost laughed again, but instead just smiled. “What in the world for?”

He was rubbing the back of his neck and looking away again sheepishly. “Well, that I can’t help you remember.”

You can, though!  she shouted in her head. You very easily can, you adorable idiot! “Maybe if I drowned again, huh?” she quipped.

The horrified look on his face indicated that he hadn’t picked up on her teasing tone. “Please don’t do that!”

Ordinarily she’d just drop it as a failed joke, but he was too cute. She couldn’t resist messing with him a little. “Why not?” she said, playing at innocence. “Surely you’d just rescue me again.”

“Well of course, b-but...” He bit his lip. It made her want to kiss it. “I don’t know if I could take seeing you like that again, to be honest. I was… really scared, Uraraka.”

She remembered how terrified his eyes had looked when she blinked her own open on the beach, and instantly felt ashamed of herself for making light of it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Not knowing what else to do to reassure him, she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He froze up like he’d been hit with Todoroki’s ice Quirk, but he didn’t move away. “Hey, Deku,” she said then, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. Her heart pounded. There was something else she wanted to say, and though she felt it was no longer wise to swallow important words, she still had no idea whether she’d have the guts to say them. “What if I told you I was drowning right now?”

“Huh?” he said, perplexed. “But… we’re not in the water.”

“I can’t breathe,” she told him, her fist closing around a handful of grass. “My lungs feel like they’re getting squeezed. My heart’s shriveling up, and my vision’s tunneling.”

“A-Are you all right?!” he stammered, turning to grab her shoulders and give her a little shake. “Should I take you to the nurse?”

She shook her head. “I don’t need a nurse.” Ducking her head to hide the blush on her cheeks, she finally got it out: “I just need you.”

He stared at her.

She waited.

“Huh?” he said.

Ochaco sighed, frustrated, and grabbed his shoulders in return. Izuku , I love you, but you are such a dummy sometimes. “I’m telling you I’m drowning right now! Save me!”

Izuku squinted at her like she was a complicated math problem. “But you’re not—” And then comprehension dawned across his face, his eyes widening to the size of saucers and his mouth dropping open. “...Oh,” he squeaked, a flush coloring his face up to his ears. His fingers, still on her shoulders, started to tremble.

She just glared at him, refusing to break eye contact. “Running out of time here,” she prompted him. “I’ll be dead in 3… 2—”

His lips were on hers, and it was a good thing she wasn’t actually drowning, because all the air froze in her lungs and for a moment she forgot what it was to breathe. He was soft, so soft, and warm, and gentle, and everything. She leaned into the touch, lifting her chin and returning the light pressure.

It was over far too soon. Her eyes fluttered open, and the green ones that met hers were terrified this time, too, as he dropped her shoulders like she’d burned him. “What do you look so scared for?” she giggled. “I mean, I thought it was obvious, but I’m not actually dying.”

“You’re not mad?” Deku asked, surprised.

Ochaco tilted her head. “Why would I be mad?”

“I—I didn’t do the wrong...” He shook his head and started over. “Was that the right thing to do?”

She bumped her forehead into his. “Yes. You always do the right thing.”

“You actually, um, wanted me to—?” The voice that was spilling out was timid and halting, and he was so close that she could easily capture him in another kiss if she wanted to (and she did want to).

“I wanted you to,” she confirmed.

“Oh,” he said simply, his eyes flitting away from hers. “Good. Um… me too.”

Was that his strange, Deku way to say that he’d wanted to kiss her, too? She smiled at him and reached over to take his hand. It was rough and gnarled beneath her fingers, not at all matching the softness of its owner. “Thanks for saving me,” she whispered.

His hand curled around hers in response. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he said once more.

And he did.


This all felt eerily familiar, the way his feet were pounding against the ground as he sprinted down the path and all the frantic screaming in his mind. It was too much like the day he lost his family. For a moment, he thought that Zenitsu was guaranteed to be dead when he finds him and the world will sink in on itself just like before. But thinking like that never got him anywhere, it only made him spiral and he had no time to do that. He needs to be optimistic, that’s what his mother used to say to him. Despair won’t get you anywhere but hope will take you everywhere.

Th gems on the wall slowly began to disappear and the path darkened. Tanjirou gulped, shutting his eyes as he tried to trace the smell of peaches through the mines. Finally, he made into the largest chamber, the walls entirely made of gemstones and in the middle laid Zenitsu, face down.

“Zenitsu!” Tanjirou exclaimed, rushing forward and kneeled next to him. He wrapped his arms around him, checking him over. The blonde was covered in bruises and cuts, blood coming out of his head, arms and legs. His haori was stained red and Tanjirou shook with anger, “Oh baby no…” He caressed his cheek, trying to wipe away the blood.

Zenitsu groaned, whimpering in pain before slowly opening his eyes. Gold met ruby and he whispered, “T-Tanjirou…?”The redhead let out a small sob of relief, pressing their foreheads together with a shaky smile, “Yeah, sunshine, I’m here. I’m here now, everything is going to be okay. Thank god you’re alive…!”Zenitsu seemed to be processing for a moment, not entirely being sure where he was. Suddenly his eyes widened and he started pushing against Tanjirou. crying out, “Go…! You ha-have to leave, you need to leave…!”“What? No! I just found you again, I’m not leaving!” Tanjirou argued, holding him tighter, “I’m not leaving you; I love you!”The blonde stared for a moment before he started to cry, still trying to push him away, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I was too weak and now you’re here and…! You have to run, Tanjirou!”“What?”

There was a sudden bang and a sharp pain ripped through Tanjirou’s shoulder, the force sending him to the floor. He shouted out before suddenly being hit in the ribs roughly, sending him careening into the wall. As he thumped into the ground, he shakily tried to get up, the aching of his chest making him wince. He saw a figure walk towards Zenitsu with a cackle, swinging around a gun on a finger while carrying a large mace.

“Oh, that was too easy! Do you realize how easy it was to do that?! I just had to put the guy in front of you and you were already charging in without even looking anywhere else!” The demon grabbed onto Zenitsu’s hair, pulling him up roughly and the blonde whined out, wincing, “Good job, blondie.”He grits his teeth as he looks at Tanjirou, “I’m so sorry…!”

The demon huffed, throwing Zenitsu onto the ground and giving the redhead a smile, “So you are the famous demon slayer with the hanafuda earrings! I have heard so much about you. Word gets out fast in the demon world.  Especially when a mere human is on the radar of the Big Man in charge? That’s almost impressive. I want to know what makes you so important. The names Katsuro. You’ll want to know that when you scream for your life.”Tanjirou stood up, gripping his sword and choosing not to answer, instead rushing forward as fast as he could. He slashed down quickly at the demon, but he wasn’t there. He looked around, frantically trying to figure out where he went.

“Behind you.”

Katsuro swung his mace down hard, sending Tanjirou flying before he hit the ground. The sound of something cracking made Tanjirou wince. That was definitely a rib. He took labour breaths and stood up shakily, gripping his sword so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“Oooh, you’re getting back up! So you’re not a wimp!” Katsuro taunted, smirking, “But you’re definitely not going to be able to hit me though. See, there’s this thing I can do that’s really helpful. It’s teleportation and your human legs can’t keep up with that.”Tanjirou gritted his teeth, replying, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

The redhead rushed forward again, only to be shot in the shoulder. He screamed out, gripping onto the wound as he started to bleed. Katsuro grinned, shooting more bullets that embedded into Tanjirou’s arm. He bit his lip hard enough to bleed and he had to transfer his sword to his other hand. Panting, he stood his ground.

“Just come at me!” he shouted, his arm shaking.

“Well if you insist.” Katsuro mused before disappearing.

Tanjirou shuts his eyes, trying to focus on the demonic smell and where it was. Breathe, take a deep breath and focus. The smell seemed to move around all over the chamber, until he could sense it next to him. He quickly blocked an incoming hit from the mace, smirking. Katsuro didn’t even flinch as he shot a bullet into Tanjirou’s collarbone, making him stumble back. He barely had a moment before he was suddenly being hit across the ground. Katsuro kept teleporting back and forth, hitting the redhead with his mace over and over again like he was some sort of ball. Tanjirou could feel his bones crack, hitting the ground with a splat as he coughed. As he panted, he saw blood on the ground and he gulped, feeling it run down his chin.

“Aw, does the little demon slayer have enough?” the demon mocked, swinging his mace around his finger.

Tanjirou shakily got up, spitting out some blood that pooled in his mouth as he replied, “Not even a little.”He stood up to try and use a special attack, but he was hit in the face with the mace and fell to the ground, groaning in pain.

Katsuro walked over to him, kicking him onto the ground when he tried to get up, “You’re nothing special. You can barely last ten minutes in a fight with me and you’ve barely even hit me. Face it. You’re not really a demon slayer. You’re just a kid who’s trying to grow up.” He stepped on top of Tanjirou, grinding his foot into his ribs, “You’re not even a challenge.” The demon smirked as he grabbed onto the redhead’s arm, twisting it painfully as Tanjirou screamed in pain, “You’re weak.” He gripped harder before suddenly snapping it, the sound reverberating in the room, “You’re nothing.” As Katsuro went to break Tanjirou’s other arm, he was suddenly grabbed.

“S-Stop! Leave him alone!” Zenitsu panted out, trembling on his legs as he struggled to stay up. He fumbled with his sword, his fingers too broken to hold onto it.

The demon seemed amused, turning to meet the blonde’s angry eyes, “I’m surprised you can still stand. Especially after what I put you through. It hurt so bad that you begged for it to end, and yet here you are, defying me and trying to save your cute little boytoy. What happened to that fear?”Zenitsu gritted his teeth, “I love him more than I am scared of being hurt by you.”

Katsuro stared for a moment before laughing loudly, grabbing onto Zenitsu’s hair roughly and throwing him down, “Big mistake.” He kneeled over him, grabbing onto his leg. Then, with a crack, he broke Zenitsu’s leg. The blonde screamed, sobbing as Katsuro grabbed the other leg and broke that too, “You’re both so foolish! Risking everything just to save one person! And you just get hurt because of it. Sacrificing everything for one person. How fucking stupid.” The demon stood up, staring Zenitsu down, “You should’ve feared me more, blondie-!”

In a moment, a blade flashed through the demon’s neck and suddenly he was kicked to the side, with Tanjirou glaring at him.

“You talk too much.”

The redhead panted, a wave of exhaustion washing over him as he fell to his knees and onto the ground. Groaning, he tried to look at Zenitsu, who was trying to crawl to him, despite his broken legs.“Tanjirou!” he exclaimed, grabbing onto the ground and pulled himself over, “Y-You came for me…!”“Of course I did! I will always come for you!” Tanjirou replied, tears in his eyes as he as used his good arm to touching Zenitsu’s hair softly, “Always.”

Zenitsu gave him a tired smile, leaning in and kissing the corner of his lips, “Thank you…for saving me.”“Thank you for saving me.” The redhead said, pressing his lips on Zenitsu’s cheek lovingly, “You really did.”

“No… no no no no no no no nO NO NO NO NO!” The duo turned their heads to see the demon’s head on the floor screaming angrily, practically foaming at the mouth, “THIS IS NOT HOW I WAS MEANT TO END! I WASN’T SUPPOSE TO DIE BECAUSE OF TWO STUPID LOVESICK BRATS! NO! I WON’T GO DONW LIKE THIS!” Suddenly, what remained of his body pulled out a large button, “IF I’M DYING, I’M TAKING YOU ALL DOWN WITH ME!” Katsuro grinned with a manic expression as he pressed the button and above them, something detonated and the ceiling began to crumble. Distantly, another explosion was heard. “Everyone in my group has a detonator! Soon, this entire mine will go down! Have fun dying you shits!”

Tanjirou watched as the demon disappeared and frantically started to get up, “We need to get out, now!” He groaned at the pain in his ribs, trying to ignore it as he grabbed Zenitsu and tried to pull him up. Struggling, he started to drag him, “C’mon, let’s go!”

Zenitsu tried to get up using his arms, but he could barely even keep his head up as he slowly realized something, “Tanjirou. Tanjirou! It’s no use! I can’t run, or even stand! You need to go!”“What?! No way! I’m not leaving you here!”

“I’ll just slow you down! Please, you have to go!”“No! I’m not going to leave you!” Tanjirou shouted, tears welling up as he furiously tried to pull Zenitsu towards the exit of the chamber. Exhaustion screamed in his bones and he collapsed, landing onto his broken arm, making him cry out in pain.

“Tanjirou! Stop! You’re hurting yourself; you need to stop trying, please!” The blonde exclaimed, sobbing, “Tanjirou!”The redheard covered his face, trying to force himself up, “No no no no no! I’m not going to! I refuse! I can’t lose someone I love again! I can’t do it! I won’t be able to handle it!”

“Sweetheart…” Tanjirou fell quiet at that, shaking with sobs and Zenitsu crawled over to him, cupping his face, “Sweetheart, look at me.” The redhead shook his head furiously, trying to pull Zenitsu forward and keep going, biting his lips to keep him from crying out, “Tanjirou, sweetheart…my love. Look at me.”

Defeated, Tanjirou looked up, shaking as he said, “I can’t…I can’t lose you too…I’m not ready to lose this! It’s not enough time…!”Zenitsu nodded slowly, pressing their foreheads together, trying to breathe through the pain, “I know…I know…”

“It’s not fair! I just want one thing to stay! One thing! Everything keeps disappearing or changing and I…I’m so tired of losing…” the redhead whispered, raising his only good arm up and touching Zenitsu’s cheek, breathing in the peaches and letting the blonde press a kiss on his scar.

“I know.” Zenitsu pulled back a bit, eyes softening as tears streaked down his face, “Sweetheart…I love you. I love you so much, more than anything else in the world. You know that…You know I’ll always love you no matter what happens.”

“Mmhm…I love you too. So please, just live for me! We need leave together!” Tanjirou argued, trying to find the strength to pull Zenitsu up, but he could barely even stand, “God damn it! Damn it!”

The blonde gently pulled Tanjirou in, hugging him close as he pressed kisses into his neck. The world was crumbling around them, the sounds of the other bombs going off in the distance. The pair held each other, sobbing at the thought that this could be the way they end.

“Tanjirou! Zenitsu!” Their eyes shot up, looking at the entrance to the chamber to see Shinobu, looking haggard and ragged. She ran over, looking frantic, “Can either of you stand?!” Zenitsu shook his head and Tanjirou struggled to, but couldn’t seem to get his legs to move. The pillar looked between the two of them, looking worried, “I-I’m only strong enough to carry one of you, oh no…”

Tanjirou could see the gears turning in Zenitsu’s arm, “Zenitsu, no! No, you’re not!”The blonde looked up at Shinobu with pleading eyes, “Shinobu, please take Tanjirou and get out of here. Please.”“A-Are you sure?” she asked, and Zenitsu nodded with the most serious expression.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay.” Shinobu bent down and lifted Tanjirou up, making the boy try and thrash, but have no energy to do so.

“Shinobu! Shinobu, stop! No!” he exclaimed, hitting his fist against her back, but not affecting her, “Zenitsu, no! Please! Please don’t do this!”The blonde smiled sadly at him, crying as he reached up, caressing his cheek, “I love you, Tanjirou Kamado…” He pulled him in, kissing him deeply, making Tanjirou sob against his lips and cling harder onto him before being ripped away as Shinobu ran towards the exit.

As they ran away, it felt like the world was in slow motion and it didn’t feel real for a moment. Tanjirou saw the rocks falling slowly as Zenitsu sat in the middle of the chamber, watching them go with tears and a sad smile. He barely registered his own screaming, his own thrashing, nothing seemed to be processed. Just the fact that his entire world has once again, been uprooted and crushed. He just kept losing.

Shinobu saw the exit from the mines and dove for it, sending Tanjirou flying into Inosuke, who had been staying at the entrance with a worried expression, half-tempted to run back in. The rumbling finally stopped and everyone could take a breather, for just a moment.

Inosuke looked around, counting the Pillars, with Nezuko on Obanai’s back and then Tanjirou. They were all here, except…

“Monjirou? Where is Tenistu?” he asked, looking at his friend who seemed to be in shock, staring at nothing as he cried silently, “Monjirou?”

Tanjirou shakily lifted his head up, turning to look at the mine entrance, how blocked up it was, how much stuff had been falling. He seemed to slowly process again and he let out a blood-curdling scream, sobs wrecking his body as he slammed himself into Inosuke, who seemed to catch on as he looked at the mine in horror.

“ZENITSU!”


Frigga climbs down the roots of Yggdrasil that will lead her into the cave of the Norns and, for what must be the tenth time, she almost loses her footing on the bark that is wet and slippery from the moisture rising up from the well in the cave. She reaches for a crevice in the thick roots, trying to steady herself, and a trembling breath of frustration escapes her lips. To visit those who weave the threads of fate for all beings in the Nine Worlds is a strenuous journey from Asgard even when one is in the best of health, for their lair is the only place that the Aesir cannot access with the help of the Bifröst or through portals. No one should be encouraged to seek out the counsel of the Norns on a whim and the hardship the Gods have to take upon themselves to arrive there ensures that the journey is not taken unless dire hardship demands it.

The Queen herself has never traveled to the Norn cave before and she feels the strain of the voyage in every fiber of her being because she is not in the best of health. Her attempts to determine the origin of the black magic the Enchantress used to poison her youngest son have almost drained her mental strength and she is beginning to suspect that the crystal containing the dark magic she has been carrying with her for the past three days is depleting her physical strength. It is not poisoning her as it poisoned Loki but having been subjected to its black energy is taking its toll nonetheless.

Her head is dull and aching. Her vision is fuzzy at the edges. Her knees are weak.

She feels ill prepared descending into the cave but she knows that she must carry on. That she owes it to her son not to return home without an answer. Not that anyone ever feels prepared for a visit of such significance, she muses, for the Norns instill such awe in even the strongest of the Gods that Odin himself dared to travel here only once during his reign as Allfather, to ask the Norns’ advice concerning another truth that she helped him conceal by manipulating Asgard’s memory with her sorcery, and his body was still trembling upon his return to the palace.

That recollection, along with the realization of what their secrecy did to Loki’s mental wellbeing, sits heavy on her chest. Until a few days ago, Frigga has always obeyed her husband’s and king’s commands in the firm belief that he meant to protect his children and keep them out of harm’s way. She still doesn’t doubt that Odin loves all of them, in his own distant manner that comes from having to watch over everything that transpires across Nine Realms, but Thor has helped her see that, sometimes, love such as this alone is not enough. Especially not when it prompted her to withhold a truth from Loki that she knew he would have desired just because she was afraid to lose his trust and his love. It wasn’t until Thor blatantly asked Odin who he was to decide what mattered and did not matter to Loki that Frigga realized she had done harm too, even if she had acted out of what she thought of as love. Yet, that kind of love, her kind of love, is not what Loki needs after the revelation because no amount of love she has for Loki will ever restore the relationship they had before the painful truth of his lineage came to light in such a way. No, what her youngest needs at this moment is not the love of a mother who lied to him but the boisterous, unconditional, unprejudiced love of a brother that Thor carries inside of him and that allows him to be befriend the unlikeliest of creatures with a bewildering ease.

Frigga knows that Loki now needs Thor more than he needs her and the knowledge gnaws at the core of her existence but, despite the sorrows thrashing in her chest, her lips curl into a smile when she tries to bear in mind how protective Thor has always been of his little brother. She still fondly remembers the first time Thor laid eyes upon him, remembers how his small face lit up with a giant smile when he stretched out his little hand and touched Loki’s cheek, marveling at its warmth and promising his baby brother, in a solemn whisper, to keep him safe.

And he has abided by that promise all his life. Thor has always kept Loki safe.

Her sons could not possibly be more different and, yes, they fight constantly, especially now that Loki has grown increasingly suspicious of his identity and his place in the world and sometimes takes it out on Thor, which Thor does not understand because he is too young to imagine how life could possibly be difficult for anyone. Yet, despite all the fighting and despite all the insults flying back and forth between them, despite Loki’s tricks and Thor’s explosive temper, Thor has always tried to keep Loki safe. He has always looked out for him, always protected him from anyone who deliberately or unconsciously meant him harm.

Anyone.

Including Odin.

Including herself.

Frigga marvels at how much Thor has emotionally matured in the past years without her truly noticing and she feels a pain of regret stabbing into her chest when she realizes that she has underestimated her eldest. Thor is not usually the one to rely on his wit but his reaction to Loki’s Jötunn heritage has proven to her that he is very smart and very capable of handling emotionally challenging situations in ways she didn’t catch on to before. She knows it is unfair to wish for this because her firstborn should not carry such a responsibility but, still, she prays to Thor in silence. Please, my love, ensure that the revelation does not tip Loki’s mind over the edge. You are the only one who can do that. Right now, you are the only one who can make him feel genuinely loved. Please do not fail him as we did.

As if some higher power decides to punish the Queen of Asgard for such an atrocious thought, she once more slips on the wet bark, finally losing her footing and sliding down the thick root. A hawk cries out somewhere in the branches of Yggdrasil above her and then swoops down, flapping its enormous wings. She blindly tries to find another crevice in the bark, trying to decelerate her fall, trying to focus her energies at the same time, but the hawk is right next to her now, its piercing gaze meeting hers for the fraction of a second before it snatches the little sachet she has tied to her leather belt away with its beak and then takes wing again with an almost mocking screech.

Frigga attempts to shapeshift into a bird herself on impulse because that guise would allow her to chase after the hawk that just stole from her the black crystal in which Loki’s magic is stored but she is still sliding down the slippery roots of Yggdrasil, trying to regain her footing and there does not seem to be a crevice left in the bark for her hands to hook into and her burned-out glamour stubbornly refuses to comply with her silent demands, and she is sliding, sliding, sliding, sliding, ever further down, until she lands feet first on the hard rock soil of the Norn cave, splintering both of her ankles upon the impact.

“We have a visitor,” announces Urᵭr, one of the three main fate weavers, in a high-pitched voice that bounces off the walls of stone, creating an eerie echo.

We have a visitor … ave a visitor … visitor … isitor …

“Is this what I think it is?” Thor exclaims as he fishes a little dark-brown leather pouch out of the treasure chest that Loki has kept hidden behind a row of books. He holds the pouch up by its drawstring, dangling it in front of his face, but there is no doubt really, is there, for his brother has prefaced his imperative to retrieve the chest with the words, “Speaking of dwarves.”

A smirk ghosts Loki’s dark blue lips.

“You possess one of Eitri’s pouches?” Thor continues, awe overwhelming him. “How did you come by this?”

“That doesn’t matter, does it?” Loki asks on a shrug, taking another sip of the wine he claimed to be so tasteless.

“Yes, it does,” Thor replies. “Does mother know you have this?”

Loki bursts out in a cackling laugh, almost spluttering his drink.

“Granted, that last question was rather foolish,” Thor admits. “But honestly, where did you find this? I am willing to help you but I am expecting you to trust me.” He locks eyes with his brother, flashing him a challenging smirk. “We cannot go on as we did before.”

“Fine.” Loki blows out a breath. “I stole it.”

Thor’s jaw drops. “From whom?”

“From the King of Alfheim,” Loki admits. “The prince bragged about it being in his father’s possession after a few sips of mead too many at the feast held after the last diplomatic reception.”

Thor grimaces at the memory of that reception because he is certain that none of the attendees will ever forget the glorious sight of the God of Thunder suddenly wearing a flowing white bridal gown in their midst. It looked so real, the Lady Sif told him later, barely containing her laughter. Loki is truly mastering the art of sorcery. You even had flowers in your hair. Pink flowers. That shenanigan enraged the God of Thunder to such an extent that he did not speak a word to his little brother for four whole days, punishing him with silence because silence is what unsettles Loki the most. But thinking of the incident now, while simultaneously seeing his brother in his Jötunn form, chained to his bed, confronted with his own vulnerability, his otherness, he can’t be angry anymore, not even a little.

No, instead of anger, a sense of dread is submerging him once more, for the pouch that he is holding is one of five leather pouches that Eitri once crafted at Bor’s command and that allow its holder to soak up all the magic in the vicinity to store it and later unleash it for all kinds of purposes. After his father’s death, Odin grew increasingly wary of such power until he forbade their use and demanded all five of them to be found and stored in the vault of Asgard. Four of them have been found long ago. The location of the last has been a mystery to this day. And isn’t it quite typical that his mischievous little brother is the one who has stumbled upon it after all this time? Well, stumbled upon it might be a little too generous an expression. “So you just traveled to Alfheim and stole it from them?” Thor asks, the questions tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. “How did you do that? And why? And why didn’t you hand it to father? You know how dangerous these are.”

“I thought it might be useful to have in the future and, lo and behold, it is becoming quite useful in this very moment,” Loki replies with a self-satisfied grin, ignoring the rest of Thor’s questions entirely.

“Wh-why, what do you want me to do?” Thor asks.

Loki draws a sharp breath before he replies. “I want you to take it to the Hall of Yggdrasil, soak up a little of the World Tree’s magic and bring the pouch back to me so that I can absorb it to restore my strength.”

“A little of the World Tree’s magic?” Thor echoes. “You must be insane, brother. I can’t possibly open this pouch in the Hall of Yggdrasil. What if all of its magic streams into that pouch? What if the pouch is going to tear open or Asgard is going to implode? This is impossible.”

“You just have to be gentle,” Loki tells him. “Just open it a tiny little bit and then close it again as soon as you felt some of it stream into the pouch.”

“Gentle,” Thor repeats, snorting the word out. “You very well know that being gentle is not among those characteristics I excel at. What makes you think I could close it again even if I wanted to? We can’t risk that.”

“Do you actually remember what you said to me only moments ago?” Loki asks, a faint shimmer enveloping him, and the Thundergod’s jaw drops when the shimmer turns into a semi-translucent, well, almost translucent illusion of his own face that overlays the facial features of his brother. “Nothing could ever change the fact that I would do everything for you,” Loki repeats in Thor’s voice. “I am beginning to think we have a different understanding of the scope of everything,” he adds, his voice transforming back into his own.

“What do you need Yggdrasil’s magic for, anyway?” Thor asks, the realization suddenly clattering into his mind with the force of a cannon ball. I have sustained the prince’s body with healing glamour. It will not replenish his strength but it will keep him alive. “You are using magic right now.”

“What?” Loki asks back, his confusion manifesting itself as a blank stare. “I am not using magic? What are you talking about?”

“Alright, that’s enough wine for you, little brother,” Thor decides and snatches the mug out of Loki’s hands.

“Hey,” Loki complains. “Give that back.”

“What do you know about healing glamour?” Thor asks, holding the mug out of his reach and feeling a childish and possibly very misplaced satisfaction in response to Loki’s feeble attempts to reach for the mug.

Loki’s expression transforms into a question mark. “What? Why?”

Thor smirks, waiting for the moment he is going to be able to rub it in his smart little brother’s face that he has figured something out before him. “Just answer the question.”

Loki breathes out his annoyance in an overdramatic sigh. “Healing Seiᵭr is not like other types of magic. It is … Let me just think of how to explain this to someone as dense as you,” he says and Thor does not even bother with hiding the smirk that is widening across his face, tugging at his lips. “It is a type of fuel that preserves you, ensuring that your bodily functions will not fail, but its name is quite misleading, for healing glamour cannot truly heal you unless it coalesces with …” His mouth gapes open as the realization trickles into his consciousness. “It will only heal you when it taps into the magic you already possess. It can’t … The flame of Asgard,” Loki continues, his eyes widening as the wheels of his mind finally begin to turn again at a dazzling speed. “It’s a spark of Yggdrasil’s magic in its pure, unharnessed form,” he whispers and then delivers an explanation for what Thor has figured out even though he doesn’t quite understand the workings behind it. “He did not transform me into an Aesir. He must have hid my true form beneath the mightiest glamour in all the Realms we have access to and then layered the spell turning me Asgardian over it.”

“Which means that the barrier of magic concealing your Jötunn form was so strong that whatever poison Amora gave you did not penetrate it,” Thor replies, still holding the mug too high for Loki to reach it.

“The Jötunn magic I was born with, the magic that Odin concealed, was not infested, no, but the barrier, as you call it, was. Otherwise Odin wouldn’t have had to lift that spell as well but still I am using my natural powers right now,” Loki concludes, his lips standing slightly open until he speaks again. “The ones I never even knew I had. That’s why I am even awake!”

“Someone as dense as me, huh?” Thor echoes, playfully punching Loki’s arm with a little more force than he has intended. “I thought of that before you did!”

“And you won’t ever let me forget that, will you?” Loki grumbles, his face twisting into a grimace, and the God of Thunder cannot tell whether it does so because he is in physical pain or because he is humiliated.

“Not ever,” Thor confirms, handing the mug back to his little brother with one hand and petting his head with the other. “But well done. You passed the test.”

“Stop it,” Loki hisses and then takes a long drink, keeping the sweet liquid in his mouth before swallowing it, pausing thoughtfully. “But you’re right,” he says eventually. “Forget Yggdrasil. I need sustenance.” His eyes linger on the mug in his hands for a moment. “Real sustenance.” He glances up at Thor, a flicker of determination in his blood-red eyes. “I am afraid you’ll have to fetch me some ice.”