»»————- ☩ ————-«« CHPATER WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, MINOR CHARACTER DEATH, Monoma being an attention whore ;)

A hazy lullaby played on a loop in his head.

Constant and unwavering.

Soft and ominous it made his fucking skin crawl. He did not recognize the voice behind the humming, but there was no mistaking it for anything but female. Light and feathery . . . with an edge.

Izuku's limbs ached like nobody's business, sore and throbbing with each gush of wind that grazed his skin. But the thing that was truly unsettling and off-putting was the flickering flame growing deep within the pits of his stomach, like an unsatisfied hunger. As if he'd gone days without eating. It began in his midriff, spreading to his lungs, relishing in his veins, till they were locked at his fingertips.

It felt like . . . like drowning. Falling. God damn it, it hurt like a bitch―but Izuku couldn't put a label to his pain for the life of him. But he didn't scream. He didn't thrash. He didn't whimper. Hell, he didn't even open his eyes.

He couldn't, even if he wanted to.

For, beneath the layers and layers of flames, he was numb and slack. Any movements he made were not on his own accord, they were directed and forceful; similar to a puppet master controlling its creation.

"I think he's waking up," a voice purrs in his ear, feminine and bubbly. The sound churns through Izuku's system as if recoiling to it.

Though, the voice hadn't been as clear as he'd hopes. As if it had been smeared around the edges, foggy and hazy.

Something cold replaced the fire fleetingly, clasping around his wrists with security and harshness. It took a moment for Izuku to realize he was being hoisted in the air, his body swaying limply from side to side, arms wound up tightly above his head, wrists clasped together. His back slid alongside something firm and scathing, with each involuntary movement he made his shirt slid up. The material from whatever was behind him scathing his all-too sensitive skin.

"I don't recognize him," another voice said thoughtfully, low and serious. Though, in some off-putting way, it sounded familiar to the freckled male.

"Me either," the same feminine voice from before muses. "Maybe the took in another stray? Sounds like something that joke of a Ductor would do,"

Ductor . . . ?

Shoto.

With great effort, a groan slips past Izuku's lips, the ache stirring in his belly trickling into a roar. Every nerve in his body had been set alight, painfully aware of every breath, shuffle, and feeling from the room he was in. Finally, Izuku's eyes peeled open, vision thick with a blurry film placed over it. Distorted shapes danced and swirled in his eye-sight―still no clear faces to put behind the voices from before.

"Struggling is pointless. You're only making your bounds grow tighter," the man chuckles, watching with amusement as Izuku weakly writhes in his place.

Izuku, through his drug-induced high, finds the strength to speak. "'Bounds?'" he breathes deeply, "Didn't know . . . you people were so . . . kinky,"

Bit by bit his vision begins to clear, inky blobs that he couldn't describe as real shapes soon being replaced by two tall figures. The woman was dressed from head to toe in animal fur, from her fuzzy shirt to matching boots, a menacing smirk plastered on her all-too innocent face. Though, what stuck out was her hair. Long and unmistakable locks of blonde hair, weaving down to the dips of her hips.

Albeit, her eyes were an ordinary brown, but there was no mistaking those sharp and defined features. High cheekbones, straight nose, and . . . that damned smirk.

Slowly, too slow for Izuku's comfort, he eyed the male.

Short locks of blond hair, nearly platinum, framed his oddly . . . aggravating face. For his expression was taut and haughty as if he saw himself as something greater than. His clothes were quite similar to the woman's― but unlike her, a necklace settled around his neck. An assortment of red metals weaved between the string. He had everything Izuku was dreading, sharp features, smart-mouthed smirk. But unlike the woman, his eyes were an odd shade of blue-gray.

But there was no mistaking it.

"You're the one who's in a life-threatening situation," the man began, daring another step forward. "do you think it's a good idea to crack jokes?"

Izuku, living up to his reputation, went stone-faced. "I don't know, seemed like a good idea at the time," he said, voice void of emotion.

It was quiet for a few sickening moments. Izuku had taken the time to glance at his surroundings as he regained control over his body.

The air surrounding him was painfully cold, his nostrils constricting and slightly burned with each flow of cold wind the flittered through the windows. Though, he could hardly call them windows. More like cut-outs in the rocks walls with thin sheets of cloths pinned at the tops. Wooden beams aligned the ceiling along with the walls, each post covered with mismatched metals welded down to fit its structure.

Small metal trays were fastened by chains to the ceiling, multiple rows of candles littered across them. The only light source in the room. Wax dripped from the trays slow and agonizingly heated as they fell to the floor with a splatter.

Daring a glance at his confinements, Izuku resists the urge to huff as he comes to realize they too are made of metal. No chance of him breaking free from them.

Cuttingly, the blond boy took one step, two, three. He stopped just a few inches shy of Izuku, a taunting smirk displayed on his thin lips. "What's your name?"

"Kiss," Izuku replied smoothly, a smirk of his own lifting his features.

"'Kiss?'"

Briefly forgetting the fact that he'd been tied up, Izuku attempted to shrug only to wince before schooling his face once more. "Well, if you wanna get technical, my full is Kiss My Ass. My mom thought it sounded exotic," he added, nose twisting up thoughtfully.

The man blinked rapidly mouth agape as a sound somewhere between a sigh and laugh escaped his lips, albeit it was anything but friendly. Before Izuku could register what was happening a rough hand gripped his chin, hard and unforgiving, tilting his head so far down it shot spasms of pain through him. Then, cold as a fresh sheet of ice, he spoke in his ear.

"I don't appreciate sarcasm," the voice sent another spasm through the younger, though not from pain. No, from blood-curdling fear. "Now, I'll ask you again, what's your name?"

Izuku stared at him, a small fissure cracking through his stone-faced façade. He was faced with a very difficult choice, and with so little time to answer. With the firm grip on his chin only growing tighter and the phantom feeling of fire still burrowing itself into his bones, he opts for the wiser choice.

"Izuku,"

A single eyebrow arches slowly. "You got a last name, Izuku?" he says Izuku's name as an insult.

"Do you have a first?" he shot back easily, hissing under his breath as his wrists began to chafe against one another.

The man looked at him, hesitant. But before he could respond the woman was quick to answer for him.

"I'm Camie," she smiled, a phantom indent of a dimple fluttering across her cheeks before the smile dropped. "This is Neito."

A reprehensible feeling of unease locked itself within the core of the fire burning away inside Izuku, for Camie's gaze never let up after their introductions. Burning through him with intensity, something he didn't know how to decipher. After a moment, she seemed to realize his returned gaping, because another smile spread across her lips. Teetering to the edge―dangerously close to becoming another smirk.

"Okay, Camie," he purposefully addressed her, something Neito didn't seem to appreciate. "What do you want?"

"To know why the hell one of Shoto's spies was at our border," Neito cut in quickly.

Izuku remained silent, an innocent frown toying with his mouth. "Ah, but technically I wasn't at the border yet. You guys were the one that trespassed, isn't that breaking the armistice?" he had never been more grateful to be paying attention to when Shoto had gone on a rant than now.

Neito seemed to consider this for a moment, his breathing coming out in even strokes across Izuku's face. His eyes twitched―slipping into a glare the longer he stared at the younger male.

"Doesn't matter," he said this as if it were a fact of life, leaving no room for discussion. "The way our Ductor will see it, you were trying to break into our province to try and steal our prisoner back. Even though they broke the armistice first,"

"Did they?" Izuku mused.

Neito raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying otherwise?"

"Maybe,"

The air between the two was thick with an unspoken challenge, each party wanting nothing more than to gain something. Information. Power. The upper-hand. It was a coordinated yet difficult game of push and pull, a round of give and take if you will. And right now . . . Izuku could tell he was gaining leverage, as long as he played his cards right he'd find a way out of these damned chains.

That's when the real game could begin.

"Tell me, Nicky, wasn't it?" another blow to his ego. Izuku had remembered his name, but there was no doubt the man was a narcissist―which made for an untamable temper. "Out of plain curiosity where's Katsuki and Shinsou?"

Neito scoffed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. But Izuku didn't miss the way his lips pulled together tightly at the mention of the explosive blond. Distaste. The expression had fled just as quickly as it arrived―just not quick enough for Izuku not to notice.

"Now, where's the fun in telling you that?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Izuku arches his back upwards, trying to pull himself into a more comfortable position. Not that it seemed possible at the moment.

"Neito," Camie hissed impatiently, Izuku's broke fleetingly, he'd almost forgot about her. "C'mon, we have to show him to mom now if we want her full attention."

"Yeah, Neito," Izuku smiled wryly, "Go do what Camie said and get your mom. Listen to her,"

The anxiety bubbling inside of Izuku grappled at his senses, begging him to stop antagonizing the man. To put a stop to his foolish mind games. Doing whatever it could to get him to listen, despite what leverage he may think he'd find it didn't change the fact that he was the one tied up. Not the other way around.

But, of course―because who'd expect anything less from Izuku?―he didn't listen.

Something inside the blue-eyed blond seemed to snap at that last comment. A poorly-concealed scowl was aimed directly for Camie, and it was then and only then that Izuku's suspicions had been brought to the light. Quite literally, in fact. With the way Neito's face was angled in the dim light of the candles, there was no denying the resemblance.

Narrowed eyes. Locked jaw. Unforgiving glare.

"Shut up, Camie. Can't you see I'm busy?" Neito growled, turning his gaze back onto a smug Izuku.

"But―"

"Go patrol the village!" he roared, "That's an order,"

Camie glanced back and forth between Neito and Izuku―a look of confliction contorting her baby-like features before she schooled them into place. Shaking her head, she was out of sight almost instantly.

Izuku waited a few more seconds before speaking again. "'That's an order?'" he parroted, mulling over this, "What are you, apart of the Guard or something?"

Another phrase Izuku had picked up during one of Shoto's hissy-fits from before. Besides, he certainly seemed like a guard, what with the heavy weight of armor settled on his body.

"No," he nearly sounded offended by the question, a bemused sort of look flickering in the blue-gray irises of his eyes.

"Are you a Ductor?"

Neito's jaw clenched with an audible click, eyes hard once again. ". . . Not yet,"

"Hm, well, that explains a lot then," Izuku said with a wistful sigh, batting his eyelashes. The poster-child of innocence.

Neito had taken a few steps back, pacing back and forth with a thoughtful look. Izuku watched all the while, practically leaping with joy at the thought of getting under his skin. It was working―not that he had any doubt in his ability to aggravate someone. He seemed to be a professional at this, by now.

"Explains what?" he finally asked after a moment of silence.

"You're holier-than-thou personality," Izuku responds, carefully planning his next words. ". . . Obviously, you aren't in any position to assume leadership over this tribe any time soon. Someone's getting in the way of that, right? So, you need to prove to yourself―no, someone that you'd be the perfect candidate,"

Neito paused his motions, stared wide-eyed, and jaw-slacked at the boy. He'd hit the jackpot.

"Nobody important knows I'm here, right?" his emphasis on the word 'important' was just another blow to this boy's ego. "Everybody's so focused on Katsuki―" again, another quick glare at the name, "―but you'd know all about that, huh?"

"What is it that you're implying now, Izuku?" Neito asked his facial morphed expression back into its usual annoyed look. But his voice was too even, too calm, too overly collected. He was laying it on too thick in Izuku's opinion.

Izuku's bottom lip jutted out, his teeth softly clenching into the skin. "Because he's your brother. Younger, I'm assuming. You look a bit old,"

"Excuse me―"

"But the attention's always been on him, right? Katsuki does seem like the attention whore type, so I wouldn't doubt it," Izuku deadpanned, no emotion behind it. "But not as much as you are―it's only because you've starved of it."

Neito chuckled humorlessly, trying to reassert his dominance with intimidation as he loomed over Izuku. Lapping bottom lip over the top, running a tongue over it dexterously. His hands twitching at his sides―as if he were close to hitting something with them.

"You got all this from a conversation with me?" he asked, skeptical and hesitant. "Or did my idiot brother tell you all this, since you seem to know so damn much?"

"No, contrary to popular belief, I just met Katsuki days ago―I've barely had a few conversations with him myself. But it wasn't that hard to figure you out. And it wasn't from the conversation per se . . . more so your reactions to my words,"

He seemed pleased with himself, as he should be. Watching with concealed glee as Neito's glare only hardened, any anxiety from before officially snuffed from the light of the painful flames residing in his gut.

"Now, I don't know all the gory details of your petty family squabbles―and honestly, I don't really give a shit about them. But I do know this much," Izuku's face went blank, though his eyes told a more chilling tale as he spoke. "No matter how hard you try you're never going to be your brother, never going to be better than him. And that says a lot coming from me―the guy who hates him."

Izuku's voice dropped low, uncharacteristically so. "Do you wanna know why, Neito? Because you're a weak, submissive, self-centered, little boy who wants his mommy's approval. And Katsuki? Well, he takes what he wants―that much is clear . . . you cry and whine when shit doesn't go your way. Like a toddler seeking attention,"

The ache from whatever they had used on him before. . . well, all of this, was beginning to lose its edge. Izuku, still keeping his line of sight aligned with Neito's, carefully rolled his fists ignoring the burn as his skin rubbed harshly against one another. There wasn't much wiggle room for him to slip free, but at least he seemed to have control of his limbs.

Well, for the most part.

Neito looked, for a few sweet seconds, defeated. Izuku savored the expression on his face while it lasted, drinking in every last detail as if it were his last meal before an execution. Committing it to memory. But then those moments fizzled into nothing, and Izuku was left reeling from the high it brought him.

"You think you've got me all figured out, huh?"

"Yeah, actually. Hence the whole speech I just gave you," Izuku drawled.

With just a breath of air separating them, Izuku craned his neck away from the boy, trying to sink further back into the wooden post. They were too close for his comfort. Upper-hand or not, the proximity of their bodies was . . . all too much.

"Well, you don't," he snarled, a lie dripping through his teeth. "You're lucky I need you alive and kicking. Or else you'd be getting the same treatment as my brother,"

As if on cue, a howling cry of pain echoed through the rock walls of the mountains. Strangled and punched-out groans escaping from someone's body, it took Izuku a moment to realize who it was. He began to thrash in his chains at the sounds leaving Katsuki.

This wasn't supposed to happen, Shoto and the others were supposed to have gotten him by now. Damn it, where are they?

There were so many emotions flooding his system he barely had time to register them all, anger, concern, anxiety. But there biggest of them all―the one that governed his mind and heart―was his soul-shattering guilt. His ability to blame himself for something out of his control was silly but true. Guilt crashed through him in waves, heavy and cold as it seemed to freeze his nerves up. Perhaps the other figured out he had been captured as well and had to rearrange their plans.

No, they wouldn't go through the trouble to save him. They shouldn't. Katsuki and Shinsou were a top priority―they needed to get the hell out of here.

Neito grinned, shrugging out of his weighted armor and placing it on a nearby table. Rolling his shoulders with a few pops sounding off in the air. "Well, I'd better get going. Don't wanna keep my mother waiting too long . . . she gets impatient," he threw in a sly smile for good measure.

With this final exchange, Neito pulled back, spun on his heel, and walked away.

Izuku inhaled the piercingly cold air through his nose, allowing it to circulate through his lungs, calming his raging pulse before releasing it. Every few seconds another cry of pain would echo through the mountains followed by another deafening crack of a weapon slicing across flesh.

His wrists ached as they rubbed against one another, the skin growing raw and red. Lacking his usual finesse, he desperately tried to yank one of his hands through, much to his disliking he only injured himself further. With the metal digging into his bones it felt as if they'd snap in half.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Wait.

Smiling to himself, a wicked self-tortured smile, Izuku felt as bubbles of concern fluttered through him. He had broken his bones a lot as a child, dislocated them, fractured them. It didn't take long for him to realize how to do it on purpose―usually for the sake of getting out of lessons. Most of which centered around being physically active, not his strong suit.

Pressing hard on the raw skin of his lips, he twists his left wrist counterclockwise, groaning as his flesh tugged and pulled on its restraints. With his heart pounding heavily in his chest, eyes screwed shut, he angles his wrist upward so the bone is caught on the cliff of the chain.

Three . . . two . . . one―

Snap.

"Fucking shit―!" he bites down hard on his lips, swallowing whatever string of screams and curse words threatening to spill out. Nearly instantly, searing pain shot from his wrist down to his forearm.

Pathetic whines tear through his throat as he begins to wiggle his dislocated wrist free, throbbing pain accompanied by the occasional wince coming along with his movements. Eventually, after minutes of failing, he had pulled his wrists free. Gripping onto the wooden bean for support using his good hand.

Slowly sliding onto the floor, Izuku pants heavily, sluggishly untying his feet from the post; silently thankful they had used rope for his legs. He couldn't handle another dislocated bone.

When that was all done his attention was pulled back to his wrist, aching and pulsing. He'd need to wear a splint, but there was no time for that now.

After scavenging around the room, trying not to draw attention to himself to whoever may be lurking nearby, he finds some bandages. Quick to wrap his wrist, he applies as much pressure on it as he can―ignoring the biting pain―then pops it back into place. That was going to be a bitch to deal with.

It was still sore, painfully so, but not too much to where he couldn't move it.

Good.

"C'mon, Izuku . . . think, think, think . . ." he chanted lowly under his breath, eyes darting frantically around the room.

That's when they landed on the piece of armor Neito had left behind, quickly he slipped into it, mindful of his sore wrist as he did so. There wasn't much use in it―aside from the small, concealable knife tucked away in one of the inner pockets―but it would have to do.

Taking in a deep breath, he slowly made the trek outside.

He gasped as he gazed at his rocky surroundings, the mountains were large, with unsteady edges and untrustworthy paths that led to God knows where. Small huts and rooms carved―which Izuku soon realized were once caves―from the mountains themselves were sporadically spread out. But what caught his attention was the speckle of light shining at the bottom of the mountains, where a small valley resided. Nestled between two large walls of rock and dirt.

The heart of the village.

He'd make sure to avoid that.

Thus began his journey, side-stepping down a steep and narrow path, eyes listening and eyes keen. He ignored the biting impulse of fear scathing his insides, focusing on the sounds of Katsuki's punched-out screams and groans. As if that were supposed to be soothing him.

Eventually, the sounds grew closer, a large frame of light haloing from another cave-room. Akin to the one he had been held captive in. Just as he was about to enter, he stopped himself. Four large silhouettes stood proudly within the light, casting shadows outside.

He pressed his back tightly against the wall, still blanketed in the comforts of shadows before he peered to his side. Taking a quick peek into the room, he counted four smug-faced guards, clearly having fun with torturing the poor blond. Probably releasing all of their pent of rage they'd harbored over Katsuki from the years.

Though one of them seemed to be rather bored than amused and smug, enjoying himself but not nearly as much as his friends. Izuku took in his size, eyeing the long spear cradled to his chest as he leaned against the wall looking idly at his nails.

Izuku's heart hammered away like thunder in his chest, the onslaught of blood-flow invading his veins acting as rain watering his nervous system. This is it. The only way to save Katsuki and Shinsou and make it out alive was if he killed along the way . . . Well, he already murdered the two people that gave him life―what's four more strangers gonna hurt?

He picked up a heft rock with his good hand, the small knife held under the loose grip of his weaker hand. He tossed it a little way into the room, sucking in a breath as the bored-looking guard's eyes snapped in his direction.

"Did you guys hear that?" he whispered frantically to his friends, his young features shining vehemently in the candlelight.

The older men guffawed, waving him off. "Go check it out, Rookie. Maybe it's a mountain lion,"

The younger boy dropped into a crouch, both hands gripping his spear now. The trio of men had their backs turned to him, their attention on a writhing Katsuki who had murder dancing in his eyes. As if he would do anything to break out of those chains and slice their throats one by one. Izuku nearly laughed at the sight.

As the boy drew closer Izuku scooted further into the shadows, tossing another rock his way, watching as he froze to stare down at it. Beads of sweat began to gather at the crown of the boy's head, threatening to spill down to his brow as he stopped at the edge of where light met dark. Eyes scanning the area.

Slowly, Izuku shifted the knife into his good hand, gripping it tightly. The boy's back was to him, staring at the night sky. He seemed to have forgotten all about the small rocks, chalking it up to be his imagination or something of that sort. Just as he was about to release a sigh of relief, Izuku wrapped an arm around his neck clasping a hand down over his mouth and using most of his weight to pull him into the shadows with him.

Just as the boy began to thrash, he stuck the knife deep with his jugular, closing his eyes tightly before he could watch the blood spill from the wound. As long as he didn't pay attention to the aftermath he'd be all right.

Don't look, don't look, don't look.

His hands felt wet and sticky, no matter how hard he averted his eyes it didn't stop the sound from reaching his ears. Droplets of blood splattering on the pavement. Drip, drip, drip. A shudder raked through his body as he reached down blindly for the spear.

The stick was slippery in his grip but he managed to get a good hold on it eventually, softly rolling the body over with his foot.

A hand gripped his leg, Izuku didn't need to look down to know it was the boy. So young, so innocent. Still, he kept his gaze hard and impassive, kicking his leg from the boy's dying hold.

"Rookie?" another voice called out, hard and gruff. "Cayman this isn't funny. Come on out!"

"Where'd he go?" another man questioned.

Izuku dared a peek over the side of the rocks, it was quick but enough to know what was happening inside. The three had paused their torturing―all of them turned around to face the door to the room.

Damn it, he couldn't take on all three of them at once.

It was hard to hear their voices over the ear-splitting booming of his heartbeat.

"You two stay here―keep an eye on the prisoner," a man with slicked-back hair said, "I'll go check around the perimeter."

He was much larger than the boy, slim but strong with eyes that held years of wisdom and experience in them. Izuku gripped the spear tighter, eyes slipping close.

As long as he stayed in the shadows he had the upper hand. He could blitz attack them all, recuse Katsuki and Shinsou, and make it out alive . . . maybe.

The man held two weapons in each hand, blades with the tips curved inward. Now, it could have been his eyes playing tricks on him, but Izuku swore he saw dried blood still settled on them.

Unlike the boy, this man noticed Izuku fairly quickly, his neutral expression morphing into that of a predator cornering its prey. He lunged at him, weapons raised and prepared to strike down. Izuku lifted the spear in front of him, the man's blade getting caught in the sturdy wood.

Izuku's hand throbbed like nobody's business, but he pushed past his pain, using all of his strength to push the man onto the floor. Though it was futile―within seconds he had been flipped onto his back, his head now dangerously close to the edge of a cliff.

"Volren, everything okay out there?" one of the men from before called out.

Just as he was about to respond, Izuku landed a swift punch to his face. Placing his hand down over Volren's mouth. They wrestled a bit on the floor, trying to flip the other off the edge of the cliff. But as luck would have it, Izuku proved victorious.

Digging his knee deep into Volren's groin, he pushes the man over again. Izuku grabbed an arm and a leg to roll Volren off the cliff's edge. His screams echoed from the fall, stopping short seconds later.

So much for discretion.

"Hey!"

Izuku's eyes widened, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he was quick to toss aside the spear and grab the two blades. Without so much as taking a minute to breathe, he charged in the room, swinging the weapons around wildly.

Surprised by his sudden appearance, the two men stumble away from him, distancing themselves. Izuku had managed to scratch one of their cheeks―albeit he wasn't too focused on taking them down . . . just fending them off. Before any of them could lunge at him, Izuku was quick to cut off the ropes from Katsuki's hands and feet.

"You fucking psycho!" Katsuki scoffed, rubbing his sore wrists.

Deep gashes littered his chest, soaking his skin like rivers of blood. Bruises bloomed left and right across his skin―but aside from that, he seemed to be doing well enough on his own.

Whatever sarcastic remark Izuku had died on his tongue as one of the men lunged at him. He fell to the floor with a sickening crack, his skull pulsing with white-hot pain. The kind that left you numb and reeling. His vision had become uneven, blurred around the edges as he tried to understand what had just happened.

There was commotion all around the room, screaming, the shattering sound of glass breaking, bodies colliding onto the floor.

Izuku snapped back to reality when a fist punched into his stomach. It was hard and fast, making whatever food he had eaten hours ago churn and threaten to come back up. Then another punch. And another. More kept coming to the point where he lost count.

"Fuck!" the man on top of him shouted, cradling the side of his face.

Izuku had clawed him rather hard, he could feel blood and flakes of skin burrowing beneath his fingernails.

"You son of a bitch," he glowered, reaching blindly behind him with an eye closed.

Izuku managed to pant out. "Awe, there's no need to bring my mother into this. She's dead, man,"

The next few moments happened so fast, the freckled boy was certain it was all a dream. But as soon as the pain settled in, he realized that was far from it.

A blade ran deep within in right thigh, slicing past a bundle of nerves and layers of skin, nearly hitting the bone. Somebody screamed . . . It took Izuku a few seconds to realize it was himself, for the voice sounded so unlike his. Crippled and blood-curdling. The kind of scream that sent a cold sweat down the notches of your spine.

His hands shot out instantly to his leg. Feeling the wet pulse of blood spew at a slow and steady pace at his fingertips.

Just as he felt two large hands wrap around the base of his throat, tauntingly flexing his fingers as if he were about to squeeze, the pressure on his neck had let up. He could barely make out the blurry figure of Katsuki's bloodied body.

Though, it was enough to tell that he was enjoying himself a little too much.

Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. Fuck, it felt like hours. So, much had happened with so little time for him to process it all.

"Hey, Izuku―" a hand pressed lightly against his cheek. "―wake up. We got to get the fuck out of here,"

"Can't . . . move . . ." Izuku rasped, pointing to his leg.

The blurry-like Katsuki looked down, eyes widening as he cursed under his breath. "Okay . . . Okay . . . fuck―where are the others? Why is it just you?"

"I don't know," Izuku whimpered, head spinning with pain. "We got separated . . . they got me . . . your brother, I―"

"My brother?" Katsuki gasped, scarlet eyes darkening as he shook his head. "I'm going to get you out of here, okay? Don't move,"

"I can't move!" Izuku managed to yell, eyes pricking with beads of wet liquid.

"Right, right. Sorry . . ."

It was obvious the boy was freaking out, practically ransacking the small room before returning with a large piece of fabric. Katsuki placed it over the wound, careful not to remove the blade, he tightened the cloth around his thigh.

Izuku hissed in between his teeth, feeling some of the bleeding beginning to slow. It hurt like hell, but it was necessary.

"You said my brother had you?" Katsuki asked, gently lifting Izuku into a sitting position.

"Yeah . . . yeah," Izuku breathed heavily, finally taking in the boys' injuries. "Your chest―"

"I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you though . . . What the fuck were you thinking?" Katsuki shook his head. "I'm surprised Shoto made you come. They could've killed you,"

Izuku shrugged, wincing as Katsuki helped him stand on one leg. He shifted his weight, using the blond for support.

"Well, last time I checked Shoto isn't in charge of what I get to do . . . Besides . . . I wanted to come . . . on my own accord,"

Katsuki's breathing was labored―not nearly as much as Izuku's―as they staggered across the room. "You wanted to come? Are you fucking crazy?"

"A thank you would suffice, jackass," Izuku scoffed, biting his lip as his leg brushed against Katsuki's a little too hard.

The blond paused, looking at the younger with something between admiration and annoyance caught in his eyes. Of course, the expression was gone just as quickly as it had come. It shifted into something more serious―calculating as he listened outside for any signs of people coming.

"What're you―?"

"Shh," Katsuki shushed, "Let me think,"

Normally, Izuku would have snapped at him for interrupting too many times. But with his leg pounding and wrist aching and head throbbing . . . he couldn't bring himself to properly blink, let alone pick a fight.

"Fuck it," Katsuki sighed, bending down to hoist Izuku onto his back.

Izuku's eyes widened. "Katsuki, your injuries! You shouldn't be―"

"Relax, Doc, I got this. It doesn't hurt that bad," the sour expression on his face said otherwise, "I'm assuming you don't know where Shinsou is . . . Or else this all would've gone a lot smoother. We'll go find him, get the hell out of here, and find our where the others are later,"

Izuku chewed on his lip dexterously, leaving it mottled and red in his wake. He gave in a succumbing sigh, nodding his head as he wrapped his arms tightly around the boy's neck.

"Fine. This is a stupid plan . . . but fine . . ."

"Hey, I know this place, and it's people, like the back of my hand―there's nothing they can do that I haven't thought of first. Just don't talk or draw any more unnecessary attention towards us and I won't have to resort to using you as a sacrifice to save myself," Katsuki grinned, probably for Izuku's sake.

Katsuki's grip on Izuku's calves tightened as he stepped into the chilling night air. Within minutes they were jumping in the shadows of the mountains, dipping into small valleys and behind impenetrable walls.

Just as Izuku was about to calm down, his heartbeat stilling, and breathing evening out. He felt as Katsuki's shoulders tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck practically standing as they skidded to a stop.

For just a few feet in front of them, draped in shadows as well, three large figures were waiting.

"Awe, shit―"

HELLO CRICKET CULTISTS!!

I WROTE 6K FUCKING WORDS FOR THIS CHAPTER BITCHES (another record-breaking chapter) can I get a hell yeah?

Welcome back to a series of ya girl writing long-ass chapters! To be honest I've had this chapter done since Sunday, but I spent a lot of time editing it to make sure I got it write. The fighting scenes were kind of hard for me.

What do we think of how Izuku handled the situation here?

I really like how I made his character. I wanted to tap in to how he is in the anime with my own special dash of Cricket Angst onto it XD He's calculating and pays attention to the finer details, but he's sassy in this fic which I fucking adore.

I can't wait to go more into depth with Katsuki's character next chapter! 

Let me know what you think!

Questions?

Comments?

Anything?

Until we meet again!!!