A loud rumble startles him awake. His heart pounds as he flips onto his other side and fumbles for his sword. Eventually, he grasps the handle and lets the sheath fall to the floor.
Moonlight pours in through the window, giving the boy just enough light to blink away sleep and see that the room is empty. Except for the dragon boy rattling the walls with his snoring, of course.
With a groan, his head falls back onto the pillow, heart still racing.
After a moment of settling himself, he closes his eyes. Only for them to shoot open at the next snore.
So, he rolls on his side and glares down at the source of all his miseries.
The dragon is sprawled over the length of the hardwood floor, the blanket forgotten. Saliva drools out of the corner of his wide-open mouth. His horns, much smaller in this form, glow in the moonlight.
They sit innocently among his bright red locks.
Would they be enough?
The sword settles heavily in his hand. The dragon wouldn't wake. It would be easy.
Then, he lays the sword down, gets up, steps over the dragon boy, and leaves. His fists itch to finish this, but his legs know better. Night air nips at his bare chest as he walks the empty roads. The cold clears his head like fog receding from a lake, but something heavy simmers in the dark below.
The black symbol of Fallen Star on his shoulder glares at him. It asks him, what are you doing? You're wasting time! Its disbelief and anger seep into his skin farther than the ink.
The dragon is still asleep. Undoubtedly, it would be painless. One strike across his throat. He'd never know. No one would ever know. It would be easy. It would save countless lives.
Fiery chains squeeze around his spirit in retaliation to these thoughts. The boy has made an oath. Though the words were not those of ritual, it was a binding oath all the same. To deny his word is to forsake his honor, a crime his people would not accept.
At least they'd be alive, the mark whispers.
He covers it, fingernails digging into his skin.
The light ahead steals his attention. It pours out the windows of a more run-down tavern. He must've wandered all the way across town. The tavern is undoubtedly filled with Endeavorans drinking well into the night. Three extremely-satisfied patrons stumble out, swaying on their feet and hollering at each other.
He picks up his pace and splays out his fingers to cover more of the designs twirling around his bicep.
One looks at him; his wide grin is full of yellow and rotted teeth. "Heyy, man! N'ver seen you 'round here b'fore! You hic try this place yet? Bastrd's got the best in town! Don let n'one tell you other-hic-wise!"
The blond shoulders past the man, but three sets of footsteps follow him.
"Hey, wait up!"
He doesn't make it far before a hand catches his wrist. His muscles tense.
"Let go."
The man leans in, and the smell of cheap booze invades his nose. "C'monn! Lem-lemme buy you a hic drink!"
He pries the hand off his wrist and throws it back at the man.
"Not interested."
Another man, older with stringy gray hairs littering his face, squints at him. Then he asks the third, arguably the soberest of the group, "Wha's that thing on 'is arm?"
He slaps his hand back over his mark and tries to get past the third in his way. The man is larger with broad shoulders.
The third glares down at him with rigid scrutiny. Then his brow raises. "It's one of them." His voice is cold, with something dangerous clawing to the surface.
The other two stare at him long and hard before coming to the same conclusion. They grumble at each other and spit their ire at him.
"My brthers dead 'cause of you!" the first shouts, shoving a crooked finger into his chest.
Slowly, he reaches down to his hip. He freezes. His sword. It's not there. His sword is currently lying on the bed next to that stupid lizard.
They surround him like a pack of wolves. The second one blocks him from behind. He also looks the thinnest.
So, the boy clenches his fist, curses the dragon once again, and pivots on his foot, punching the man square in his nose. "Die!"
The man topples over with a cry. A hand lands on his shoulder, but the face connected is swiftly met with the boy's knuckles. The first stumbles before the boy kicks him to the ground.
As he turns around to finish the third, he's knocked back. Pain flares in his cheek. He rewinds his fist up, but a punch to his side sends him careening into the third. Two calloused hands grip his arms and drag him back into the space between two buildings.
He sees the stone wall for less than a second before he slams into it. The three brandish their knuckles as they approach. So, he spits out a glob of blood, steadies himself against the wall, and growls, "That all you got?"
"That won't be necessary."
A person leaps from the cobblestone wall and lands in front of him. A bright blue cloak billows around his form, silver trim glinting in the moonlight. White, pristine boots touch the ground in a rehearsed stance. He points his rapier at the men. The thin metal is polished with rare jewels encrusted in the hilt.
"I'd advise you all to return home before you make greater fools of yourselves."
The second man's face is flushed with either alcohol or anger, likely both. He pulls a dagger from his pocket. "Get outta the way!"
The cloaked stranger remains still. There is mirth in his otherwise monotone voice when he replies, "Have it your way."
The men charge, but their actions are irrelevant when the stranger darts forward, sword flicking the dagger away. It flies until it embeds into a wall. The man falls back in surprise, looking from his hand to the wall and back.
The third sends a powerful fist into the stranger, but he, in turn, grabs the man's arm and uses his momentum to throw him in a large arc into the first, his footwork disciplined and perfect.
The second stands, now alone. He audibly gulps as the sword's point is thrust in his face.
"Yield," the stranger commands.
He glances at his friends, back to the sword, then turns tail and bolts from the alleyway. The two on the ground watch in disbelief, then look at the stranger.
The stranger shrugs the blade at them. The men, in turn, scramble to their feet and flee. With a huff, the stranger sheaths his sword and pivots on his unscuffed boots. "Walking the streets at this time of night isn't wise."
The boy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, unfazed at the smear of blood on it. "I didn't need your help."
Then he lifts his hood and lets it fall to his shoulders. "Though, you were never quite that wise, were you, Prince Katsuki?"
"Don't call me that!" he snaps more violently than usual. He brushes himself off, grumbling, "Stupid half n' half."
The only sign of amusement on his face is the slight upturn of the corner of his lips. "Whatever are you doing here?"
"What're you doing running around at night fighting drunks?"
Half n' half fixes his cloak over his shoulders. "Visiting a friend."
"On the rooftops?"
"I'd prefer to keep my habits private."
"Yeah, and your little hood saturated with dye and metals sewn into it is the perfect commoner disguise."
The prince's cheeks flush, and he fixes the cloak again. "I don't own anything better suited for this. Anyways, you didn't answer my question."
"None of your business." He pushes off the wall and starts walking.
Todoroki sidesteps into his path. "It is my business."
"Get outta my way, Icyhot."
"You wouldn't come here without a purpose, Katsuki."
He stands level with the prince and growls, "Don't call me that."
Heterochromatic eyes search his in confusion before they widen in realization.
"Your quirkquest," he says like that answers everything. His stance relaxes. "I apologize for my rudeness. What do I call you?"
"Don't care," he answers as he shoulder-checks the prince.
Footsteps follow him until the prince arrives at his side. "Perhaps I could be of some assistance."
The blond turns out of the alleyway and back towards the bed he rightfully paid for, for the night. Todoroki pulls his hood back over his head. "Oh, yeah? And why would you do that?"
"You know why." His irritated tone isn't lost on the boy. "My father won't be pleased to hear of your presence."
He throws the prince a glare.
"I won't tell him. I'd just rather no one else has the chance either."
He crosses his arms over his chest, drawing his eyes to his markings. "What do you know about dragons?"
"They aren't real. I've never seen one," he hums.
"Know anyone who has?"
Todoroki blinks. "Is that your quest? To find a dragon?"
"Something like that."
"Well, there are no dragons in Endeavor, but there has been talk of some creature terrorizing the southeastern villages."
He grunts for the other to continue.
"Peasants have been traveling to the palace in search of aid. They speak of trampled crop fields and scattered animal remains and their forests. If it continued, they would find themselves in a famine." He pauses to choose his words. "The king sent hunters to investigate, but they returned with nothing. We haven't heard any further complaints, so the creature must have moved on."
"That's it?"
"I'm afraid so."
They pause in front of the tavern entrance.
"You'll send my regards to Chief Mitsuki, won't you?"
"Keep your icy hot regards to yourself."
Todoroki tilts his head to meet his gaze head-on, the only sign of his amusement. "Charmed to see you, as always. Good fortune on your quest."
The blond waves him away with the flap of his hand. "Yeah, yeah. Go bathe in some liquid gold, or whatever it is you do." He opens the door.
"Hey."
"What?" he groans as he turns back. A shock of cold bounces against his chest. He fumbles with the slippery chunk of ice, then looks back up.
A puff of fog spills from his lips as he says, "For the bruises."
The blond grumbles his goodbyes and slams the door behind himself.
The dragon boy now lays on a blanket on his belly. The first light of dawn peeks through the window.
Unceremoniously, the blond grabs the blanket's corners and yanks them up. The dragon roles several times over, all the while whining his protests. It gave him some satisfaction when the dragon hit his head on the bed frame.
"C'mon, lizard brain, it's time to go!"
The dragon sits on his knees, rubbing his head with both hands. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, then looks up at the blond with a smile. "Yes. Let's go!"
He scowls at the dragon.
"Where are we going?"
The blond drags a palm down his face. "To go find your dragon friends."
The trail thins and the dragon falls behind before catching up. "Yes, but..." He doesn't seem to have the word he needs, so he repeats, "Where are we going?"
"Southeast."
"Where is southeast?"
He clenches and releases his fists in steady pulses. "We'll find out when we get there."
"Dragons are in southeast?"
"I don't know!" he snaps. "We'll find out when we get there!"
"Can I not just fly us to southeast? Much faster."
"No! Unless you want every Endeavoran in these woods to know we're here, you can't go around showing off your giant hide!"
The dragon boy falls back again, grumbling, "Much-"
"Would you just shut up!" He kicks a stick out of his way. "I want to get this over with, but I can't think with you yapping stupid ideas in my ear all day!" Footsteps ceased behind him, so he turned. "What-"
The dragon boy stands frozen with his nose twitching. His eyes shrink into thin slits. His hands tense and relax with his breathing until his head snaps to the side and red claws erupt from his fingers.
Then he bolts off the trail and into the thick bushes.
"Hey!" The blond makes a quick chase. "Where do you think you're going!?"
He sprints in a straight line, leaping over large rocks and sliding under logs that the blond needs to go around. For a moment, he loses sight of the dragon in the distance. He calls for him, but he makes no acknowledgment of it.
Finally, the blond pushes a low-hanging tree branch out of his face and steps into a clearing. "What the hell-" he trails off as he pulls his hand away from the leaves, red flakes covering his fingertips.
He looks up, and his heart jumps.
The clearing is layered in dried blood. The substance covers all the plant life and mangled metal structures which could've once been called cages. Some trees are blackened with scorch marks that branch off into sharp points. Bodies in simple clothes lay about. Hunters, his mind supplies, but not enough hunters to man the large cages.
The dragon boy kneels in the eye of the storm, shoulders slumped.
Slowly, the blond creeps forward with a hand on his sword. "Whoever did this could still be here." He angles to the side to get a clear view of his face. Tears run down his blank face as he stares at the single dragon scale cupped in his hands.
He keeps his eyes on the treeline. "Do you know what happened here?"
The redhead traces the edge of the sharp yellow scale.
"Eijirou."
He reluctantly tears his gaze away from the scale to look around.
"This is where they took me."
"The Endeavoran hunters?" The blond asks.
"I was gone too long." His voice shakes as he clenches the scale. "Others came for me."
A wail erupts from Eijirou as his forehead falls to the dirt, yellow scale held safe in his hands beneath him. Growls and sobs pour from his lips in another language as his tears water the earth.
The blond stands a length away from the boy, eyes turned to the tree line. His jaw clenches as he cringes away from the display. He'd never been the first to comfort someone.
Eventually, the boy quiets and rises to his feet.
"Look for a trail. They can't have gotten—what're you doing?"
Steam seeps out of the dragon boy's skin. Ruby scales rise, and his body starts to shift.
"Hey!" The blond marches over. "Did you not hear me? You can't transform!"
"Need—"The sound comes out low and gravelly as his face grows longer. "Need to check." The steam envelopes his form, but a shadow shows him twisting and growing until two magnificent wings unfurl, touching either side of the clearing.
"Need to check what!?"
The dragon pushes out of the fog, eyes set ahead.
The blond jogs beside him, pounding his fist on the rock-solid scales of his leg. "Where're you going!?"
The dragon picks up speed as he weaves between the trees. The blond then leaps and grabs onto his tail. Wind whips past his face as the dragon thrashes his tail as he runs. He climbs up the dragon's back using his spines as handholds until he reaches his neck. He wraps an arm around his neck, grabs his ear with the other, and shouts, "Stop it, you lizard brain! You're going to get me caught!"
The dragon bounds through the forest and spreads his wings further as the trees thin out. Ahead of them, the dirt turns into a sharp drop they will soon fall over.
"Stop it, or we're going to die!" He yanks on the dragon's ear until the dragon pulls it away.
Tightly packed muscle rolls beneath him as the creature races towards the cliff, tucks in his wings, and leaps off it with a powerful kick of his back legs. Wind dries his eyes as they plummet toward the trees below them. His scream is lost to the wind as he shuts his eyes and holds onto the dragon.
Then he's jerked upward, and the pressure fades. Hesitantly, he cracks open an eye to see the dragon's wings spread out, catching the current. Trees flashed by distantly underneath them, sending a new shock to his racing heart. His grip tightens on the dragon's neck. Then the dragon turns to look at the boy.
The blond pushes his arms away from the dragon with a scowl. "Don't look so smug."
The dragon beats his wings. The motion has the boy grabbing at him again. Then he rumbles, and it sounds an awful lot like laughter.
"Whatever!" There aren't many villages around them, but a bright red spot in the sky wouldn't be hard to spot on a sunny day. "You gonna tell me where we're going or not?"
The dragon jerks his head forwards. Ahead of them in the far distance is a large lake with an island in the middle.
"The island?"
He nods.
"Is that where the dragons are?"
He nods again.
The boy narrows his eyes. "If you knew where they were this whole time, why didn't you say something?"
His ears pin against his neck, and his lips pull back into an awkward smile.
The dragon's previous words ring through his head. "Need to check."
The blond smacks his fist against his scales. "You said you were the only free one left! You liar!"
The dragon rumbles something like an apology.
The blond scowls and turns his gaze ahead. There are other dragons on that island.
So why does this one need his help?
Suddenly sitting on this creature's back feels a lot less like riding a tamed beast and more like a kill being brought back to the pack.
AN: haha I totally didn't forget to post this here...