Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

His breaths came in shallow pants, his chest heaving with effort as he weaved through the foggy thicket at breakneck speed.

Anxiety and adrenaline coursed through his veins with urgency, pulsating in a never-ending din.

He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. He’d already been on the run for weeks now with little rest. But that was the nature of the game for 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔 like him.

Once a hunter caught your scent, they never let you escape. Especially not this one. This one, in particular, was born and bred for the hunt. He was a killing machine and stopped at nothing to execute his mark.

From the moment they’d breathed their first breath, those of the Shimura clan did nothing but thrive on the hunt. They were crafted throughout centuries and trained in the intimate art of killing celestial beings, monsters, and elementals. Anything that wasn’t human, or of the like.

Tenko Shimura was one such hunter and Katsuki happened to be the one unlucky bastard to fall into his crosshairs.

A shot is fired off, not far from behind, reigniting his need for haste.

The motherfucker was literally keeping up with him on horseback.

Horseback.

Was this the fucking dark ages?

On any normal night, Katsuki could outrun a mustang with no problem, but the unfortunate thing about hunters… was that they played dirtier than most monsters ever would.

The douche bag literally shot him in the back with a silver bullet laced with wolfsbane just a week prior. If it’d been anything more than a lucky graze, he’d be dead now from the toxicity alone.

But as luck would have it, his family had their own age-old ways of combating hunters throughout generations passed.

His kind were no strangers to living like nomads. It was a way of life. Evading hunters was instinct. A skill forged over years of training. Years of discipline. It was ingrained into his every fiber. His very being. Stitched into the inner workings of his wolfborn soul. It was survival.

The antidote was something that was passed down and ingrained into wolfborn children from an early age and it was the only reason he was alive today.

But the wolf knew he wouldn’t be able to take another hit, not so soon after barely recovering from his previous unlucky encounter with the hunter.

His pulse quickens yet again as another silver bullet, no doubt laced with wolfsbane, zipped past his hairline. Much too close for his comfort.

As bullets continued to rain around him from behind, he came to one grim conclusion.

He only had one option.

It’d be stupid to do it now, at a time like this, but he had no other choice.

He was at a severe disadvantage in his human-esque form.

If he wanted to find his way out of this mess, he would have to do it.

He would have to shift.

The further he ran into the dense vaporous boscage, the harder it would be to evade his assailant.

He had to make this count.

The shift, though normally seamless, was not without its discomfort on normal nights. But with his previously injured shoulder blade, pain lit within him that was akin to liquid magma.

Now down on all fours, Katsuki broke into a sprint, despite his body aching in protest.

His drive to survive steered him into an open clearing, where his paws pounded against the grassy range.

But Tenko would not let up.

Though now much further behind him, the hunter kept a leisurely pace. One of self-assurance. One of endurance. He was so confident he’d catch him that he wasn’t even trying now.

That alone chilled the very blood surging through Katsuki’s veins, allowing something more primal within him to awaken.

The more this dragged on, the worse it would become. Even under perfect conditions, he was at a severe disadvantage on a new moon night.

That wasn’t even factoring in his injuries.

He knew the hunter knew this.

He was clearly trying to wear him out and lead him into a trap he couldn’t escape from, before he ultimately tortured and killed him, just like he'd done to his parents.

He was royally fucked either way he looked at it. So he may as well go down fighting.

His decision then, was made.

In a fit of desperation and probably stupidity, Katsuki turned on his heels and stopped dead in his tracks. Igniting that wolven instinct to fight.

He was a wolfborn damnit.

He had his fucking pride.

He refused to be corralled any longer by a human.

He was the apex predator.

He was in his element out here in the wild, injured or not.

He was every bit as imposing as any other werewolf from legends passed and he would not be taken down so easily.

He had one chance.

There, in the misted haze of the open field, with burning orbs of scarlet, the wolf; bloodied, dusty blond of fur, hackles raised, stood his ground as the hunter grinned cruelly and urged his steed onward, no doubt aiming for a killshot.

Utilizing his one chance, the wolf breaks into yet another harrowing sprint.

Speeding forward as pain spreads throughout him, ducking through a hail of gunfire, he lunges for the stallion.

Sinking his powerful jaws into its left hind fetlock, he slices through its flesh with his sharp fangs, startling the massive animal into a buck, effectively throwing Shimura from his saddle and onto the field below.

Landing harshly, the dazed hunter rolls to avoid being trampled by his frightened horse.

Katsuki immediately lets go as the startled colt begins to thrash and retaliate in panic, kicking out with its powerful hooves.

Using this final window of opportunity, the wolf flees into the treeline, as if the devil himself were hot on his heels.

Katsuki didn’t know how long he'd been running, but it felt like days.

He didn’t even know where he was, much too delirious with pain.

He'd definitely been hit again.

Right in the same spot.

He needed to stop and treat himself.

But he didn't feel safe enough to stop yet.

He would have to endure.

He’d wandered in the dense dark forest for what felt like a millennia.

Until a light, so ethereal in nature, akin to the call of the moon itself, shone through the crisp foggy haze. Illuminating the cosp around him.

This light was so resplendent, it stood in stark contrast to the obsidian darkness encroaching upon it, attempting to greedily swallow it whole.

Katsuki couldn’t think of it as anything other than 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍.

Like a moth to a flame, he slowed his aching pace and followed its beckoning call.

And he was met with a sight unlike any he’s ever seen.

Like a spectre from legends of old, only truly known through stories told by firelight, a figure, wispy of being and blank of expression, hovered before him like an apparition.

A ghostly beacon in the dark.

He limps forward, his paws weary as he stops before the spirit.

As Katsuki finally succumbed to the agony of his overtaxed wound, he couldn’t help but see the figure; led by lantern light, yet a glowing source of its own, gently smile.

And as this angel of death flowed gracefully ever nearer, he couldn’t help but feel safe as the obsidian darkness finally took him.

A hiss tears from his dry lips as something highly unpleasant lances his shoulder, in a panic he begins to thrash about violently.

“Whoa! Hey, hey! It's okay, young one! Easy now, easy! It’s infected, I have to drain it,” a voice calls out from above him, the looming figure attempting to keep him restrained, with what felt like cool gloved hands.

A floral scent about his captor piques his interest.

“Y-you’re undead?” He rasps out, his throat raw and sore from disuse.

The man above him chuckles awkwardly, “I’m a friend. And definitely of no threat to you, young one.” The man eases his hold on him with a gentle pat, applying what smelled like iodine to his reopened wound.

“Tch, as if I’d consider an undead a threat anyway,” he scoffs, feeling oddly exposed in the presence of this stranger.

“Ah well, we can’t all be as imposing as your… hunter friend had been, am I right?” He quips back, with an almost ‘fatherly’ laugh.

“Shit..." Katsuki sighs reluctantly, having the decency to look at least a little abashed, "look… thanks for the help, but I can get by on my own,” he mutters firmly, attempting yet again to pull away from the man.

The undead simply holds him there with an inhuman strength.

“Nuh-uh, not on my watch. You aren’t going anywhere until that wolfsbane is cleared from your system. The wound may only have been a graze, but the poison has spread and is ravaging you internally. You barely made it. You've been unconscious for 3 nights,” the man counters, crouching down to meet him at eye level.

Molten scarlet meets milky-cobalt, a telltale sign of the undead he was.

Only momentarily distracted, something clicks in the young wolf’s mind.

“Fuck… I've been out for 3 nights?!” Katsuki shouts in a panic.

“Did you miss the part where I said you almost died? Yes, my boy,” the undead pointedly relays, “you were delirious when he found you. The fever took you soon after. You were quite lucky to have fallen into such capable hands. You were brought here, to my mortuary, where we’ve looked after you ever since.”

“He, who? ...Mortuary?” Katsuki ponders aloud, his brow pinched in confusion and unease.

“My protegé. A friend and fellow undertaker,” the man explains.

Katsuki wonders about that.

He didn’t remember much, but he began to recall one thing he could never forget.

A ghostly green light in the darkness.

The beauty of it.

The safety.

And a gentle smile on an otherwise blank face.

No true distinct features, other than glowing emerald eyes.

“Listen, young one,” the undead appeals to him, “this is the safest place you could have ended up in, I assure you. By day, this place is nothing more than a run-of-the-mill mortuary, where I assist the living in burying their dead, and where my protegé designs and builds customary coffins. But by night, this is a home. A refuge, so to speak, for beings of all kith and kin. 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔 like you and I. And you are welcome here, for as long as you’d like,” the undead explains.

“What’s the catch?” Katsuki grunts suspiciously.

“None to speak of,” milky-cobalt eyes shine in earnest, “we only ask that you tell no one of this place should you leave here. While we are in the business of helping others, we… uh,” he laughs sheepishly, “don’t exactly advertise.”

Katsuki eyes the man; he was a tall lanky thing, blond of hair, eyes of milky-cobalt, which were undoubtedly as blue as the ocean when he’d been alive. His scent, that of posies and spell-crafted herbs.

He couldn’t detect even a hint of dishonesty in his voice.

The wolf exhales a sigh through his nose, weighing his options.

This man and his apparent ‘protegé,' as it were, could have left him to die like a dog in those woods. But instead, they brought him here, saved his life, and have been tending to him, for days it would seem.

As he ruminated over this, Katsuki could find no motive for them to be anything other than what the undead said they were.

“I’ll stay until I heal… and no later,” he finally agrees.

The undead offers him a kind smile and a hand to shake. “Welcome to the Underwood Asylum, my name is Toshinori Yagi.”

As it turned out; this ‘protegé’ of Toshinori's was just some skittish human kid, which in itself… was odd as fuck.

Why a human would willingly want to hang out with anything that wanted to eat brains, was beyond him.

But that wasn’t the weirdest part. And mind you, Katsuki has seen all manner of weirdness in his lifetime. But this was new.

This kid had no scent.

Not even a whiff to speak of.

He’d noticed it immediately when the boy had nervously introduced himself and again when he offered to dress his wounds.

What was weirder still, was that although this kid greatly resembled what he’d seen in the woods that night; what with his striking viridian eyes and mop of verdant curls, sans the glowing wisps and grim reaper vibe, he looked totally normal.

It was kind of a letdown.

He wasn’t 𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 or phantom-esque at all.

And he sure as shit wasn’t any badass angel of death, either.

Nevertheless, his interest was piqued.

As Katsuki he got to know him in the passing weeks, he noted that the kid was actually a huge fucking dork.

A dork that didn’t know how to socialize. He constantly tripped over his words when he was nervous. He was clumsy as fuck. Often muttered to himself often while immersed in his projects. And he acted like a skittish cat whenever Katsuki even remotely raised his voice.

His appearance was decidedly that of: alt/punk meets cozy autumn hipster. What with his long oversized cozy-looking cardigans, band shirts, and bright red chucks. And maybe the occasional knit beanie. Aside from his total ‘I listen to moody music and cry in my bedroom over dark poetry’ vibe, he was low-key, kind of cool. Not that the werewolf would ever outright admit it.

One thing he would admit outright however, was that the kid honestly did craft some badass looking coffins. It was insane how intricate and involved they were. He would literally spend hours a day on them, sometimes even weeks. It wasn't too often that he was seen outside of his workshop.

Izuku also seemed to have a bit of a natural backbone and tolerance for the obscure and macabre. And Katsuki had to admit that he was slightly impressed by this, the kid didn't scare easily.

Having been a medical examiner for many years, he was pretty knowledgeable about the biology of all things human and monster related or otherwise.

He didn’t bat an eye when his mentor literally ate a bowl of some dead guy's brains in front of him. Acting, for all he was worth, like it was an ordinary bowl of fucking cereal.

Katsuki was beginning to question this kid’s mental health.

But even so, despite all of the ways in which the kid was weird, he was also… sweet. And oddly soft. In a cute cuddly rabbit kind of way. Way too soft for this life, in his opinion, and he was not at all like any of the other humans Katsuki had encountered.

Izuku was highly approachable and rather down to earth. He had a great bedside manner and excelled at being helpful to a fault.

He also seemed decidedly ‘punchable’ and was undoubtedly somebody else’s punching bag in grade school.

And the more the wolf hung around him, the more curious he’d become; and the more curious he’d become, the more he felt this innate need to look-out for him.

It could have been some biological sense of loyalty, since Izuku had ‘technically’ saved his life, but…

Whatever it was, everything was weird as fuck around here and Katsuki didn’t know what to make of it.

At least, not at first.

Over the course of his stay, Katsuki did indeed come to find out what this place was all about.

While Toshinori and Izuku did run a fully operational mortuary for the living, it was indeed a refuge and safe haven for all manner of 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔.

Its inhabitants came in an array of varieties.

The obnoxious Pikachu-wanna be was an Elemental Demon of the electric-type variety. Who most people enjoyed using as their personal cellphone charger.

The red-headed shitty-haired idiot that slept all day and stayed up all night gaming or working out, was a Gargoyle with an affinity for positive masculinity.

The weird pink alien-looking chick was a literal fucking Disney fairy. He always assumed the Fae were terrifying, not annoying. That was some serious false advertisement.

The pink-cheeked bob-cut with a sunny disposition that rivaled Izuku’s own, was a Witch, a sometimes …admittedly intimidating one at that. She also apparently had a familiar by the name of Tsuyu, who was a shapeshifting frog? Or Kappa? Who might have also been her girlfriend?

Katsuki didn’t bother with the details. All he knew was that the frog was often seen riding around on her floppy trimmed hat.

It was kind of …cute as shit, honestly.

The geek with the glasses and a knack for following the house rules was also an Undead, but he was more of a hodgepodge of human and human-adjacent body parts. Complete with stitches and bolts, he was the literal embodiment of Frankenstein's monster.

The so-called ‘groundskeeper,’ who literally napped in a giant yellow sleeping bag any chance he got, was a fuckin’ Mummy of all things.

This place was literally as stated: a haven for all.

But the one that got under his skin the most was the Vamp. It was probably cliche, but Katsuki couldn't stand him. He didn't care that he claimed to be Izuku’s ‘best friend.’

That douchebag was always hanging around the viridian eyed boy like he was some sort of ...snack.

It was unnerving.

It could have been his instinctual hatred for Vampires, or maybe it was his stupid two-toned hair and heterochromatic eyes, but as time went on and Katsuki regained his strength, he made it a point to keep an extra eye on the kid when the bloodsucker was around.

Definitely not out of jealousy or any stupid shit like that.

Nope.

It was mid-August now, and although Katsuki was very much healed and rested at this point, something inside of him was… 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕.

He'd been at the Underwood Asylum for 8 months now, which was a feat in and of itself. He hadn’t spent this much time in one place since he was a teenager. He supposed that this was because nowhere he went ever stayed safe for this long.

That inherent need to move on, that nomadic tenancy that came with being a werewolf just wasn’t present.

He felt… content.

In ways he hadn’t ever felt before.

His life was often one of violence, pain, strategy, and forward motion. Survival was a war he’d always had to wage against his natural enemies, the vampires and hunters.

“Trust no one and keep moving.” Those were the words imparted to him by his mother before she died.

But those words didn’t seem to apply here.

Not in the traditional sense.

This refuge was like a watering hole. For all living or animated things to come to and find some type of peace or closure. What Toshinori and Izuku were doing here was something special.

They helped others.

It didn’t matter who.

They held such beautiful and fulfilling funerals for their clients. They offered a kind of closure for the grieving families that most never get. They also offered their services in blessing homes or exorcisms. They even made arrangements for grief counseling with a friend and a psychic, called Nighteye.

And Izuku…

Katsuki would spend hours with him at night, in his workshop, watching him handcraft coffins. He had a certain gentleness about him as he worked. It was almost like he felt a certain reverence for each one he made.

It was a shame really.

To craft something so beautiful, only to have it be buried with the dead underground. Never to resurface again. Never to know the time or dedication that went into each one.

These were much more than just pine boxes.

And it reminded Katsuki of just how little he actually knew about the guy.

“Wait… You seriously thought he was just a regular human this whole time?” Toshinori chuckles that fatherly chuckle of his, making to wipe a non-existent tear from the corner of his eye.

Katsuki balks at his response, his cheeks flushing a deep red.

“No shit, Sherlock! He’s not exactly the Phantom of the fucking Opera! And he’s not nearly as impressive to look at as that hallucination was that first night. The fuck was I supposed to think he was?!” Katsuki gripes in embarrassment.

“Hallucination? Young one, did it ever occur to you that he might not have had a scent due to some more supernatural reason?” Toshinori muses, a coy smile perched upon his pale lips.

“Fuck if I know?! He could have been cursed for all I know. Witches curse shit all the time,” the young wolf retorts, his cheeks a traitorous shade of pink.

“Well… yes and no? That’s a common misconception. Not ‘all’ witches believe in cursing or hexing others, unless you count the patriarchy,” Toshinori kids, his milky-cobalt eyes alight with amusement.

“What the fuck ever! He clearly doesn't smell like a normal human. What is he? I’m dying here. Trying to figure it out is driving me fucking insane,” Katsuki pouts, dropping onto a rolling chair.

He watches as Toshinori makes his way around the sterile morgue. Looking for supplies, it would seem.

Toshinori quirks a brow, “you really don’t know?” He asks, his voice skeptical.

“Would I bother to fucking ask if I did, old man?” The wolf counters, crossing his arms over his chest, unamused.

Toshinori smiles and rolls his eyes before coming back around to the observation table and proceeding to begin embalming someone’s dearly departed.

Katsuki watches the process with morbid curiosity.

“You already know the answer to that, my boy, you've seen it yourself,” Toshinori explains patiently.

Katsuki’s pout becomes even more pronounced the more perplexed he becomes.

“There is no way that the nerd is a ghost,” the younger blond ripostes.

Toshinori laughs a full-bellied laugh. “Well… The word ghost… is too simple a term to classify what he is,” the undead reveals.

“What the hell does that mean?” The wolf asks, testily.

“Our dear Izuku is… more of a 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒕, actually,” Toshinori remarks, a certain listlessness to his voice, “an extremely powerful one at that.”

If it weren’t for his tone, Katsuki would never have bought it.

And while part of him did, that didn’t stop him from countering with: “A Poltergeist… Seriously? You really expect me to believe he’s some tortured vengeful spirit? Sure, he's a bit weird, but there is nothing spooky or dangerous about him! He’s got the personality of a bunny rabbit! The guy literally bawled his eyes out over ‘The Notebook’ last week, Toshinori… That movie is over 21 years old, he did not have to go that hard! Behavior like that doesn't exactly scream hostility to me.”

Toshinori scratches his cheek awkwardly, “I mean, technically? You're not wrong. You also might very well have a point. But, romance movies have always made him cry! And bear in mind, you also have yet to see a truly… emotionally motivated Izuku. He can and has been known to be… pretty damn terrifying on occasion.”

Somehow, ‘terrifying' and ‘Izuku' didn't jive in the same sentence.

“A poltergeist?” Katsuki argues again, deadpanning.

“So to speak, yes,” Toshinori confirms.

“He can touch things and pick them up. People can see him and touch him, too. Hell, I picked his lanky ass up and slung him over my shoulder the other night to aggravate him and he sputtered until I put him down, that doesn’t scream vengeful spirit, Toshinori,” Katsuki counters, unamused.

“I never said vengeful, at least… not anymore,” the undead corrects him again. “think about it, young one, have you ever seen him eat?” Toshinori queries, looking up from the body he was currently sewing shut.

“He cooks,” the blond counters.

“For others,” Toshinori defends, with some amusement, “have you ever felt his pulse, or the warmth of his skin?”

“Number 1; no, that’s weird. Number 2, he’s always covered up in one of his stupid hipster sweaters,” Katsuki retorts.

“You know he doesn’t have a scent, but have you ever heard his heartbeat? You’re a wolfborn, young Bakugou… I know you can hear a person’s heartbeat. You identified me by some graveyard flowers and dried herbs alone.”

Katsuki considers all of this for a few minutes. Silently watching the older man work.

“He’s gotten so good at blending in… he’ll be so proud of himself, I’m sure,” Toshinori murmurs to himself after a while, almost affectionately. His gaze, seeming far away as he trails off.

This gives Katsuki pause.

If he really thought about it, Izuku really didn’t ever eat anything, at least not in front of him. He had no scent, and… Katsuki couldn’t say for sure if he’d ever heard the sound of his heart, or if he’d ever felt the warmth from his skin.

Those were aspects of his senses that he usually tuned out because they were so loud. And again, Izuku always covered himself in long-sleeved clothing.

This revelation left him… feeling odd.

Almost like there was this feeling of loss.

Like he’d lost something before he’d ever even had it.

“Look. If you don’t believe me, ask him,” Toshinori decides, letting the subject die.

Asking Izuku if he was dead was a lot harder to muster up than Katsuki anticipated. Was there any gentle way to ask something like that? Was it insensitive?

2 weeks had gone by and Katsuki was completely over being awkward. And what was worse, was he could tell that Izuku, bless his heart, was very confused by his behavior.

Fuck… this was hard.

The wolf bounces his knee nervously, trying to figure out a way to form the words. All the while sitting in Izuku’s workshop, watching him sand down his newest project, a cherry wood coffin.

The viridian eyed man seems to sense his anxiety as his steady gaze fixes on him. “Is everything alright, Kacchan?”

Hearing his nickname makes his pulse stutter.

“Huh?! Yeah. No. Yep. Sure? It's cool. Everything's… cool.” He deflects like a dumbass.

Ugh…

He sounded like Kirishima.

“Oookay…” Izuku arches a brow, but continues sanding his latest project.

Silence settles between them again and Katsuki for the life of him, couldn’t stand the awkward tension.

“Actually, no. Deku?” He starts, finally summoning the courage from somewhere. He truly didn’t know where yet.

Izuku perks up from his musings, “yes, Kacchan?” He replies in that patient ‘Deku’ kind of way. A soft smile playing on his lips.

“That night… When you found me in the woods…” he continued nervously, “was that…” He clears his throat. “Was… that really you? I wasn’t hallucinating… or anything?”

Izuku eyes him blankly at first.

‘A dead expression,’ his mind supplies smartly.

“Well, you were in pretty bad shape, so I can’t confirm exactly what you did or didn’t see, but that was me, yeah. Why do you ask?” The forested boy replies curiously.

“Just… Okay, this is gonna sound fucking stupid. But, I thought you were a …ghost,” he explains, feeling foolish.

A pregnant pause settles between them.

Izuku is quiet for a long time.

“But, that couldn’t be right. Right? I mean… You’re kind of… Stupidly corporeal. Like… Very solid. In mass,” Katsuki gestures lamely, as he trails off, his cheeks heating despite himself.

This whole exchange sounded stupid even to his ears.

Izuku bursts into laughter, the full-body quaking shoulders and wheezes kind of laughter, fully startling the wolfborn before him.

“S-solid?” He laughs, “in mass?”

His giggles wrack through his entire body.

Until they don’t.

Until, Izuku sat there, quietly.

Holding his upper arms like he were holding pieces of himself together.

He peers up at him, those big green summery eyes, so at odds with the early autumnal season, each orb swimming with unshed tears.

Katsuki’s pulse begins flickering anxiously like a candle on a window sill.

Because, of course he fucked this up.

Just as he begins to apologise, the boy gives him that same gentle smile that promised Katsuki safety that night in early January.

“I’m… so glad you think I’m corporeal,” Izuku finally replies, teasingly, with yet another soft laugh.

But this one was so much different.

This one was so, so sad, and those tears edging at the corners of his eyes finally fall.

“It’s nice... to know that you actually thought I was human… if just for a moment, solid and breathing. Sometimes...” he softly confesses, “I feel like I might… Blow away and cease to exist forever. It’s silly, isn’t it?”

Shocked scarlet orbs watched as his friend was once again taken by tears and laughter, and a sense of resolve floods through him.

Pulling Izuku into his arms, he holds on tight and doesn't let go.

He’d 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 this kid, no matter the cost.

As it turned out, Katsuki would find out exactly how Izuku had died.

And the bitterness of it made his sense of resolve become all the more solidified.

It had been the ultimate betrayal, by the hands of a lover.

Izuku and his family had been known as trusted healers in their village. Guided by a strong moral compass, they made it their solemn duty to care for their people. And did so, using their knowledge of herbs and their innate power to heal the sick.

That is until western medicine and spiritual principals made their methods look archaic and suspicious.

In an attempt to keep himself and his family safe from scrutiny, Izuku offered his help to a newcomer by the name of Kai Chisaki, an established doctor from a larger town that had recently moved into their village to start a practice.

Izuku figured that by studying western medicine, from a seemingly reputable source, he could maintain the trust he'd built with his people.

Claiming to have been an expert on infectious diseases, Kai had taken advantage of what Izuku had to offer. He took him under his wing and exploited his wealth of medicinal knowledge to further his own twisted studies. Young and naive at the time, Izuku hadn't realized he was being used.

Before long, trust and a budding relationship had been established. Which had made the eventual blindside all the more cruel.

At this time, plagues ravaged the area. And it wasn't long before the seeds of suspicion were sown. Before long rumors of curses and mal intent were abound.

And if there was one thing that burned through a town faster than a wildfire, it was mass hysteria.

It had only been a matter of time.

As the death tolls rose and mass panic settled into the village, the doctor had come under extreme scrutiny. Which he didn't like one bit. And like the coward he was, having been privy to the Midoriya family secrets, he’d thrown Izuku into the metaphorical and literal fire.

Secretly fueling the rumor mill, it wasn't long before the Midoriya name was being raked through the mud and associated with negative, malignant practices.

Seeing the forest for the trees, in an act of sacrifice, Izuku had lovingly sent his mother away for her safety. And in a last ditch effort to clear their name, Izuku fought desperately to lay the vile claims to rest.

But it was sadly to no avail.

Chisaki's charisma had the entire village convinced.

And in the winter of 1825, Izuku had been beaten, arrested, persecuted, and burned as a witch. And with his dying breath, he had laid his first and only curse on the very man who'd betrayed him.

One that swore vengeance.

Not realizing that this would effectively bind him eternally to the land of his death, enraged and volatile, Izuku's burdened soul had carried out its vow with extreme prejudice.

For nearly 200 years, every member of the surviving Chisaki family bloodline that entered his domain would be tormented, sometimes badly injured, and all of them would inevitably have been chased out in fear by the enraged spirit.

He'd been hellbent on burning Kai's legacy to cinders. Figuratively and literally.

Katsuki listens intently as his friend explains his history, with shame in his eyes.

Izuku had become a problem too great to ignore.

One that many an exorcist couldn’t get rid of.

And that was when Toshinori was called in. Due in part to his ‘expertise’ in aiding volatile spirits in passing over.

But even for him; Izuku, fueled by centuries of pain and rage and unrest, was much too powerful to subdue.

So Toshinori had to think outside of the box.

He’d done some digging, metaphorically and literally, and had found Izuku’s remains on the property of the Chisaki family manor.

This only served to further incite the poltergeist’s wrath.

So Toshinori had struck up a deal.

An act of mercy.

If Izuku would agree to move on and no longer harm or scare the living; if he would release his centuries long curse, then Toshinori would agree to not salt and burn his bones. He would instead, transport them, and take Izuku away from his prison and give him purpose.

It was an easy choice to make, the spectre went willingly. The deal was struck and Izuku upheld his end of the bargain.

However, over the years, as the threat of hunters and their methods became too great, Toshinori would do him yet another favor.

His soul, as Katsuki would find out, was attached to an object now, rather than his remains.

It was a beautiful ornate silver ring, set with an oval shaped 𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒅 as vividly green as his eyes. It looked old. By at least a couple hundred years. It'd been a protective amulet given to him by his mother before his death.

Having renegotiated the terms of their pact to: do no harm. Toshinori had been more than happy to bind his soul to an object; the ring in question, so that no hunter could ever find his bones and destroy him.

It’d been the easiest decision to make. The poltergeist, now years into reformation, humbly agreed. And the deal was struck, his soul was once again safely bound to his mother’s ring.

And Izuku got to walk around freely.

Away from the remains of his broken body, which were still hidden in a safe place.

Still as powerful as ever, Izuku was strong enough to interact with and move objects, strong enough to emulate a human form. He’d taken his rage and focused it into purpose and for that, grew strong enough to lead a reasonably normal afterlife.

Free from the bondage of his past, Izuku devoted himself to helping others, like himself, passover.

Knowing what he knew now, Izuku would never just be ‘normal’ or ‘average’ to him again.

Katsuki knew he could more than protect himself and others.

He was a sight to behold.

An inspiration.

And an equal.

That night, under a waning September moon, Izuku would once again reveal himself for what he truly was, and he was every bit as 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓 as Katsuki remembered him to be.

Embarrassingly enough, the sight inspired him to howl and while he’d fought back that urge, he nonetheless, shifted in kind.

As if drawn to do so by the moon.

Together, in the dark of the crisp autumn night, sitting quietly atop the leaf litter, they shared themselves.

Amicable and unspoken.

A spectre and a wolf.

From then on, Katsuki found it harder and harder to find the need or desire to leave.

He had a feeling he knew exactly what his attachment was, innately all wolves knew, but this was so different.

So out of the ordinary.

He’d never heard of anything like this.

A wolfborn… forming an affinity for an unanchored 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍.

But was that not the same as loving the moon?

Which was another entity, always seen but never touched?

If that were the case…

Katsuki was sure he’d found his moon.

“Quit pining, it’s unbecoming,” a monotone and annoyingly familiar voice teases him over his shoulder.

Izuku and Toshinori were currently upstairs with a client, busy making preparations for a funeral.

Apparently the family had some last-minute requests for floral arrangements and detailing to their loved one’s coffin.

So the wolf was left to his own devices.

Katsuki huffs to himself, looking up to find the bane of his existence, leisurely drinking cow’s blood from a wine glass, like some high-class broad.

While it now made sense that Izuku’s best friend and brother-figure was a vampire, it still annoyed him greatly.

“Piss off, IcyHot,” the wolf grumbles to himself.

He was definitely not pining.

Or being mopey.

Nope.

The vampire above him tuts his tongue before sarcastically replying, “It’s… giving desperation. But really, who can blame you? Once you mutts form a bond, you wait in the wings for your mate to return, just like a dog would await its master.”

Now, normally, a remark like this would piss him off.

It would equally incite his rage knowing a fucking vampire had said it.

But right now, this was not the case.

The closest thing he could describe it as, was water rushing past his ears. Or an adrenaline spike. Or his heart literally jumping into his throat.

It was an epiphany at its finest.

Katsuki’s scarlet eyes widen with urgency as he shoots up from his seat at the dining room table, startling the vampire, no doubt.

“Do you really think that?” He asks suddenly enough to give the bi-colored man whiplash.

"Uh… I guess?” Shouto queries, uncertain as to where the wolf was going with this.

Katsuki sits there silently, for the first time Shouto has surely ever seen him do so.

As if sensing the intensity of his thoughts, the vampire lingers.

“How much would you say you know about Were’s?” Katsuki finally asks.

Shouto quirks a brow, but humors him and takes a seat across from him at the table.

“I’ve been alive a lot longer than you have, so I assume I’d know quite a bit,” the vampire supplies.

It was an olive branch.

Katsuki fucking hated olives, but he was willing to bite.

“Okay… just, humor me. Because I know this is going to sound stupid as hell, but do you think it’s possible… to form a bond with a non-living creature?”

“You’re right, that does sound asinine,” Shouto quips, taking a slow sip from his wine glass.

“Fuck you. Answer the question,” Katsuki all but growls.

“Well… considering I’ve seen all sorts of things, I assume a union between something like a wolf and an undead would be possible, a bit on the weird side though, he’s like everyone’s dad," the vampire deadpans.

Katsuki gapes.

This motherfucker had the audacity to joke about this?

“Okay, firstly, go die. Secondly, you know damn well who fucking meant, now tell me if you think it’s fucking possible or not!” He all but shouts.

The douchebag had the gall to smirk.

If he wasn’t Izuku’s best friend, he would fucking dust this asshole.

“Okay, I’ll play along, for the sake of all our eardrums. I’m sure even Kirishima could hear your barking and it’s not even sundown yet,” the vampire sasses.

“Fucking please?” Katsuki growls as politely as he could muster.

He never used the P word and never toward a bloodsucker.

“Let’s go over the basics, shall we?” Shouto acquiesces, to which Kastuki nods.

“You’re a 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇; curseborn or wolfborn?”

“Wolfborn,” Katsuki mutters, but gives him his full attention.

“Even better,” Shouto quips, “so… all wolves can form an affinity, or bond of some type. The difference here, however, is that while curseborn wolves bond and trot, wolfborn’s form affinities for life. It’s got something to do with your chemistry. Curseborn’s were initially human, so they don’t often form lifetime bonds. Wolfborn’s, however, do.”

“Can we skip the elementary school bullshit? I know all of this,” Katsuki gripes.

“I’m getting there, you impatient mutt,” Shouto scowls, taking yet another sip from his wine glass. “This has to do with souls as a whole.”

That seems to pique Katsuki’s interest, his attention now rapt.

“Human’s, very rarely, will also have soulmates. It happens, but not often. It literally has to do with if the timing is right. A person could have a soulmate that wouldn’t be born until after they’ve died. It’s… rather unfortunate how fickle human lifespans are. However, wolfborn’s have much longer lifespans, thus increasing their chances of forming affinities.”

Katsuki nods, showing he’s still following, so Shouto continues, “Due to this fortunate circumstance, a wolfborn forms the affinity with their soulmate. Bonding them together, heart and soul, correct?”

“Yeah, so?” Katsuki replies with uncertainty.

“So, it stands to reason that; if a human boy who indeed had a soulmate, happened to die. And his soulmate hadn't been born yet. And by some miracle, years later this soulmate: a young wolfborn, just so happened to stumble into his afterlife like an angsty foulmouthed dog. Pining at his kitchen table like a dumbass…” the vampire trails off, gesturing to the wolf belatedly. “Are we getting the picture yet?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen yet again, “then you do think it’s possible?”

A rare smile quirks the vampire’s pursed lips, “wolfborn’s have soulmates, because they fall in love with their souls, Bakugou. If a poltergeist isn’t a soul, I don’t know what else is. But I’ll tell you this, if you fuck up… even once. You’ll know what true wrath is. And I don’t think I need to explain the ways that I’ll gut you, if you hurt him.”

Katsuki stares at him in awe, like this vampiric cur had just given him his blessing.

And what a blessing it was.

They’d never been more on the same page than they were right then.

“Dude, this is just… so hard to watch,” Denki comments, his pointed tail twitching to and fro.

“Listen, we all know Midoriya's an awkward duck. So, really it's Bakugou’s fault. Bro just doesn't have any game,” Kirishima laments, shedding a manly tear.

“Oh, you guuuuys! Be nice! I think it's cute! Watching them dance around one another is fun. It's like a little ritual!" Mina sighs dreamily.

“Don't the fae literally kidnap and enslave their love interests?” Sero queries dubiously.

“As opposed to spiders eating theirs?” Mina retorts, puffing her cheeks out haughtily.

“Yeah, female spiders!” Sero retorts.

“Oof… Tough break, man,” The gargoyle laments once more. Patting his arachnid friend on the shoulder.

“What are you morons ranting about now?” Katsuki barks in annoyance as he walks past them. Izuku trailing bashfully in tow.

“Oh nothiiiiing,” they all respond in unison.

They were clearly lying.

The werewolf elects to ignore their nonsense.

Admittedly, he already ‘low-key’ knew.

It was impossible to miss.

Katsuki was either incredibly bad at flirting or Izuku, bless his soul, just wasn't getting the hint.

It was very likely that they were both to blame.

Either way, what ignorant 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒔.

The town closest to U.A.; as everyone affectionately dubbed their mortuary, was no stranger to all manner of monsters.

The surrounding forested border usually kept the undesirables out, allowing creatures like himself and his friends at U.A. to settle here.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to take human lovers either, so most people here were pretty well informed and accepting. So seeing a poltergeist and a werewolf wander into town together for food and supplies, wasn’t that abnormal.

Besides, they had one another’s back, should anything go sideways.

In getting to know more about the poltergeist, Katsuki had heard many stories and had been given innocent demonstrations of just how ‘un-helpless’ Izuku could be. Most left the wolf grateful they were on the same side. Others left him with an unexplained thrill at simply being allowed to experience him.

“So… you can’t eat, but you cook and enjoy grocery shopping?” Katsuki asks curiously as they leisurely walk through a bodega.

He wanted to understand Izuku better. And what better way was there to do that than to ask him stupid questions.

The poltergeist nods brightly with a full sun-warmed smile. “I know that sounds silly, but I find it cathartic. I might not be able to enjoy what I make, but I know some of the others do. Mina loves it when I make fairy cakes and Ochaco loves my pies. Kirishima enjoys my curry as well-”

“Wait! You make curry?” Katsuki interjects.

“I do!” Izuku replies earnestly.

“How hot are we talking?” the wolf queries, all but innocently.

“Uh…” Izuku seems to ponder this, “It depends really, I tend to make it decently hot and adjust the temperature to everyone’s individual liking.”

A feral grin overtakes the wolf’s features as he slings an arm casually over Izuku’s shoulder. “You’ve been holding out on me, Deku! It’s time to pay up.”

The forested boy’s already bright smile blooms enough to crinkle his eyes, “if it’s curry you want, I’ll gladly make you some.”

“Hell yeah,” Katsuki replies, trying and failing to reign in his excitement. He hadn't had a good curry since his mother's passing. “So what exactly are we here for today?”

“Well, just like with the Equinox, I like to make a big meal for everyone on Samhain,” Izuku explains, his viridian eyes bright.

“And that's what, Halloween?” Katsuki inquires, with a curious arch to his brow.

“Right! Everyone calls it something different. Halloween, Samhain, Dia de los Muertos, for example. But in almost every culture that celebrates it, it usually all means the same thing. It's known as the time when the veil between life and death is the thinnest. Everyone celebrates death. They celebrate the lives of their departed loved ones, or the changing of the seasons, new beginnings, or just like regular old Halloween, people dress up and just have fun. Ochaco and I like to think of Samhain as the pagan new year,” Izuku explains.

'A celebration of the Dead huh?'

Katsuki considers this.

He'd been on the move for so many years now, he never had time to participate in things like this. Holidays and celebrations were the last thing on his mind when it came to survival. So much so, that he’d barely even begun to process his own feelings surrounding his family being hunted to near extinction.

It wasn't something he tried reflecting on often, but since he began this journey of exploration with Izuku, the man had a way about him that shook his emotions loose.

“You could’a led with Halloween and skipped the cultural lesson, ya nerd,” Katsuki teases, giving Izuku’s shoulder a light squeeze.

He secretly loved how passionate he could get when he explained things.

This makes the forested man laugh, as he briefly pulls away from the wolf to go about picking out vegetables from a vendor's stand.

“Sorry, Kacchan! I just get so excited about this time of the year!”

“I bet you do, what ghost wouldn’t want a license to spook people?” Katsuki kids, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the spirit peruse other stands.

Izuku smiles and shrugs, scratching behind his head awkwardly, “Uh… I dunno. I think I’ve had my fill of spookiness to last most people a lifetime.”

'Right, duh.'

That was a dumb comment, now that Katsuki had thought about it.

But the spectre took this in stride, as usual.

“For me personally, it’s about the deeper meaning, you know? It's about 𝑹𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 loved ones who have passed, or embracing the new opportunities the coming year can bring. That sort of thing.”

Katsuki nods as he listens.

He hadn’t considered that and it leaves him wondering, “Say… Deku, do you think anyone remembers you?”

A small rueful smile overtakes his boyish features and immediately, Katsuki begins to regret asking. That is, until he watches resolve etch within his expression.

“Who needs anyone to remember me, when I have you here and now?” Izuku replies sincerely.

A traitorous heat begins to flush the wolf’s face.

“I’m serious,” Izuku continues, taking his silence for skepticism, “I have you, and Toshi, and Shou, Mirai, and everyone else who loves me, here and now. That’s… all I need.”

Katsuki eyes him carefully, his own affectionate smile forming despite himself.

Giving in, he slings his arm around Izuku’s shoulder again as they continue their walk, feeling content as Izuku presses lightly against him.

“Yeah… you're damn right,” he murmurs into his curls.

This was all he needed too.

Since their impromptu grocery run at the beginning of the month turned into what Katsuki affectionately dubbed their: ‘bodega date’ the 𝒕𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 pair have been nigh inseparable.

Once casual or fleeting touches between the two of them, quickly began to linger. And eventually those lingering touches became much more deliberate.

The late nights spent in Deku's workshop were filled with quiet conversations, more probing questions, and eventually transcended into the spectre focusing his time on him almost exclusively.

Their first kiss was almost accidental and somehow that made it all the more perfect.

Katsuki had been monologuing again. Some rant about something Shitty Hair and Pikachu had gotten up to during that evening that greatly annoyed him in one way or another and mid-rant; the poltergeist, overcome with affection, dropped an absent kiss onto the crown of his head, right between Katsuki’s expressive wolven ears.

The werewolf pauses, stilling in his seat.

And at that moment Deku seems to come back to himself and flushes deeply, from his neck all the way up to his pink tipped ears.

It was absolutely adorable.

Immediately he begins to stammer out some kind of apology that the wolfborn couldn't care less about.

And with more courage than Katsuki’s ever known himself to have, he simply grabs the spirit’s hand and tugs him closer. Until they were knee to knee.

Cautious ruby eyes meet anxious verdant orbs.

Each searching until a silent understanding passes between them.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat Katsuki pulls the now silent apparition into his lap and settles his warm clammy hands around his waist.

Izuku seemed no less shy and embarrassed at first, but as his emerald eyes grew half-lidded with their new proximity, it spoke of everything they've yet to say to one another.

“Deku…” His hushed tone sounded a lot steadier than his pulse felt as he leaned forward and softly nuzzled his nose against Izuku's.

“Kacchan,” he whispers back, his voice trembling in the limited space between them, and it serves to make the wolfborn's confidence grow.

Katsuki didn't know what to expect when he leaned up and closed the gap between them, but he was beyond delighted at what he discovered.

Izuku may not have had a scent or even a specific taste really, but as Katsuki pressed their eager lips together for the first time, what he experienced was absolutely 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄.

He knew with certainty that it was a sensation he would never get enough of.

And as Izuku caressed both of his cheeks and drew him closer, tenderly breaching the seam of their lips, the wolfborn knew he must have felt it too.

Just when things were going great, life had a funny way of kicking a person right in the nuts when they least expected it.

He should have known better…

His biggest mistake was letting Tenko Shimura 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆.

It was October 28th when Tomura Shigaraki showed up on their doorstep, 𝑩𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 and broken.

And like the bleeding hearts Toshinori and Deku were, they offered him asylum.

With a growing discomfort in his chest, the werewolf couldn’t help but feel like this was a mistake.

Katsuki didn’t like this.

He didn’t know what it was about this guy, but he felt like his skin was going to crawl away, just from being near him.

And Izuku, bless him, was doing all that he could to aid the new addition, by helping wrap his wounds and helping to feed him substantial meals. He dedicated himself to his care, like any other refugee they’ve taken in.

Still, the wolf hovered watchfully nearby.

He absolutely did not like that this creepy guy was so close to his boyfriend.

Katsuki felt like he should feel like an asshole for being so dickish about this, considering he too had been a refugee, but something truly unnerved him about this guy.

And his scent was weird.

Almost as though it were both familiar and not all at once.

It was like familiarity, mixed with rot and 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒚.

And with everyone being so busy tending to both the weirdo and the holiday preparations, Katsuki’s concerns went amiss.

By all except one.

“That dude ain’t right,” Denki says one night, from his perch on the couch next to Katsuki. His pointed tail swishing about like a pissed-off cat.

Both of them were currently locked in a heated battle of wills.

This piques the wolf’s interest.

“Which one?” He mutters, belatedly, propelling Yoshi faster down the rainbow road.

“Scarface,” the demon replies, distractedly, attempting to hit Yoshi with a turtle shell.

Katsuki sighs, “which one?” He retaliates with a banana peel.

Denki rolls his eyes, “Creepy new guy, not Shou.”

As the turtle shell knocks into Yoshi and he spins out, Katsuki couldn’t care less, his attention was now rapt.

“What do you mean?” the wolf quietly demands, his voice suddenly very low.

“I dunno dude,” Denki shrugs, but his body language betrays his actual discomfort.

“Look, I’m a demon… and it’s not weird for us to make deals with humans. But… this guy is on my ‘red alert’ radar, ya feel? He… doesn’t seem 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏, but he does at the same time. It’s messin’ me up.”

Katsuki is quiet for a moment.

For once, glad that someone other than him had been picking up on the toxic vibes.

It seemed that Denki was more intuitive than he'd given him credit for.

“I think you’re right,” the wolf replies after some time, much to the astonishment of said demon.

The blond nods in agreement. “Lets… just keep an eye on it.”

Katsuki couldn't agree more.

Suspicions alone weren’t enough to call for a witch hunt. But by the time they’d have confirmation of their fears, it’d be too late.

When Kirishima barreled into his and Izuku's room that night in a panic, Katsuki knew something was dead wrong.

It was 11:30pm on October 30th and a 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 like no other rattled the very walls and shattered the silence of the night.

"We're under attack!" The redhead relays with urgency.

And suddenly a feeling like fire blazed within him.

A searing pain.

But it wasn't his own.

And as he jumped out of his bed and ran toward the sound, he knew.

He could feel it through their tether.

Something was seriously wrong with Izuku.

The sight they were met with as they threw the door to Izuku’s workshop open was unlike anything they've ever experienced.

Katsuki and Kirishima couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

What could only be their loved one's bones, were ablaze in ethereal flames, and his soul was writhing in pain on the workshop floor.

His pained screams; like that of a banshee, wailed through the night, shattering all of the windows around them and rattling the mortuary's very structure.

Panicked, Katsuki tries to leap into action, only to be snatched up by the surprising strength of Kirishima’s firm grip, “Dude, no! It's too dangerous!”

“Kirishima?! Let go of me!” The wolf shouts in protest. Adrenaline flooding his system.

He didn't give a single shit about what he was running into.

Not when Izuku was hurting.

That was more than enough motivation.

But a putrid aura stills them both.

Kirishima grips him tighter, his pulse quickening with fear in Katsuki’s ears.

“It’s almost funny,” a raspy voice pipes up from a darkened corner, “although his soul might not be bound to his bones, burning them still hurts like hell.”

Katsuki immediately sees red as he feels his fangs and claws elongating angrily on their own accord.

The man emerges, analyzing his fingernails nonchalantly. As if he had nothing better to do.

“You,” Katsuki growls dangerously, his tone so full of wrath it startles his friend into letting him go.

“What the hell? He helped you!” Kirishima ripostes, his voice thick with grief and disbelief, “How could you do this?!”

“Oh, he helped, alright,” Tomura trills cruelly, “he helped me realize he was the only true threat here. If I took him out first, well… all of you would be so much easier to kill.”

As Izuku's soul continues to tremble in pain on the floor, gritting through tears in his eyes, he utters the word “h-hunter” before succumbing to a state of unconsciousness.

The very sight of this pierces Katsuki’s heart.

This motherfucker would die.

“Oops,” Shigaraki shrugs, “Guess he spilled the beans, ah well… I was never going to let any of you live anyway, so here we are.”

As cruel vermilion eyes meet that of enraged scarlet, familiarity suddenly sparks within the wolf.

The reason his scent bothered him so much.

And Denki’s confession of how unnerved he was by him.

The puzzle pieces clicked neatly into place and it all suddenly made sense.

This was the very man that murdered his family and hunted him relentlessly all across the country.

He looked and smelled so different from before.

“It can't be… You’re him. Tenko Shimura?” Katsuki utters, his blood running cold, “But… How?”

“Well, when you can’t beat an enemy, the only other option is sacrifice. And believe me when I say, Katsuki Bakugou… that I sincerely wanted you dead badly enough to make a deal with a devil to do it. Getting the opportunity to kill your boyfriend in front of you, though? Now that’s just a lucky break," the hunter grins with sadistic amusement.

A growl so feral; that Kirishima flinches and backs up, rips from him as he shifts.

With just a shared look, the gargoyle nods and flees from the room in search of back up.

The wolf in turn, stalks forward, his body poised to kill. Only pausing when Shimura’s steel-toed boot hovers over Izuku’s left hand.

Just above the emerald amulet containing the poltergeist’s bound soul.

“Ah, ah! Not a step closer. Or your mate here, gets to take a more permanent dirt nap,” Shimura threatens.

Katsuki's ensuing bark rips through the quiet of the room, his muzzle pulling back in a fierce snarl, bearing nothing but razor-sharp fangs. His expression promised nothing but pain.

"Ooh, scary!" The hunter taunts him, "you really do love this pile of plasma, don't you? How unfortunate for you. How about I do you a solid and level the playing field? Once you're dead too, you can both finally be together! That is… until I destroy this amulet, of course. We can't have a pissed off and out of control poltergeist on our hands, now can we? That would be awkward."

Katsuki’s self-control snaps as he quickly lunges, tackling the hunter to the ground.

Together they roll, each trying to gain the upper hand, in a flurry of limbs and teeth.

Katsuki yelps as something strange occurs.

Leaping back, he watches as patches of his fur fall to the floor, dissolving as they went.

Panic spikes within him.

“Heh, a neat trick, isn’t it?” The hunter brags, “it’s kind of fascinating, who knew selling your soul would grant a person such power? I can dissolve anything I lay my hands on. Imagine what that will be like, watching your mate's amulet deconstruct in my palm. I wonder… would he feel it?”

Katsuki gnashes his teeth as he begins to circle the hunter again, stopping only when he was between the hunter and Izuku’s prone form.

This monster had already taken everything from him.

From the time he was 16 years old, orphaned and homeless, Katsuki only had himself to rely on.

He was done being chased and pursued.

He would rather die fighting than watch him take away another person he loved.

“Oh? And that help your friend was going to get? Don’t count on that bearing any fruit. I came prepared after all,” Tenko shrugs.

Suddenly, Katsuki registers it.

The distinct smell of thick smoke begins to permeate through the air.

Followed by shouts and sounds of a struggle.

More enemies were laying siege to their refuge.

And by the sound, every U.A. resident was engaged in defending their home.

“There is only one way this will end,” the hunter boasts.

The ensuing clash was one of desperation, blood, fangs, and claws, as Kastuki fought with his all against an opponent that was literally taking chunks out of him at a time.

But he too, gave as much as he got.

Each man was willing to fight to the death if need be.

One aiming to destroy.

One aiming to protect.

Until suddenly, everything stops.

Katsuki's pulse quivers with sudden dread as his body suddenly feels heavier than it ever had before.

He feels his fur literally stand on end.

A distinct smell of ozone fills the air through the shattered mortuary windows.

A smell akin to petrichor.

An almost electric energy, unlike anything Katsuki has ever experienced in his life, explodes around them.

The atmosphere of which was decidedly eerie, thick, and weighed heavily with hatred. So much so that it stops the wolf in his tracks, making him cower near Izuku’s bones.

Turning, ever so slightly, he sees him.

A 𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒉, the likes of which only existed in the darkest of shadows.

The visage of what could only be his love; twisted, malformed, and utterly unrecognizable.

Gone was that feeling of peace. The flow and beauty of him. Leaving nothing but a deep darkness, crawling and coiling. Wispy tendrils like putrid green ink, writhed and choked the oxygen from the very room he’d once been so at ease in.

Katsuki couldn’t form into coherent thought, how much the sight had hurt him to see.

But for some reason, he still felt it.

That safety.

That same feeling from the night they'd met.

This was still his Izuku.

The wolf limps out of the way as the enraged poltergeist flows ever nearer, that inky blackness mixing with electric green static. Raising a gnarled ghostly hand ever so slightly as he went.

Katsuki watches in shock as Tenko Shimura is lifted 3 feet off the floor, hovering, as though petrified in midair.

“...ǝɯoɥ ɹno oʇuᴉ ǝɯoɔ no⅄”

Katsuki shivers involuntarily as Izuku speaks. The very sound of his voice, loud enough to rattle the foundation, yet leaving soft ancient echoes in its wake.

“?pᴉɐdǝɹ sᴉ ssǝupuᴉʞ ɹno ʍoɥ sᴉ sᴉɥʇ puɐ ...ɯnʅʎsɐ noʎ pǝɹǝɟɟo ǝM”

The hunter writhes, choking and panicked as he attempts to break free from the spectre’s invisible hold. Izuku squeezes tighter.

“...ʇɐɥʇ ɹoɟ puɐ ,ǝʌoʅ ʎɯ ʇɹnɥ noʎ ,ʎʅᴉɯɐɟ ʎɯ ʇɹnɥ no⅄”

In an instant, the shaking of the foundation, the smell of smoke, the sounds of echoing struggles, all cease.

And suddenly everything around them is thrust back into its proper place. Shattered glass zipping around the room until the windows were once again whole and undisturbed.

As though time itself were being rewound.

Katsuki watches in astonishment as each of his wounds heal before his very eyes.

It came as a whisper.

And the werewolf watches in awe from the safety near his beloved's bones, as Tenko Shimura's skin begins to peel from his flesh and curl away. Dissipating into ash.

His own power turned against him.

“...ʇɥᵷᴉuoʇ ǝʌᴉʌɹns ʅʅᴉʍ sʇuǝɔouuᴉ ǝɥʇ ʎʅuO”

It was Halloween, or Samhain, as Deku had called it.

And while everything was back in one piece, and everyone had mutually decided to carry on with their traditions, all of them were decidedly subdued.

Tonight was the night in which the dead were celebrated, but none of them would ever have suspected that it would hit so close to home.

No one suspected that one of theirs would be taken, in a cruel twist of fate.

But power like Izuku's came at a price.

It was a cold night.

Much colder than usual, but Katsuki didn’t mind.

He’d always run a little hotter than most, anyway.

He much preferred sitting on the cold porch to sitting inside, pretending his world hadn’t just collapsed.

He’d been out here for hours.

And though the others have been checking on him periodically, they were understanding enough to give him space.

Familiar footfalls and the smell of posies draw Katsuki from his ruminations.

The wolf barely moves as the undead walks through the front door and sits next to him on the steps.

A sorrowful, but comfortable silence falls between them.

And to Toshinori’s surprise, Katsuki is the one who breaks it.

“Do you think he knew?” He murmurs, worrying the knit pattern of a cardigan that wasn’t his, between his fingers.

Toshinori exhales a sigh from his nose, taking a moment to ponder this before replying. “I think… That Izuku knew where his choice would lead. And I also know… That he didn’t regret it for a second.”

“Listen… about the pact. I hope you know… He would never have betrayed your trust lightly, he… He was protecting me. Protecting all of us,” Katsuki defends hurriedly, hoping the undead would understand.

Toshinori smiles sadly as he eyes the wolf.

Katsuki was sure that if he could cry, tears would undoubtedly be streaming down the older man’s face.

“I know, young one. I know. There… There was simply no humane way of dealing with a evil like that. Izuku knew he had to be put down. He understood that more than most. It's just… It must have scared him, knowing that in order to make things right, he too, would once again... have to tread in dark waters to do so,” Toshinori replies sadly, his gaze far away.

Silence hangs between them.

Toshinori shifts after a while, putting a reassuring hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

As the older man stands, he holds out his hand to the confused wolf, who offers his in return.

Rather than pulling him up, like he expected, the undead sets something in his palm, closing both of his hands around it.

Katsuki eyes him in silent curiosity.

“He would want you to hold onto it. And… I trust you to keep him safe,” the undead explains.

Opening his closed palm, Katsuki eyes the ornate silver ring, still set with that beautiful emerald, so akin to his eyes.

He watches as it very faintly pulsates with the tiniest of 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔.

Katsuki can’t help the hope that blooms within him as he locks eyes with warm milky-cobalt.

“Is he…?” He breathes.

Toshinori shrugs, but gives him an encouraging smile. “Izuku has always been full of surprises. Maybe he'll give us one more?"

Offering the wolf one last smile, the older man takes himself back inside.

As the cool obsidian night encroaches around him, Katsuki is content.

As he slips the tiny amulet onto his finger, and pulls Izuku's sweater more tightly around himself, he's filled with assurance.

That come what may, his 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏 would always be his guiding light.

And just maybe…

He wouldn't leave him waiting for too long.