the long way home

by abby1kenobi (orphan_account)

Summary:

"there isn't a train i wouldn't take, no matter where it's going."

Katsuki was always going to be an outlaw, and Eijirou was always going to find him - right here.

It was always going to be this. From the moment Katsuki snuck out of his house in the middle of the night at fifteen.

 

did someone say they wanted a historical krbk 1800s AU? no?
well, if they do, tell 'em it's here.

Notes:

• For BornDead.

outlaw bkg and bounty hunter kiri in nineteen hours? sign me up.

if u see any typos, no u dont

but if u see any tags i missed, i try to get all the big ones, but i may have missed some. i wrote all of this during a nineteen hour marathon and i am tired so my sincerest apologies if i missed anything.

PLEASE NOTE THAT THERE IS NO MCD HERE. EVERYONE LIVES.

Katsuki looks up at the man towering over him. He’s tired, and it takes a moment to blink into clarity. 

 

The man’s red hair frames his face, sharp teeth glinting in the glow of the dying fire. There’s a scar above his eyelid, and most people think it’s new, but it’s been there a long time. Katsuki sighs. 

 

“Well, it’s about time,” he says, sitting up in his bedroll. “Took you long enough to find me.”

 

“This is the first time in eleven years you’ve spent more than a day in one place. I found you a long time ago,” the man grins. He squats down, level with Katsuki. “You ready?”

 

“I’ve been ready for a long time, Ei. Just waiting on you.”

 

The redhead, Eijirou Kirishima, extends a hand. 

 

“Let’s go, then. It’s a long way home.”

 

- eleven years earlier -

 

Katsuki is fifteen. He’s a runaway. 

 

He left his parent’s home in the middle of the night a week ago, and he’s been hitching rides from town to town in wagons and on the backs of horses. He’s far enough from home now that they couldn’t find him if they wanted to, but he suspects they don’t want to. 

 

He’s in a bar, head down, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. 

 

He still looks like a kid, and the barkeep will kick him out if he notices how young he is. Not because he’s too young to drink - but because he’s too young to be able to pay. He’s scratching out a letter to his family to tell them he won’t be coming back.

 

They were gonna marry him off to some girl in their town - her father was a big shot cattle rancher, and if Katsuki married his daughter, her wealth would become his, and his parents foolishly assumed he would share the money with them.

 

Wrong on two counts - one, Katsuki wouldn’t share his last sip of water with them if they were on fire, and two? Katsuki didn’t care much for girls.

 

He glances around the bar and sees a group of men playing cards.

 

Katsuki doesn’t have much money, but he’s good at cards. He pockets his paper and pen, deciding to forgo the letter - if his parents don’t know by now why he’d run off, they didn’t deserve to know.

 

“Y’all got room for one more?” He asks, making his voice sound younger than he normally does. He doesn’t know these men - but he knows they’re probably not exactly upstanding citizens. They’ll be more than willing to let him play for what little money he has, thinking they’ll be able to wipe the floor with him and teach him a lesson about playing with “the big boys.”

 

“Depends, kid,” says a tired looking man with a ratty white cloth around his neck. “How much you got for the buy-in?”

 

“Only a couple dollars, but I’d like to learn how to play.” Katsuki takes a coin from his pocket and holds it out to the man. “I know the basics, but I ain’t never played a real game before.”

 

He sees the glint in the man’s eye, before the coin is snatched from his hand and tossed into the large pile in the middle.

 

“Sit down, kid. We ain’t gonna go easy on you. You better pray for a little bit of luck.” The man snickers, and the others around the table scoff and roll their eyes. Katsuki takes his seat.

 

He wins the first hand, feigning surprise. The men around the table grumble, chastising the tired man - Shouta? - for letting the kid play. Shouta shrugs them off, and Katsuki can tell the lie is working. Shouta thinks he’s gonna take all of Katsuki’s money, and that Katsuki will run home to Mama and Shouta will be four dollars richer.

 

He loses the next few hands - and Shouta winks at another man at the table - a loud man with a tiny mustache - as if to say, see? Kid got lucky. 

 

But Katsuki’s always been good at math - and he’s always been better at lying. There’s no luck involved here.

 

Not yet.

 

Two hours later, the pot’s starting at $60. Katsuki’s getting tired of playing. So he stretches, yawns, says, “This’ll be my last hand and then I gotta get home for supper.”

 

The men chuckle. They’ve relaxed a bit, and one of the men has even leaned over and given Katsuki a few tips. 

 

The cards are run, and Katsuki schools his face. He furrows his brow, staring at his cards, but he knows he’s won. Two of the men fold, so it’s Katsuki, Shouta, and the loud man.

 

The loud man says, “I’ll raise ya three dollars,” and Katsuki matches. 

 

Shouta grins. He gives Katsuki a look that borders on pity and makes his blood boil. “I’ll double that.”

 

The loud man groans dramatically and folds. 

 

Katsuki looks at his cards, and then looks at the money on the table in front of him. He’s got enough to match, but he’ll be all in. 

 

Well, fuck it. He is getting tired, even if he doesn’t have a supper to get home to. 

 

“Um,” he pretends to think. “If I match, I won’t have any money, will I?” 

 

Shouta nods. “That’s what that means, boy.”

 

Katsuki chews his lip for a moment before pushing his money to the center of the table. “Guess I’ll match.”

 

Shouta leans back in his chair. “Show ‘em.” He gestures to the cards in Kat’s hand. 

 

They set their cards down at the same time. The loud man flips over two more cards. 

 

There’s a Jack on the table - it’s been there since the beginning of the hand.

 

Shouta has a Jack and a nine.

 

Katsuki has a Jack, too.

 

And an ace.

 

There’s a brief moment of silence - Shouta glances down at Katsuki’s cards and his eyes snap back up to Katsuki’s own. His dark eyes flash, seeming almost red with anger, and the loud man gapes, silent for the first time since Katsuki sat down.

 

Katsuki stands up so quickly the chair he was sitting in falls backward - the sound attracts the attention of the rest of the saloon. Shouta’s hand flies to his hip, and Katsuki knows he’s only got a few seconds.

 

He grabs two handfuls of the cash on the table and bolts. As he slams the bar doors open, he hears the first shot ring out before he feels the bullet fly right above his shoulder.

 

The second shot hits the front of the building across the street. Katsuki runs as fast as his legs will carry him.

 

He rounds a corner, jumps a fence, and sprints into a field. He doesn’t stop running until he reaches the trees on the far side. He hears the men from the bar hollering for him, telling him to come out. They say if he just returns their money, they won’t give him any trouble. He stays still and silent. 

 

After what feels like hours, but can’t be more than a few minutes, the voices fade. Katsuki stands and keeps walking through the woods. He doesn’t have any of his stuff, but he didn’t have much to begin with. He’s got money now, anyway. He can just buy more.

 

It gets darker, and Katsuki sees the trees thinning out. There’s a barn in the distance, and Katsuki makes his way there. He opens it to find the prettiest black horse he’s ever seen in his life.

 

The house on the property is dark. Whoever owns this barn and this horse is asleep. He sits down in the stall next to the horse, who watches him calmly. He counts his money in the moonlight.

 

Fifty-three dollars.

 

He can go a long way on fifty-three dollars.

 

-x-

 

Fifty-three dollars got him two sets of clothes and two train tickets to a city 800 miles away - one for him, and one for his new, pretty black horse.

 

At almost sixteen, and with no work experience to speak of, he finds himself tying off his horse outside a saloon. He figures it can’t hurt to try and run the same trick again - pretend to be younger than he is, play poker with a bunch of old cowboys, win a little money. But as he’s tying off his horse - Dynamite - he overhears two drunkards talking about betting on “the next fight.”

 

Apparently, there’s a barn not far from here that holds special nights for people to go and beat the shit out of each other for money. The way the men talk, the fights are usually between young men looking to make a name for themselves.

 

And Katsuki’s been in fights - traveling alone at fifteen means you end up learning a lot of shit you wouldn’t if you’d just married that girl your parents wanted you to marry. So he knows how to fight. More importantly, he knows how to win in a fight.

 

“When’s the next one?” Katsuki hollers over. The two men turn to look at him.

 

“Why? You wantin’ to die standing up? Whaddaya got to prove, boy?” 

 

“Ain’t gotta prove nothin’. Just wanna fight. Been a long time since I had a good one, and I could do with winnin’ some money on top of it.” Katsuki shrugs. He’s used to people thinking he’s weak. He kind of likes it when they do - the look on their faces is always the best prize when he wins.

 

“In a few hours. But I don’t know if you wanna get in on it tonight - apparently there’s a new boy who’s a real curly wolf. You might wanna sign up for a fight with another namby-pamby.” The men laugh. Katsuki turns fully to face them.

 

“I like a challenge. Who do I need to talk to?”

 

The men look at each other and shrug. They point Katsuki down the road, to a saloon with a broken window and one door missing.

 

“Ask for Rumi.”

 

Katsuki tips his hat, unties Dynamite, and leads him to the post outside the broken-down saloon. It’s called Jackrabbit Gin. Katsuki wonders sarcastically to himself if they’re famous for their whiskey or their impeccable decor.

 

He walks in, surprised to find that the bar is damn-near packed. There’s hardly a seat open, and Katsuki squeezes past several burly looking men to the barkeep. He’s a shorter man, with odd black markings on his eyes. There’s a red towel slung over his shoulder, and he eyes Katsuki warily.

 

“Getcha anything, boy?” He says, watching Katsuki’s hands. 

 

“I wanna talk to Rumi.”

 

The man gives Katsuki a once-over, and then nods toward the back door.

 

“She’s in there. Knock first. She can be a little jumpy.”

 

Katsuki is surprised to learn that Rumi is a woman - usually women stayed out of things like fighting and violence. He knows even before meeting her that he’s gonna like her.

 

He knocks, and then pushes the door open when he finds it’s not locked. Rumi is a tall woman, sitting with her back to the door, and she’s got stark white hair - Katsuki clears his throat, and when she turns around, she’s not the old woman he thought she’d be. She can’t be more than ten years older than him.

 

Katsuki opens his mouth to speak, but Rumi holds up her hand. He’s barely been in her presence for more than five seconds, but he decides not to push his luck.

 

“You wanna fight?” She asks after a moment.

 

Katsuki nods. “Yes ma’am.”

 

“You’ve got two hours to get your affairs in order. Find somebody to take care of your horse if you don’t make it back home.” She starts to turn around, before adding, “Go east out of here. Follow the road till you get to the pharmacy, and then turn left. You’ll know it when you see it.”

 

Katsuki grins, and she grins back. “Good luck, boy. I might put a little money on you myself.”

 

-x-

 

Rumi was right - Katsuki couldn’t have missed this place if he tried. 

 

First of all, it’s loud as hell. From a quarter-mile away, he can hear the crowd inside the barn having what sounds like an absolute hog-killin’ time. On top of that, there are about fifty horses tied to the posts along the fence.

 

Katsuki ties Dynamite up next to one of them and says, “Be nice. Make a friend or two, but don’t go runnin’ off.” Dynamite snorts at him in response.

 

Katsuki meanders up the hill and enters the barn. It smells like sweat, gin, and blood. The dirt on the barn floor is spattered with dark spots. There’s not a lot of blood, but there’s enough to get Katsuki’s adrenaline pumping.

 

He isn’t sure what to do - he’d only gotten directions and a time to arrive. And he’d gotten here a little early hoping to scope out his competition.

 

There are two men in the ring. One of them is older, incredibly short, but faster than anyone Katsuki’s ever seen. The other man is younger, but strong, and it’s a close match. The short man wins. There are several cheers and a few people booing. The younger man is carried out of the ring - he’s unconscious, but Katsuki watches for a moment and he’s blinking back to awareness within a few seconds. 

 

Rumi walks out onto the floor. She looks pristine. Her long blue dress, even dragging along the dirt floor, seems untouched by the grime. She’s got her hair tied back in a low bun, and she grins when she sees Katsuki.

 

“Next up, we’ve got a couple out-of-towners with a little too much mustard.” She grins, motioning to Katsuki to come forward. “This one just got here today, and pulled out his horns before he even found a place to stay. And over here,” she motions somewhere behind Katsuki for his opponent, “we’ve got a bangtail of a man a lot of y’all know as the Red Riot.”

 

Katsuki’s first impression of Red Riot comes from the glimpse he gets out of the corner of his eye before he’s being pushed by the shoulder to one end of the ring, and it’s more than enough. 

 

He’s big. Big and red. There’s no way his hair grows out of his head like that, and he’s at least four inches taller than Katsuki. 

 

When Katsuki gets to his side of the ring and turns to face him, he can tell that they’re about the same age - Red is grinning, and his teeth are sharp as knives. Katsuki wonders how they got that way. He doesn’t have much time to ponder that before Rumi signals the fight to begin. 

 

Katsuki doesn’t drop into a fighting stance. He grins at Red, and the other boy walks toward the center of the ring. Katsuki meets him in the middle. 

 

They don’t talk. They start a slow circle, sizing each other up, and it’s Red who swings first. 

 

Katsuki dodges. Red’s arm flies over his head and when Katsuki shifts up he slings a left hook under Red’s chin. His teeth clack audibly and when the boy’s eyes go wide, Katsuki sees it - 

 

This is about to be the most fun he’s had since he fled the barn with Dynamite to the sound of a shotgun firing in the distance. 

 

Red grins, redder than before with the blood smeared across his sharp teeth. Katsuki swings again, but Red catches his hand and twists it. He hears his wrist crack, but it doesn’t break. 

 

Katsuki’s turned now, with his back to Red, arm bent up between his own shoulder blades. Nobody told him any rules - nobody said anything about fighting clean or dirty, and Katsuki probably wouldn’t have cared anyway. 

 

As far as he’s aware, a win is a win, even if it takes crushing another man’s knee to get it. 

 

So he kicks a foot backwards, hits Red square in the kneecap with his heel. The boy doesn’t make a sound, but his grip loosens on Katsuki’s wrist enough that he slips out of his hold, and when he turns around, he slams the knuckles on his right hand into Red’s face. 

 

Nobody told him he couldn’t wear jewelry, and Katsuki wears just one ring - a gift from his grandfather years ago. It’s not worth anything, or he’d have sold it months ago, but it’s also not very well made, and the edges of the Bakugou insignia are sharp. 

 

He catches Red’s right eye as the boy bends from the force of the kick to his knee. Immediately, blood gushes from the wound left by the ring. Katsuki almost feels bad, but then Red laughs. 

 

He laughs like this is a game, like this is two boys roughhousing in a field after school. It makes Katsuki giddy. He barks out his own ugly laugh, and swings again. 

 

This time, instead of catching his fist, Red dodges, goes lower, and tackles Katsuki to the ground. They roll around in the dirt for a long while - a chorus of men yelling at them to get up and hit each other starts up. 

 

“We didn’t come here to watch basket makin’!”

 

“Get up, ya yella bellies!”

 

Katsuki manages to wriggle out from under the hulking mass of a boy, and they both move to stand. This time, they each drop down in a fighting pose. They’re both still grinning. 

 

Katsuki decides he likes Riot. 

 

But he doesn’t like him enough to lose. 

 

So when Red launches forward again, Katsuki sidesteps, slams an elbow into his back, and watches as the boy falls to the ground. 

 

Red rolls over, holding his stomach from laughing so hard, and Katsuki can’t help but laugh too. The crowd around them is so loud it’s nearly deafening, and out of the corner of his eye Katsuki can see more money being tossed around the room. 

 

A few more blows are exchanged, each of them causing the boys to laugh harder, get giddier, smile wider. 

 

Katsuki’s having so much fun he almost forgets this is a real fight with real money on the line - almost. 

 

Because right as he’s about to forget, Red snatches another punch out of the air. 

 

This time, when Katsuki hears a crack, he knows something broke. And he crumples, holding his left hand in his right. Immediately, Rumi walks into the ring. She holds up Red’s arm, having deemed him the winner, and Katsuki fumes. 

 

“I ain’t done yet,” he spits, blood flying from his mouth as he glares at her. 

 

“You will be if you keep going, and I want y’all to fight again. I ain’t never seen the crowd this wild over two shithead kids.” She motions behind him, and the barkeep from her saloon walks over and drags Katsuki to his feet by his armpits. 

 

Katsuki looks around. The people in the barn are hooting and hollering, and no matter how hard Katsuki strains to hear, there’s not a single person booing their fight. He glances at Red, who cocks an eyebrow and flashes a bloody grin. His eye’s swollen shut, but he looks ecstatic. 

 

Katsuki feels his own face split into a grin, and with his mangled left hand, he holds up a bent middle finger. It hurts like hell, but his grin stays put. 

 

-x-

 

Rumi sets Katsuki and Red up in two rooms in the town inn. She pays for their stay, says, “The idiot men in this town think some stupid metal is the only way to make a fortune, but I’ve found my own little gold rush right here.”

 

She has them fight once a week - people can’t throw money at her fast enough for a chance to watch “those two feral kids tear each other apart.” She pays them well. Katsuki buys a new saddle for Dynamite - Red spends his money on guns and ammunition. Katsuki buys one reliable six-shooter and enough bullets to get him out of any situation he might find himself in. 

 

The barkeep - Keigo - teaches him how to shoot. Red doesn’t seem to need lessons. 

 

Katsuki asks about it once, and Red says, “I traveled with a circus troupe as a sharpshooter up until a few months ago. They called me the sharpshooting devil.”

 

Katsuki learns that Red’s parents sold him to the circus when he was eight. He never minded - his parents hadn’t been around that much, and within the circus he found his own family. He learned early on that he had a knack for shooting, and with only a few weeks of practice, he never missed a shot.

 

When he was around twelve, he started dying his hair red and sticking it up, with two pieces in the front spiked to look like horns - it earned him his moniker, and eventually he’d gone to a back alley dentist to have his teeth sharpened into points to really sell the idea. 

 

He loved the attention it garnered him, and from what Katsuki can tell, he doesn’t regret destroying his teeth. 

 

“It makes it hard to eat some stuff, like leafy vegetables and the like, but I’m more of a meat guy anyway,” he’d laughed. 

 

He learns that Red’s real name was Eijirou, but he keeps calling him Red. The boy takes to calling Katsuki by the nickname “Kat,” and while it isn’t something Katsuki would have chosen for himself, he finds he doesn’t mind it so much when Red says it. 

 

Red tells him he’d left the circus on good terms. “We got to this town, and there was just something that made me want to stay.” Katsuki asks what it was, but Red just shrugs. 

 

There are nights, though, that Katsuki hears Red’s door open and close too softly for him to just be going out for fresh air. He leaves when the town gets quiet, and he returns just before the sun comes up. It happens a few times a week. 

 

Katsuki follows him one night, just to see which way he heads - the boy sneaks down the stairs, out the front door, and walks in the shadows of the street before turning down an alleyway.

 

Katsuki doesn’t follow him farther than that. He figures everybody’s got secrets, and sometimes it’s best to let them stay that way. 

 

He and Red become closer. Not much choice when you live next door to a boy you fight once a week. Especially when the kind of fight people pay to see involves a certain amount of showboating - it makes sense for them to get to know each other, learn new ways to kick their fights up a notch. They practice certain moves until they’re seamless, but never discuss them before fights so they look improvised. That’s what people want - a fun, no holds barred throw down. So that’s what Katsuki and Red give them. 

 

Katsuki’s hand never heals right - he’d fought Red again the week after it had been crushed, and because of that, he just kept splintering it over and over until there wasn’t any feeling in it at all. The fingers on his left hand are gnarled, scarred, and bent. He can make a fist okay, but his forefinger and pinky stick out at odd angles. 

 

People start calling him One Hand Kat, because Rumi hollered it out before their fifth fight on a whim, and it stuck.

 

One Hand Kat and Red Riot draw in big crowds and even bigger payouts. And they’re raking it in themselves. 

 

Everything is good - they’re gonna fight until they can't, and then, Rumi had said, she’ll give them a nice little nest egg and send them on their way. 

 

They fight each other once a week for six months. Broken ribs, chipped teeth, black eyes, scars they’ll have forever. They mark each other up every time they fight. 

 

Katsuki has a bite mark that scars over so bad he’ll die with it. And Red has the scar on his eyelid. 

 

And then, one day, Red’s secret nighttime outings fuck everything up.

 

-x-

 

Katsuki hears Red leave in the middle of the night again. He’s stopped thinking too much about it - at this point, he figures there’s a girl he’s meeting up with. Red sometimes comes back in the early hours of the morning with marks on his neck that Katsuki definitely didn’t leave there, and once, Katsuki saw twin sets of scratches down Red’s back when he’d been changing shirts with his door open. 

 

This time, though, Katsuki isn’t woken up by Red sneaking back in, and Katsuki’s a light sleeper. He’d learned to sleep light after waking up to an old man sliding his hand up his leg when he was hitching a year ago. 

 

He goes to Red’s door when he wakes up in the morning just to check. His door’s unlocked, and Katsuki swings it open to an empty room. 

 

He doesn’t have anything to do today, since it’s not one of their fight days, so he figures he’ll waste it wandering around until he finds Red. 

 

He takes the path he saw Red take the night he followed him - down the street, down that alleyway. It opens up to the street over, and Katsuki takes a second to look around. He picks a direction and wanders down the road, passing churchgoers and shoppers. 

 

Then he hears it - a man, yelling at the top of his lungs. 

 

Something in Katsuki’s gut tells him it’s Red, or something to do with Red, and Katsuki’s gut is rarely wrong. 

 

He walks a little faster toward the noise, and then he catches a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye. 

 

But there’s a lot more red than normal - there’s the hair, unspiked and falling around his shoulders, but - 

 

He’s bleeding, too. And there’s a man chasing him. The man’s carrying a metal bar, screaming incoherently as he chases after Red. 

 

Katsuki doesn’t know why, but he takes off in a sprint toward the two. His legs move before he knows what he’s doing, but by the time he realizes he’s running, he’s already decided he isn’t going to stop. 

 

He whistles, as loud as he can, and being only one street away, Dynamite hears him calling her. She trots up next to him, and he jumps onto her back as quick as he can. She doesn’t have her saddle on, but he’s ridden her bareback before. 

 

He kicks her into high gear, leading her straight to Red. He sees Katsuki coming, sees Katsuki’s arm outstretched, and he pivots, turns so he can latch onto Katsuki’s forearm, and Katsuki slings him onto the back of the horse. 

 

The man slows to a stop, still screaming. Red says, “Thank you,” and nothing else. 

 

They keep riding until they get to the train tracks, and then Katsuki slows them to a stop. 

 

There’s a train coming - Katsuki can hear it - and for some reason he knows he’s getting on that train. 

 

He leans down, presses a kiss to Dynamite’s head, right behind her ear. “Good girl, Dynamite. You’ve been a good girl.”

 

He and Red dismount, and in the brief moment before the train comes barreling past, Red opens his mouth and shuts it.

 

“You gettin’ on that train?” Katsuki yells over the sound of the train horn to his only friend. 

 

Red nods, looking sadder than Katsuki could ever fathom. 

 

“Then I’m goin’, too!” He hollers, and Red looks like he’s gonna try to tell him no, but Katsuki slaps Dynamite on her hind end, and she looks at him for a moment, and if Katsuki didn’t know any better, he’d say she was telling him goodbye. 

 

Dynamite takes off, and any objection on Red’s face disappears. He sets his mouth in a thin line and nods at the train cars speeding past. Katsuki nods back, and they both take off toward the freight. 

 

Red grabs hold of a door handle, swings onto the side of the car and unlatches it. Katsuki runs alongside the train faster than he’s ever run in his life.

 

Red slings his body inside, and reaches out a hand. 

 

Katsuki pivots. He turns, so he can throw his right arm up to Red - and the boy yanks him inside. 

 

They leave the door open as they catch their breath, and Katsuki wonders what the hell he’s just done. 

 

They spend a good hour in complete silence. Neither of them know where this train is headed. They don’t have any of their things, they don’t have any of their money. 

 

And Katsuki had to leave his horse behind. He already misses her. He hopes Rumi takes care of her - she loves Dynamite almost as much as Katsuki does.

 

Red breaks the silence first. “Why’d you come with me?”

 

Katsuki turns to look at him for the first time since they got on the train. His right eye is swollen shut, there’s dry blood caked on the side of his face, in his hair, and his shirt is stained a dark red. His knees are all scraped up, and Katsuki notices for the first time that he’s not wearing shoes. He looks like he’s been crying, and maybe he has - the train is loud enough that Katsuki wouldn’t have heard it.

 

“Ain’t no point in staying if you’re gone,” Katsuki says. “You’re how I made my money anyhow. I ain’t got nobody in that town but Rumi and you, and Rumi ain’t gonna keep me around if I ain’t makin’ her any money.”

 

They both know that’s not true, but Red doesn’t argue. He doesn’t seem to have the strength.

 

“Ain’t no life for me there without you,” Katsuki says, and it occurs to him, not for the first time, how important Red is to him. He looks at him, beat all to hell, and there’s a pain in his chest that didn’t come from running, or jumping, or having his arm damn near yanked out of its socket. It’s a deeper ache, one that can only come from seeing someone you care about get hurt.

 

And he does care about Red - they’re friends. Friends, he tells himself. Best friends, maybe, if that kind of title matters.

 

He thinks about the ache in his chest. He thinks about how it’s not unfamiliar - he feels it now like he felt it the first night Red snuck out of his room and didn’t tell Katsuki where he’d been. He feels it now like he felt it when Red spoke wistfully about the “thing” that made him stay in that little town. Like he felt it when he saw the first hickey, when he saw the scratches, when he realized Red had a secret that was alive, that he had a person hidden from the rest of the world - and he thinks maybe he and Red aren’t best friends, after all.

 

But he pushes down the ache, like he’s done a thousand times. He quiets the voice in his mind that whispers a four letter word you’re allowed to say in church. He blinks and he clears his throat. 

 

“Why’d that man do that to you?”

 

Red stiffens, eyes darting between Katsuki’s face and the floor of the traincar. He closes his eyes. Katsuki pushes.

 

“You can tell me, Red. I ain’t gonna sit here and judge you. I’ve done a lot of shit in my life I ain’t proud of.”

 

“He was...just an angry father, Kat. Mad as hell and wantin’ me dead for something I did.”

 

“Musta done something pretty damn bad for him to be chasin’ you through the streets tryin’ to kill you, Red.”

 

“Yeah. I did.”

 

Katsuki sighs. “You gonna tell me what it was or are we gonna pretend you stayed in your room every night?” Red’s eyes flick to his own. “Yeah, you ain’t quiet. You snuck out all the time. Or,” Katsuki dares, “are you wantin’ me to pretend I never saw the hickies? That I didn’t notice them scratches all over your back?”

 

Red hangs his head. “It ain’t...it ain’t what you’re thinkin’ it was, Kat.”

 

“I ain’t a moron, Eijirou.” Red’s head snaps back up at the sound of his own name - Katsuki’s never used it before. “Either you tell me, or I come to my own conclusions.”

 

“Probably better that way,” Red mumbles, and Katsuki almost misses it. Red toys with the hem of his shirt, shifts a little, throws his head back against the wall of the traincar.

 

Anybody else would miss it - the shame that flashes across Red’s face. But Katsuki recognizes that shame. He recognizes the weight of it as it presses down on Red’s shoulders, the way it crushes him from the inside out. He sees the sadness inside Red’s eyes as they drift back to his own.

 

“It wasn’t a girl,” Katsuki breathes. And it’s a wonder he’s breathing at all.

 

Red squeezes his eyes shut. And he starts to cry.

 

Katsuki lets him cry - he lets him get it out. He’s never been much of a crier himself, but he knows it’s hard to talk when you’re crying, so he lets Red take his time. He’s not going to say anything else unless Red gives him the go-ahead to talk, but he shifts closer to Red, lets their shoulders touch, just barely.

 

He wants Red to know that he’s not like that boy’s father. He’s not mad at him. He doesn’t want him dead. 

 

Katsuki has never been a big believer in fate, or destiny, or any of that other shit people talk about. He’s never thought life was a series of predetermined events. 

 

But as he sits and listens to Red’s soft sobs, as he lets his only friend rest his head on his shoulder and lets his tears soak through his shirt - he thinks about it.

 

If he hadn’t heard those two drunks talking, he’d never have known about the fight. If he hadn’t stolen Dynamite from the barn that night, he’d never have made it to that town. If he hadn’t hustled those old cowboys out of most of their money, he’d never have found Dynamite. If he hadn’t run away from home, he’d never have needed to play poker.

 

Hell, if his parents had let him choose his own spouse, he’d never have left home at all.

 

And for just a second, a fraction of a fraction of a second - he allows himself the luxury of believing in fate. He allows himself the comfort of believing that whatever happens is what was always going to happen - that no decision he ever made could have changed the fact that one day he’d be here, on this train, with this boy.

 

He turns his head just enough to press his cheek into soft red hair. It’s softer than he expected - he’s grabbed it before, but it’s always been done up in those spikes, and whatever Red puts on it to keep it upright makes it rough and crusty. This is the first time he’s ever touched it when it’s been left down.

 

It’s longer than he expected, too. A little above his shoulders. Katsuki would almost call it pretty.

 

A while later, when Red’s tears start to subside, he sits up and wipes his face, wincing when he rubs a little too hard across his swollen eye.

 

“How’d you know?” Red finally asks. He looks like he’s afraid of the answer - like Katsuki will say he’s obvious, that he might as well put on a dress and call himself a lady. Katsuki doesn’t give him enough time to live in that fear.

 

“Me, too.”

 

Red doesn’t look at him, but Katsuki watches his shoulders relax. Watches him take the first deep breath he’s taken since they got on the train.

 

He watches the shame fade - and feels his own fade a little as well.

 

They can be who they are in this train car - there’s no one else around. No man with a metal bar. No kids with armfuls of rocks. No parents who ignore and deny and sell you off to the richest family who’ll take you.

 

“I had another friend, besides you,” Katsuki says, and Red laughs for the first time. 

 

“Did you have to beat him up, too?”

 

“Kind of, but it was a little different. Shitty little odd stick,” Katsuki hums. 

 

“Doesn’t sound like you liked him very much,” Red says, and nudges Katsuki on the arm.

 

“Liked him too much when we were a little younger, Red.” He glances at the other boy, and realization comes across his face.

 

“Oh. Were you - was he - uh, were you together?”

 

“Nope,” Katsuki sighs. “I was a bit of a blowhard back then, and I took it out on Deku. Figured if I pretended it was his fault, I’d feel better about myself.”

 

Red doesn’t say anything.

 

“I got smart to it pretty soon, though - that it wasn’t just Deku, he was just the first. I always looked at boys the way all my other friends looked at girls. The other kids found out - and they didn’t take kindly to it. You know kids.” Katsuki closes his eyes and swallows down the memory of the stones. “Anyway, me and Deku got into it one day, and he followed me home. I turned around and just started hitting him, and he started hitting back, and we both just kind of lambasted each other until we were too tired and hurt to move. And I told him why I was so shitty. And he forgave me. And that was that. He probably still tells people we’re best friends.”

 

“Are you not, anymore?”

 

“I ain’t seen him in almost two years, Red.”

 

“Time don’t mean nothing, Kat,” Red shoots back, and Katsuki considers how long they’ve known each other - barely more than half a year, he realizes.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess you’re right.”

 

They’re quiet for a little while longer. Every now and then, as the train barrels forward, headed to God-knows-where, Katsuki looks over at Red to find him already looking back.

 

After a while, they fall asleep.

 

-x-

 

Katsuki and Red stay on the train until they can’t ignore the rumbling sounds coming from their stomachs, and they sit at the open door of the car until they see a town coming up.

 

They jump off before anyone could notice they’d been trainhopping - a lot of places around would let you off with a warning if you were caught doing it, but there was no way to know which towns took it seriously enough to arrest you. So they jumped early and hoofed it the rest of the way.

 

It takes about three days for them to find work - it’s menial shit, lugging crates of liquor into the back room of a saloon. It’s owned by a man with tired eyes and a lanky body. He isn’t too much older than Katsuki and Red - and they find out, through overheard conversations and what they hear directly from the owner - he inherited the bar when his father died. 

 

His name is Hitoshi, and he pays the boys well enough that they rent a room at an inn down the street. It’s got two small beds in it, and it ain’t too bad if you can ignore the fact that the walls are made of rolling paper.

 

Katsuki and Red are kept up late at night by the other patrons of the inn - it’s a cheap inn, which means a lot of people rent rooms they don’t intend to do much sleeping in.

 

The pillows work well enough most nights, wrapped around their heads as they steal glances at each other and try to make the other one laugh. It’s almost comical, most nights.

 

Some nights, it’s too much. One night, a man and a woman share the room right next to theirs, and even in Katsuki’s limited experience, he can tell that the sounds are not sounds of pleasure.

 

They don’t want to draw too much attention to themselves in this town, because they don’t intend to stay - so they don’t intervene. They go outside, lean against the empty crates in the alley, and they take turns sipping from a bottle of gin Katsuki swiped from the saloon.

 

“You ever been with anybody?” Red asks. 

 

“Not - not really,” Katsuki says, after a moment.

 

“What does ‘not really’ mean?”

 

“Well, I - I tried, once. With a girl back home, right before I left. It didn’t, uh - it didn’t really work.” Katsuki shrugs, glad the reddening of his face is hidden in the dark. “I know you been with somebody, but was he the only one?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You wanna tell me about him?” Katsuki knows he does, and the only reason he hasn’t is because Katsuki hasn’t asked. And Katsuki hasn’t asked because - well, he doesn’t really want to know. He knows it might help for Red to talk about his ex-lover, but anytime he considers bringing up the conversation, that ache comes back.

 

Right now, though, he’ll take the ache over the embarrassment of reliving his failed attempt at bedding a girl.

 

“There ain’t much to tell, really. I met him, and we spent a good three days talking, and then he kissed me, and we didn’t do a whole lot of talking after that.” Red rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, I don’t think it was love or nothing, but it had to be something, right? You don’t just risk everything for something like that if it don’t mean nothing.”

 

“I don’t know. People risk everything for a whole lot less.” Katsuki feels some of the ache ease at the knowledge that Red didn’t love that boy, but he refuses to linger on that thought. “What did he look like?”

 

“He, uh - he was blonde, but not like you. His hair was more yellow, and he was short. Wiry, kind of? Like he did some manual labor on the weekends but didn’t eat good enough to pack on any muscle.” Red laughs. “Had a hell of a mouth, though.”

 

“Don’t need to know all that, Red.”

 

“Not like that,” Red quickly says. “I mean, to look at him you wouldn’t think he’d be too good at anything - runt of the litter kind of boy.” He smiles fondly, and Katsuki looks away. “But he was smart, and quick, and he’d tear the pride right out of you with just a few sentences.”

 

“But you didn’t love him?” Katsuki doesn’t know why he needs confirmation.

 

“Naw.”

 

“How’d you know?” Katsuki wishes he could sew his mouth shut. He grabs the gin from Red’s hand and takes a big swig.

 

“That I didn’t love him?” Katsuki hums and takes another swig. “I mean, I think maybe I thought that’s what it was back then - while we were sneaking around and all that. But I think love’s gotta be different than that.”

 

“Different than what?”

 

“Than sneaking around. Love’s gotta be - I don’t know - prouder than that? And not the negative kind of pride. The kind that says ‘this is who I am and who I love.’ When you love somebody, you don’t sneak them in through your window, I don’t think. You’d bring them in the front door.” Red takes the bottle back and downs a fifth of it in one go. “When - when your father comes in to find you sleeping in bed with a boy you say you love, you don’t - “ he clears his throat, “you don’t pretend he’s some kind of - some kind of mudsill. You don’t yell that you’ve never met him before.”

 

Katsuki doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Red sighs and takes another swig.

 

“I think,” Red starts, “I think if it was love, real love, he’d be here with me right now, and not you.”

 

And Katsuki - he’s drunk. He’s never had this much to drink before, and on top of that, they skipped dinner because they’re saving up to move on to the next town, and he’s also tired, and there’s really a whole lot he could place the blame on for what he says next, but at the end of it, he can really only blame his too-big, beating heart.

 

“Guess that means this is love, then,” he whispers. He doesn’t look at Red. He holds his hand out, and the boy places the bottle into it gently.

 

“Guess so,” Red says, and his fingers brush against Katsuki’s when he lets go of the bottle, and they stay there for a little longer than is absolutely necessary.

 

They don’t say anything after that. They finish the bottle, and when they go back to their room, the sounds from next door have stopped.

 

So they go to sleep.

 

-x-

 

Seven months pass. They never talk about that night in the alley. 

 

They save up every penny they’re given, from odd jobs and panhandling, and they just keep moving. They never stay in one town for too long.

 

They’re closer than they’ve ever been - in several towns, the inn only had a room with one bed, and they’ve probably shared a bed more times than not. They learn each other’s morning routines - Katsuki scrounges up some breakfast while Red sticks his hair up. He says it makes him look tough. 

 

Katsuki thinks he looks tough already, but he knows why Red puts in the extra effort. He knows Red ain’t trying to prove anything to anybody but himself. Katsuki knows what that’s like - and he knows what can happen when it doesn’t work.

 

So he lets Red have his stupid hairdo, and he doesn’t say a word about it.

 

Red knows that at night Katsuki needs a light to be able to get to sleep - so he leaves the lantern on. Once Katsuki is asleep, he turns it out. Sometimes it takes a long time. Red never complains.

 

It happens one Sunday morning, just before the churches let out. Red’s putting that shit in his hair, and Katsuki heads to the general store to buy a little something for breakfast with the little money they have.

 

On the way, he bumps into a man who fumbles more than necessary in the aftermath. Katsuki feels his hands in places on his body that don’t make sense for a simple run-in. The man runs away after that - and Katsuki is left standing on the side of the road, more confused than anything. He continues on his way, and doesn’t think much else about it.

 

Until he’s at the counter at the general store. And he reaches in his pocket to pull out his money, and it’s not there.

 

He realizes then what happened with the man outside. He tells the store clerk to hang on, just a second, he’s got it somewhere. And he searches in every pocket on his person - he checks inside his hat, even. Inside his socks. 

 

Nothing.

 

The clerk rolls his eyes and turns his back, and Katsuki makes a split second decision. 

 

He grabs the small loaf of bread and jar of jam, and he runs. He sees Red come out of the inn, and watches his eyes go wide when he sees Katsuki running with the food and the clerk hot on his trail.

 

Red takes off after them, yells at the clerk that “he’ll get the thief,” and the clerk yells his thanks and tells him he’ll get the law ready. Red pretends to chase Katsuki until they’re out of sight of anyone who’d seen what happened. Katsuki leans against the alley wall.

 

“Hey, what the hell was that?” Red pants, bent over with his hands on his knees.

 

“Money got stolen. Some asshole pickpocketed me and took everything I had.” Katsuki scoffs.

 

“So you just stole the stuff?”

 

“You ain’t ever stole nothin’?”

 

Red starts to say he hasn’t, but then he remembers that time a couple months ago when he stole a pocketwatch off that pastor and hocked it for cash. “Fair.”

 

“We can’t stay here any longer. He’s gonna keep looking for me.”

 

“Over bread and jam? He’ll let it go, Kat. He’s probably already forgotten.” Red waves his hand.

 

“This ain’t where I wanna be, Red. I wanna move on already - we’ve been here a day and a half and I already got shit stole right out of my pockets.”

 

“Ain’t like we got much else to steal, and we can’t exactly get anywhere with no money.”

 

Katsuki curses under his breath. “There’s tracks not far from here. We’ll hop another train.”

 

Red looks exasperated. “If we get caught hoppin’ a train, we’ll get a hell of a lot worse than if we just go back and apologize to that clerk.”

 

Katsuki feels himself getting angrier with every protest that spills out of Red’s mouth.

 

He thinks about jumping on that train with Red after he got his ass kicked and how he didn’t ask a single goddamn question. He thinks about how he left everything he owned in a town he probably won’t ever go back to. He thinks about how he left his fucking horse.

 

“You got ‘something’ here, too? That why you wanna stay so bad?” Katsuki spits. “If that’s the case, guess it’ll only be a matter of time before we ain’t got a choice but to leave.”

 

“That ain’t fuckin’ fair, Katsuki, and you know it.”

 

“Then what is it? Huh? You wanna live in this shithole place with people who rob teenagers and leave them to starve?” Katsuki can feel his face flaming. His hands are clenched into fists, and his fucked up hand creaks and aches. He remembers agreeing to another fight with Red knowing that it would destroy any chance he had at having a hand that worked. He remembers how happy Red was when Rumi sat them down and offered them the weekly spot in the ring and Katsuki had agreed.

 

He thinks of every time he’s given something up for this boy, and he thinks of how he’s barely known him for a year.

 

“You know how much I gave up for you? I left my fuckin’ horse, Eijirou! That horse could’ve gotten us anywhere we wanted to go, and I left her to jump on a train with you, and I didn’t ask for shit. I didn’t ask for an explanation. I didn’t need one. I don’t need one now.” Katsuki shoves the bread and jam into Red’s arms. “I stayed right next to you the whole time, and never once, Eijirou - never once have I asked for anything from you.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to stay, Katsuki!” Red’s face matches his hair and his name. He clenches his jaw and tosses the food to the ground.

 

“Would you have stopped me if I tried to leave?” Red doesn’t say anything, just heaves ragged breaths through his nose. “Tell me, Red. You didn’t ask me to stay, but if I’d tried to leave, what would you have done?”

 

“I’d have stopped you, Katsuki. Or - I’d have tried to.”

 

“Why?” Katsuki pushes. “Tell me why. I bet I know the fuckin’ answer, and you’re too much of a yellow-belly to say it. Ain’t ya?”

 

“I ain’t.” Red grinds his teeth together.

 

“Still ain’t said it though, have you?” Katsuki snarls. He shoves at Red’s shoulders, knocking him back a few steps.

 

“Ain’t heard it from you, neither,” Red spits back. “You’re the one always saying shit about how you can’t stand cowards, how you’d rather die than be a goddamn coward. But you won’t say it, neither.” Red shoves Katsuki, hard, and his back hits the wall. Red’s looming over him, crowding him, and his gaze flicks down to Katsuki’s mouth before snapping back up to his eyes.

 

“Do it,” Katsuki challenges. “Fuckin’ kiss me.”

 

And he does.

 

Red surges forward and Katsuki meets him - their mouths crash together with a force that says they’re both still angry. Katsuki nips at Red’s bottom lip, and when Red mirrors the action, they both taste blood. Katsuki groans into the kiss, all the pent-up longing and wishing and hoping finally finding somewhere to go. Red wraps an arm around Katsuki’s middle, pulls him off the wall and into his broad chest, and then he’s licking into Katsuki’s mouth like he’s mapping out every tooth and ridge. 

 

Katsuki does the same and he tastes fresh copper when Red’s teeth catch on his tongue, and he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s kissing this boy - a boy he’d do anything for. A boy he’d follow to the ends of the earth.

 

There’s no one in this alley but them - no one around to steal any of this moment. No screaming man with a weapon - no kids hurling stones.

 

They’re the boys from the train car, from the alley with the gin - they don’t have to be anything else right now. 

 

They just kiss, and kiss, and kiss, until Red’s hand winds into Katsuki’s hair and tugs his head backwards on a gasp, and he’s mouthing down the side of his neck, scraping those dangerous teeth along his skin - something aches inside Katsuki, something deeper, lower, and he grabs the front of Red’s shirt to try and drag him closer. 

 

Red licks a hot, wet stripe from his collarbone to his jaw, and he whispers, “You can’t leave me here, Kat - you gotta stay,” breath ghosting past his ear, and then -

 

Katsuki remembers where they are. He remembers there’s a shopkeep sending the law after him for fifteen cents worth of stale bread and a half-gone jar of jam. He remembers suddenly that he has to leave. 

 

“Eijirou, please - come with me, come with me - we can be together if you just - you gotta come with me,” he whimpers into Red’s neck, shoving his body closer.

 

There’s the sound of thundering horse hooves and the call of what can only be the town sheriff - and Red suddenly gets it. 

 

“Go, go to the tracks. I’m gonna get as much of our stuff as I can carry and I’ll meet you there as fast as I can.”

 

So Katsuki runs. As he rounds the corner, he hears Red pretending to pant and tell the police that he lost the thief, and he smiles.

 

When he makes it to the tracks, he sits under the shade of a weeping willow. It provides enough cover that anyone looking that way won’t notice him there, and he waits.

 

He doesn’t have to wait long.

 

It can’t have been more than half an hour and Katsuki sees him. He’s got a small bag with him, and he’s got the food he dumped on the ground.

 

“Shopkeep said I could keep it for my trouble,” he grins, and Katsuki rolls his eyes.

 

“Wanted to lynch me for it and he gives it to you, and you didn’t even do nothin’.” He can’t hide his own smile. 

 

“Train’ll be here soon - I asked what the schedule was and they said it usually runs at about half past noon. We can take a nap if you wanna,” Red says as he plops down beside Katsuki.

 

“Yeah. Can’t get good sleep on a train.”

 

They lean against each other with their backs against the tree, and they try to nap - they really do. But their mouths keep finding one another, they keep kissing, and kissing, and kissing - until the day finally catches up, and they doze off under the willow tree.

 

They wake to the sound of the train horn - it’s speeding by, and they’ve only got a few more cars until it’s gone.

 

Katsuki nudges Red awake, picks up the bag and slings it over his shoulder. He finally rouses the redhead, and then they’re off, wiping sleep out of their eyes as they run. Katsuki latches on first, pulls himself up and uses the weight of his body to shove open the door. 

 

He turns, holding onto the door with his right hand.

 

He reaches out with his left hand, as far as he can - Red lunges - and misses. 

 

Katsuki leans out farther, stretching his hand as much as the crumbled bones inside it will allow.

 

Red manages to grab hold of Katsuki’s fingers, but their hands are too sweaty, Katsuki’s grip too weak, and he can’t hold on.

 

When he lunges again, and misses again, they both know.

 

“You better find me, Eijirou Kirishima!” Katsuki yells, tears already blurring his line of sight. 

 

Red slows a little and starts to fall behind. Katsuki blinks away the tears, tries to clear his vision.

 

He wants to commit Red’s face to memory. Needs to remember the way his eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, the way his face never stops looking kind no matter how many of those sharp teeth are showing - he needs to remember the scar above his eyelid. Needs to remember the bump in his nose from the time Katsuki broke it, the strength of his body, the sharp angle of his jaw.

 

Red will find him again, he knows it - but he doesn’t know how long he’ll be waiting. So he’s gotta memorize everything he can.

 

Red slows to a jog, falls farther behind. But he sucks in a deep breath, cups his hands around his mouth, and screams, “I love you, Katsuki Bakugou!”

 

And in a few short minutes, all Katsuki has is the memory.

 

It’s all he has for a long time.

 

-x-

 

After a few years, Katsuki finds himself in a big ranch town, occupied by some of the richest ranchers in the country. 

 

He’s twenty three, and he’s tired of moving around.

 

So he stops here, because it’s as good a place as any when all you plan to do is wait.

 

He thinks about Red every now and again - he couldn’t forget him if he wanted to, because the scar on his bicep from Red biting the shit out of him in a fight ain’t ever gonna heal up.

 

He’s sitting in a saloon, because if nothing else stays constant in his life, he knows gin will always taste like shit. So he orders a glass of gin. And he sits.

 

He knows he’s waiting, but sometimes he feels like he’s waiting for more than one thing, and this is one of those times. His gut says something’s about to change. And Katsuki’s gut is rarely wrong.

 

So when an older man, probably in his early fifties with stupid blonde hair and arms the size of Katsuki’s head sits on the barstool next to him, he doesn’t flinch.

 

He waits.

 

“You’re new,” the man says, and if he hadn’t turned toward Katsuki before saying it, Katsuki could be convinced he was talking to someone across town. His voice boomed loud in the quiet bar, but no one turned to look.

 

“Got in early this morning,” he says in response. He tips his glass toward the man in a belated greeting.

 

“Guess that means you’re lookin’ for work.” It’s not a question. It’s an offer, though it isn’t worded like one.

 

“I am.” He’s not. Not really, not right now - but his mouth formed the words before he could stop them.

 

“You can start tomorrow. Go on past the field of cherry blossoms and you’ll run across a yellow fence gate on your left. Go through it, and about a mile up the road is where you’ll work. I can provide lodging and pay, and you get Sundays off. I got two rules,” he says, downing his drink in a single gulp and setting the glass down gently on the bar. “You treat the rest of my help with respect, and you don’t hurt anybody that don’t hurt you.”

 

The man stands and beams at him, a smile vaguely reminiscent of the one that’s haunted him for years - it’s a smile that holds a lot of weight. A smile that says no matter what happens to me, no matter what you take - you can’t have this. You can’t stop me from smiling.

 

Katsuki averts his eyes.

 

“The name is Toshinori Yagi,” he booms, and sticks out a comically large hand. Katsuki takes it in his own, pleased to find his own hands aren’t child-sized in comparison.

 

“Katsuki Bakugou,” he says. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Yagi.” He has no idea why he’s being so cordial. He’s spent the last few years in and out of jail on petty theft charges and no one who’s met him in that time would ever say he was polite.

 

But Katsuki’s never been one to back down from a challenge, and giving the mean-looking stranger in town a job and directions to your home seems like a pretty obvious challenge.

 

“Call me Toshinori, Katsuki. Get to the ranch at sunrise. Don’t be late.”

 

-x-

 

Katsuki is not late. Not the first day, the second day, or any day for the next two years.

 

He shows up on time, without fail, just before sunrise.

 

The work isn’t easy, but the pay is good. After two years, Toshinori made him a top hand, which netted him forty dollars a month. All his meals were provided for him. A woman came around on Sundays to pick up the washing, and she returned it before night fell that evening. 

 

Katsuki was doing well for himself. He stayed on the straight and narrow. He followed the rules - he didn’t disrespect the other help, and he didn’t hurt anyone who didn’t ask for it.

 

He’d fought a man in a bar two weeks after he was hired, but the man had thrown the first punch. Toshinori got the story from the lawmen, and he bailed Katsuki out without complaint. He said, “Son, the rule is you don’t start fights. But the unspoken part of that rule is that you always finish ‘em, and you didn’t do a damn thing I wouldn’t have done myself.”

 

Toshinori caught him in the woods late one night with a man from town - they’d snuck off for some privacy after meeting in the saloon, and when Katsuki apologized the next day for his disrespect, he’d said, “You weren’t on my property. That man ain’t my help. Even if he was, he didn’t sound very disrespected.” And he’d laughed, and Katsuki knew he’d found his family on this ranch.

 

None of the other help gives a shit what he does in his free time. They don’t care what kind of person he prefers in his bed - Toshinori seemed to have a knack for picking out the misfits and bringing them home.

 

One night, after a long day on the ranch, he finds himself at the edge of one of the pastures with the seamstress. She’s been here a lot longer than Katsuki. Her name is Momo. They’re passing a bottle of whiskey between them, and she’s telling him who she is.

 

“I’ve been all around the country, Katsuki,” she says, “ain’t nobody out there like Toshinori. Not a soul.”

 

And Katsuki can think of at least one. But he doesn’t say that.

 

“I looked for a long time.” She closes her eyes and tilts her head toward the sky. “They say people like us are going to hell. That we’re abominations. But I’ll tell you something.” She levels her gaze at him. “Ain’t ever been a God I believe in that adds fine print to a declaration of love. Ain’t never met a man of the church or a woman standing next to him that’s ever experienced a single drop of the love I’ve found.”

 

Katsuki hums in agreement.

 

“They say it ain’t biblical to live like we live. It ain’t right.” She sighs. “But when I tell you that nothing in a church ever felt as much like a miracle as it did when I kissed the first girl I loved, I mean it. If I could write, I’d pen a novel about the way it felt to get here and let those chains go. The way Toshinori let me take the mask off and just - just be me.”

 

Momo flops onto her back in the grass and grins. “They wanna use words like reverent and sacred and they don’t know what they mean. Ain’t nothin’ divine in hiding. Ain’t nothin’ holy like being free.”

 

And Katsuki doesn’t know enough words to tell her how right she is. So he tells her he’s waiting on somebody. She says she is too.

 

And that’s enough.

 

Winter comes harsh that year, and more than half of Toshinori’s help leaves to head back to the towns they moved from. It happens every year - winter means less outdoor work. Less outdoor work means less help is needed. 

 

Katsuki has no home to return to, so he stays. Momo stays, too.

 

Toshinori falls ill soon after the first snowfall, and by the time the leaves grow back on the trees, he’s a shadow of the man he was. 

 

He shrinks to less than half his original size in what feels like the blink of an eye - he can’t keep his food down. His eyes sink into his head, and day by day, he looks less like a man and more like a corpse. 

 

Momo and Katsuki do what they can to care for him. The doctor comes - he gives the illness a name, but Katsuki doesn’t care for the name, he cares for the cure. And there is a possibility, the doctor says, but the cure is experimental - survival of the treatment isn’t guaranteed. 

 

Katsuki doesn’t think that matters - Toshinori has zero chance of survival without the cure. If that goes up to even a sliver of a chance with it, Katsuki will do whatever it takes. 

 

The doctor shakes his head sadly and quietly informs Katsuki that the cost of administering the medicine is very high - the cost skyrockets when you factor in the cost of paying for the doctors to come to the home. And with the condition of Toshinori, that’s nonnegotiable. 

 

Toshinori can’t travel. 

 

Katsuki goes to bed that night and makes a decision. He’s gone before the sun rises. He leaves a note for Momo - he tells her not to worry. He tells her that he’ll be home soon. He tells her everything will be okay.

 

-x-

 

Katsuki knows that the general store next to the church gets the most business in the town - he knows they have the most expensive products, that all the wealthy ladies go there for their creams and their hair ornaments.

 

He waits until church starts. When there’s no one in the store.

He wraps a hand around his pistol and holds it in his coat. He’s robbed stores before, but never with a gun. He doesn’t want to kill anyone.

 

He will if he has to. He’d trade any life for Toshinori’s - at any cost.

 

He keeps his mangled hand in his coat pocket. If his plan works, he doesn’t want anyone knowing about his hand. It’s a dead giveaway - everybody in town calls him One Hand Kat now, after he got drunk one night and recounted his time as a boxer for Rumi.

 

When he enters, there’s a young boy behind the register. He can’t be more than fourteen. He greets Katsuki with a cheery ‘hello,’ and his eyes go wide when Katsuki leans against the counter and pulls out his gun.

 

“You’re gonna stay quiet for me, okay?” Katsuki says, calmly and softly. “I don’t wanna hurt you. I just need some money. My - my father is dying, and he needs a doctor, and we can’t afford the expense. I need you to open the safe, and I need you to give me every dollar in it. If you do that for me, I’ll take that money, use it to help - to help my father, and then I’ll turn myself in.”

 

The boy’s eyes frantically dart around the shop, but he eventually complies. He bends below the counter, grabs a key, and motions for Katsuki to follow him to the back room.

 

Katsuki trails behind him, and a chill runs up his spine.

 

He quietly removes the bullets from his gun. He drops them behind a bag of rice, and continues following the young boy.

 

He unlocks a door, and inside the room is a safe. The boy doesn’t take his eyes off Katsuki’s gun as he backs toward the safe.

 

“Please don’t shoot me, Mister. I - I’m gonna do what you’re askin’,” he whimpers. He turns and starts fiddling with the dial on the door of the heavy metal safe.

 

It’s the last thing Katsuki remembers before he wakes up in a jail cell.

 

Across the room, on the other cot, sits a man. He’s tall and lanky, with long black hair past his shoulders. He’s got an easygoing air about him, and he smiles as Katsuki groggily sits up.

 

“‘Bout time. I thought for sure you were gonna die.” The man says.

 

“What - what the hell happened?” Katsuki’s head is throbbing, and he feels a sticky patch of drying blood on the back of his scalp.

 

“Apparently you robbed a general store,” the man says, cocking an eyebrow. “But, silly boy, you didn’t load the gun. That means it ain’t armed robbery, and they couldn’t find any violent offenses on your record, so you’re gonna get a misdemeanor charge.”

 

Katsuki eyes the man warily. “And how do you know all this?”

 

The man jerks a thumb toward a woman sitting at a desk about twenty feet away. “Her beau came in to bring her lunch and he asked about the dead guy in the cot - “ he pointed at Katsuki, “ - and I guess there ain’t no laws about spreading rumors, so she laid it all out for him.” He shrugged.

 

“Okay, well - what are you in here for?”

 

The man chuckles. “Snagged a badge off a lawman when I thought he wasn’t lookin’. Told him I just wanted to see it up close, but he said it was assault. So here I am.”

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The man shifted to lie down on his cot, folding his hands behind his head. “First, I wanna know what kind of idiot robs a store and doesn’t load his gun.”

 

“Sounds to me like you already know the answer to that.”

 

“Fair point. Next question, then. What kind of man is so desperate for the pocket change of a general store that he promises a kid he’ll turn himself in once he spends the cash?”

 

Katsuki’s face flames. How embarrassing. But he shakes away the shame. There’s not any room left inside him for any of that.

 

“My - my father. He’s sick - dying. There’s a chance he can be cured, but it ain’t cheap.”

 

“And you thought you’d get enough from one convenient store?”

 

“It seemed like the best option. Ain’t a whole lot of places in this town.”

 

“That’s your mistake, then.”

 

“What?”

 

“Assuming you gotta stay in town to get what you need.” The man gives him a scrutinizing once over and sits up, leaning on his knees and lowering his voice. “I know a place where you can walk away with seventy grand in cash.”

 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and I shit rainbows out of my ass.”

 

“Trains, Katsuki Bakugou. Trains.” The man smiles. “I got a friend you oughta get in contact with. I don’t know how much time you got, but if your old man can hold on for a little while longer, my friend can get you all the money you need.”

 

“You know my name,” he says, in lieu of responding to the last bit. “Tell me yours.”

 

“Hanta Sero, at your service.”

 

Katsuki knows that name. Knows that face, come to think of it, though he’s never seen them on the same poster.

 

“Sticky Fingers?” Katsuki gapes.

 

“Is that what they’re callin’ me?” He laughs. “Fitting, I suppose. They always give the underlings the worst names.”

 

Underlings? Sticky Fingers - Hanta, Katsuki amends - was part of a gang. They’d evaded lawmen for years, he’d seen all their pictures on the front page of the newspaper in town just a few days ago - 

 

“Queen’s Boys, they call us. Mina gets ‘The Bandit Queen,’ and we get called her ‘boys.’” Hanta scoffs, but there’s no heat behind it. He seems more amused than annoyed.

 

“I’ve heard of them.”

 

“ Us. You’ve heard of us. And of course you have, you silly, silly boy.” Hanta clicks his tongue. “We’re the baddest gang this side of the Mississippi. Anybody that ain’t heard of us is either dead or close enough to it their mind’s already gone.”

 

Katsuki winces when his brain unhelpfully wonders if Toshinori knows about the gang.

 

“Oh, shit - sorry. Sore subject. I’ve got these huge feet but I can still get ‘em in my mouth.” Hanta makes an apologetic gesture and leans in a little further.

 

“You wanna get the money for your dad, Mina will get you the money. You gotta prove you’re worth the weight you’ll be making her carry around, but I’ll put in a good word for you. ‘Tricked the lawmen into thinking he never loaded the gun and came back from the dead in a jail cell and barely even flinched.’” He grinned widely. “She’s just gonna love you. You come with a built in nickname anyhow - One Hand Kat.”

 

Katsuki furrows his brow. “Oh, that’s right, they knocked you out cold - when they brought you in, a man in the street hollered about how One Hand Kat nearly killed a kid for a couple hundred bucks.” He sucks in air through his teeth. “Better hope they don’t know where you live, buddy. From what I hear, ain’t nobody in town particularly fond of you right now.”

 

Katsuki groaned and held his head in his hands. There’s no way he could go back to Toshinori now - he might not know about the Queen’s Boys, but he’d certainly hear about Katsuki holding up the general store. He’d never let him come home. 

 

He’s gonna have to earn his place by getting Toshinori the cure.

 

He asks the woman at the desk for a piece of paper and a pencil, and she brings it over. He writes a note to Momo.

 

Momo,

 

I messed up. Gonna fix it. Keep him going. I will get him the medicine.

 

I am sorry. Forgive me.

 

Kat

 

-x-

 

It takes a few days, but soon there’s a man at the jail. He’s not bailing Katsuki out - he’s bribing the jailer to let him go.

 

Katsuki looks at Hanta, who shoots him a dazzling smile. “I told ya I’d put in a good word. When you get to her, though, do me a favor.” Hanta gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Tell her I love her, tell her I’ll see her soon, and tell her that if she fucks you I’ll burn down her house and sell her ass to the law for a nickel.”

 

He laughs, and Katsuki can’t help but laugh, too. “I’ll tell her the first two, but the third - it ain’t gonna be a problem.”

 

He says it without thinking, too used to the freedom of wearing his soul outside on the ranch - but Hanta doesn’t flinch.

 

“Good. Because it goes without saying, I’d sell you out, too.” He winks.

 

Then, with no fanfare, the jailer slides open the bars, and Katsuki walks out a free man. He’s immediately ushered into a horse-drawn carriage. The man who walked him out of jail - Sato, he’d grumbled - told him he’d see Mina soon.

 

He didn’t expect her to be in the carriage.

 

She’s smaller than he pictured - not at all the terrifying queen of bandits he’d been told to fear. Her hair sits in perfect curls about her head, a shade of red so light it looks pink. Her eyes are rimmed in black, and they make her already golden eyes appear more unearthly than they would otherwise. Her skin is tan, littered with freckles, and her face splits into a manic grin upon seeing Katsuki.

 

“One Hand Kat,” she croons, grabbing at his forearms to pull his hands toward her. She sees his hands, both of them, and frowns. “Shame. I hoped I’d get to see a nub,” she pouts. 

 

“I feel like if I had a nub, I’d be offended by that.” Katsuki murmurs.

 

“I feel like if you had a nub, your name would make more sense.” Mina counters, but her smile is back in full force. She drops her grip on his forearms as he settles more comfortably into the seat opposite her.

 

Her large, pink dress billows around her, enveloping Katsuki’s legs and he worries he’s getting it dirty, but they must make women’s clothes out of grime repellant shit these days, because she’s untouched by any filth. Her dress is immaculate, just like the rest of her.

 

Katsuki thinks of Hanta’s message, and he thinks that if he was a man who liked women, he’d definitely like Mina. She’s effortlessly beautiful, despite the obvious effort, and there’s something about the way she carries herself that’s unnerving. 

 

Katsuki can appreciate a woman who doesn’t let what’s between her legs decide what she’s allowed to do. It’s what he liked best about Rumi. He thinks Mina and Rumi would get on like a house on fire.

 

And they wouldn’t care at all about the people who got burned along the way - which is something Katsuki can’t help but admire.

 

“Hanta-baby tells me you’ve got a sick daddy,” she says, and Katsuki wishes he didn’t have to live in a world where he heard that sentence. 

 

“He’s not - he’s not my real father,” Katsuki admits, but Mina shakes her head.

 

“We find the families we deserve long after we’re given the families we don’t,” she drops the smile briefly. “Life is chaos - we have to make our own sense of it. Sometimes that can take a long time.” She sighs, smiling again, albeit a bit softer. “If he’s the person you’ve chosen as your father, he’s your father. Blood does not a family make, Kitty Kat. Not always.”

 

Katsuki knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Mina’s just made it onto his family tree. Where, he’s not exactly sure yet. But if future historians mention him, he hopes her name is said in the same breath.

 

He almost lets his mind wander far enough to consider the other names they’ll mention alongside his, but he shakes away the thought. 

 

“Tell me what you need, Kat. And I’ll find some way to get it for you.” She holds up a hand when Katsuki opens his mouth to answer. “It ain’t gonna be free. You gotta work for it - I ain’t a fairy godmother, no matter how much I look like one.” She giggles. “You prove to me you’re worth it - the time I spend on you - and I’ll give you what you want as thanks.”

 

Katsuki gets straight to the point. “I need money. A lot of it. I don’t know how much. My father is dying, but there might be a cure, and I need to get it for him.”

 

“ Might be a cure?” Mina tilts her head. “You’re willing to throw away any chance you’d have at a normal life for a maybe?”

 

Katsuki doesn’t need to think about it. He nods. “I never had a chance at a normal life anyway,” he says, and Mina raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “My chance at a normal life disappeared when I decided to fall in love with a man.”

 

Mina tilts her head back in recognition and nods slightly. “A lot of things in life are a result of choices we make, Kat. Where your heart takes you, though - that ain’t one of ‘em.”

 

She holds out her hand, and Katsuki takes it.

 

“If I’ve got any say in it, your daddy’s got a lotta long years ahead of him.”

 

She knocks on the door of the carriage, and they’re off.

 

-x-

 

It takes longer than any of them planned - every few months, he gets regular updates from Momo, sent through a telegram service. Toshinori is still alive. The illness hasn’t taken him yet, and he goes through periods where he starts getting better, and then he gets worse.

 

But he’s not dead. So Katsuki still has time.

 

During the first six months, Katsuki worked hard to prove himself worthy of the Queen’s Boys - Mina latched onto him early on, and he quickly became the go-to for planning robberies. He might have made rookie mistakes during his first attempt to get money for Toshinori, but he’s always been a quick learner. 

 

It didn’t take long before he started seeing his own face on posters next to images of The Bandit Queen and Sticky Fingers, and he became a quietly whispered household name - he evaded the law in large part due to the fact that his wanted poster showed him in a hat that he didn’t own anymore, and also the fact that he had two hands.

 

Mina may have been disappointed at first, but she quickly grew to appreciate the misnomer.

 

Katsuki was one of the few of her gang who could walk right into the banks they robbed before the robbery occurred without raising suspicion - everyone was looking for a man with one hand.

 

He’s sitting at a bar the first time he hears one of the rumors, and he has to use considerable effort to hold back his scoff of disbelief.

 

“They say he lost it during the first train robbery - that the lawmen cuffed him to a post while he rounded up the other Queen’s Boys.”

 

“Yeah, they didn’t leave anybody watching him, and while none of ‘em were looking, he chewed right through his own wrist.”

 

“The man sounds damn near feral.”

 

Katsuki wonders when they started, and how many people believed them. He’d heard lots of stories over the months he’d been with Mina.

 

Chewing off his own hand to escape arrest is the most popular, but there are other, less popular versions - one story says he tried to bed the Bandit Queen herself, and that Sticky Fingers cut his hand off as retribution. Another says he cut it off himself in a show of loyalty to the gang. There’s even one that says he lost it in a bet - that he’d run out of money and was so sure he’d win the game he bet his own hand.

 

He doesn’t mind the stories. He prefers people thinking he doesn’t have a hand. People think they recognize him from the poster, and they immediately look to his hands. He intentionally doesn’t wear gloves so people can tell they’re both real, and he’s learned how to hold his bad hand in a way that doesn’t look so mangled - Mina brought him an oil, said that if he worked it into his hand daily, the muscles could relax and maybe the hand would, too.

 

It works well enough, he supposes. People don’t spare him a second glance after checking the number of hands he has.

 

The turning point in his life happens on a Sunday. Lately, a lot of them do.

 

He’s at the bar. He’d think that was a part of the routine, all his major life events happening in bars, but the truth is, his major life events happen in bars because his life happens in bars. If he spent time anywhere else, there might be a change in the script.

 

But he doesn’t. So he’s sitting at a bar when he makes a turn in his chair and his whole life turns with him.

 

At a table in the corner, there’s a man. He’s holding a glass of brown liquor between his forefinger and his thumb, and he’s looking directly at Katsuki. His gaze doesn’t waver. He stares at him with all the intensity of a man trying to see right through him - and once Katsuki notices, he thinks, maybe the man does see right through him.

 

But it’s not the drink or the hand or the stare he notices first. It’s not the way everyone in the bar seems to be giving him as wide a berth as the crowd allows.

 

All that - it comes second to the most obvious thing about the man.

 

His bright red hair.

 

The second their eyes meet, Katsuki’s blood runs cold. His eyes flick down to the right side of his black coat - an eye. It’s not big, and from this distance the average person might not even recognize it, but Katsuki does immediately.

 

His eyes snap back up, and the man smiles.

 

If there was any doubt before, and there wasn’t, there certainly isn’t once his lips part and reveal two rows of razor sharp teeth.

 

It’s definitely Red.

 

And he’s a Pinkerton.

 

Katsuki leans against the bar and makes sure his face remains neutral. Red, to his credit, does the same. But he moves for the first time since Katsuki noticed him in the corner.

 

He reaches into the inside pocket of his coat, and pulls out a piece of paper. He looks at it for a moment, his eyes flicking up to look at Katsuki, and then back down to the paper, before he grins again and turns it around to show Katsuki what he’s holding.

 

It’s a wanted poster.

 

For One Hand Kat.

 

Katsuki calmly sets down his glass after downing the remaining liquor. He tosses a few bills on the bar and stands. He pulls on his coat and walks, as calmly as he can, out the front doors.

 

Before he passes through, he sees, out of the corner of his eye, that Red is already standing.

 

-x-

 

Katsuki isn’t afraid. If Red was going to do anything, he’d have done it already.

 

Pinkertons weren’t known for their subtlety, and Red was about as subtle as a hammer to the face. So he meandered down the street, looking in windows and taking his time strolling along the main roadway.

 

Red follows at a respectable distance. 

 

After about fifteen minutes of wandering around, he turns down a side road - he’s been in this town long enough to know that this road leads toward a large ranch that’s largely unused. The man who lives there vacations in another state when it gets cold. He isn’t home, and whatever help he’s got with him won’t be out this far in the pasture. He walks toward the pond on the property and sits down at the edge of the water.

 

It’s dark, and the water reflects the light of the half-moon. It casts the surrounding area in a cool blue glow.

 

Katsuki hears Red walk up next to him, and he doesn’t turn to look at him. Red sits.

 

It’s silent for a while. Both of them listening to the other breathe - they’re both calm. Katsuki wonders if Red has a plan.

 

Red speaks first.

 

“Katsuki Bakugou.”

 

The name sounds foreign on his tongue - it’s not at all the sweet sound it was the last time he heard it. It sounds rusty, like it cut Red’s tongue on the way out.

 

“Eijirou Kirishima.”

 

Katsuki isn’t sure what they’re doing. The last time they spoke, Katsuki asked Red to find him. And Red told Katsuki he loved him.

 

He wonders briefly if he still does - he wonders if he, himself, still loves Red.

 

When he finally turns to look at him, he knows.

 

The scar is still there, still just as obvious as it was the day he left. He’s gotten somehow even broader, bigger, and Katsuki’s hands, the good one and the broken one, yearn to reach out. He wants to touch him. He wants to confirm that Red’s really there.

 

There were a lot of nights that he’d wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming of his old friend. He’d cry himself back to sleep.

 

The first night he slept alone after he’d gotten separated from Red, he’d woken up in the middle of the night to find the light still on, the one Red would have turned off for him once his breathing evened out, and somehow, that light was the worst part of it all.

 

Katsuki learned how to fall asleep in the dark after that. 

 

Red - Eijirou - holds out his hand. He’s sitting on Katsuki’s left side, and Katsuki places his gnarled hand in his. 

 

“Looks better than it did last time I saw it,” he murmurs. Katsuki hums.

 

“Been working with the muscles. It’s relaxed some. Scars are still there, though.”

 

“All of them?” Eijirou asks, and Katsuki isn’t sure what he means.

 

He’s not sure what it means when he whispers back, “All of them.”

 

Eijirou’s hand wraps around Katsuki’s. He doesn’t squeeze, but Katsuki can tell he wants to.

 

Where have you been, he wants to ask. What was more important than finding me?

 

He doesn’t ask, though. He doesn’t want to know the answer. He tears his eyes away from where their hands are connected, and he gently pulls his own hand back to his lap. 

 

Eijirou sighs. Katsuki closes his eyes.

 

There’s so much he wants to say - so much he wants to hear.

 

“Kat, I - “ Eijirou starts, and he stops to clear his throat. “I looked for you for so long.”

 

Katsuki lets the silence hang heavy. Lets the silence say, then why couldn’t you find me?

 

“I got on the next train that came through that day - it was dark by the time another one came down those tracks. I don’t know where your train went, but I figured the next train would go there, too.” He takes a breath that sounds like it hurts. “There were so many towns on that railway, Kat. I didn’t know which one you got off at. I didn’t know if you’d gotten off at any of them. I picked one at random, and when I didn’t find you, I got on another train and did it again. I train hopped for two weeks.”

 

Katsuki sucks in a ragged breath and realizes he’s been holding it. His chest aches.

 

“I want you to know that I tried, Katsuki. I tried so hard.” He rubs both hands down his face. “I’ve been looking for you in every town I’ve been to for damn near nine years.”

 

“Well, you found me, Red.” Katsuki lays back on the grass, stretches his legs out in front of him. “I’m right here. And you’ve got a job, and I’ve got a job. One of us has to do our job. Who’s it gonna be?”

 

Eijirou lays back and rolls to his side. He reaches a hand out, runs the backs of his fingers along Katsuki’s jaw, and it feels like fire.

 

He’s sixteen again. He’s sixteen again and he’s lying in the grass in an empty field next to the boy he loves. The boy who loves him.

 

But when he turns to his side to face Eijirou, it’s not the same boy. And he’s not the boy he was, either. Life has aged them, hard choices made them rough around the edges.

 

He knows that boy is in there, somewhere - somewhere far beneath this sandpaper exterior that put on a black coat and started hunting human beings.

 

Hunting Katsuki.

 

And Katsuki feels very much hunted - feels very much like prey, sitting vulnerable in the hands of a man whose job is to deliver him to slaughter.

 

Katsuki doesn’t deserve to die - he’s never killed another human being. The worst thing he did was steal money from the federal government, and every day, it becomes clearer to him that his crimes are worse. Take all the lives you want, says the fine print. But don’t you dare take back what we’ve been taking from you.

 

Katsuki wants to kiss Eijirou again - just once more. He wants to pretend they made it onto that train together. He wants to pretend that this is their pond, their property. If he closes his eyes, if he can’t see that awful coat, if he squeezes his eyes shut tight, tight, tight - it almost works.

 

But pretending is hard when you’ve seen as much as they have. 

 

So they accept it. They lock eyes, and they make a choice. Tonight can be theirs, for them, and for each other. They can be together just this once, and then whatever happens after is for the people they are after.

 

Katsuki reaches for Eijirou.

 

Eijirou reaches back.

 

They collide with all the force of every goodbye kiss they always deserved - they’re needy, desperate, and there’s too much between them. It’s not quite winter, just cold enough in the dark that it’s more comfortable in a coat, but they strip themselves of the cumbersome articles quickly.

 

They’re burning up from the inside, both of them - every atom in their bodies crying out, reaching, grabbing, pulling, tugging - Eijirou pulls Katsuki on top of him, fingers clumsily unbuttoning his shirt, and he slides it down Katsuki’s arms as he drags his tongue up the valley of his chest, up his neck, tasting every inch. There’s no finesse to their movements. It’s careless, it’s primal. 

 

It’s everything.

 

They nearly rip their own clothes in their recklessness, and Katsuki swears he’s never felt anything like this - he feels too big for his skin. He feels feral. 

 

Eijirou isn’t faring any better, mouth on every part of Katsuki’s skin he can reach. He bites, licks, sucks, kisses - like he can’t decide if he wants to worship Katsuki’s body or devour him - or a bit of both.

 

Katsuki doesn’t care.

 

It feels like a lifetime before Eijirou’s hands slide up the backs of Katsuki’s thighs. He’s acutely aware that Ei’s hands have never touched him there, and he slides his own hands into uncharted territory as he drags blunt nails down the chest he’s only ever touched through fabric. He revels in the heat beneath his fingertips, lets them travel lower, lower - 

 

And when he slides his broken hand around Ei’s hot, throbbing cock - he swears he’s been healed. 

 

He thought he understood, that night with Momo on the edge of the pasture. He thought he knew what she meant when she told him what a miracle felt like. He thought he understood divinity, holiness - he thought he knew sacred then, having only kissed it on the lips.

 

Now, when he watches Ei slide two of his own fingers between those same lips, he knows what it is to be reverent. He watches Ei’s lids drop, watches him coat his fingers in his own spit, watches the slow slide of Ei’s tongue around the fingers Katsuki’s only ever dared to dream of holding.

 

Ei takes his fingers out, reaches behind Katsuki, and at the first press of a warm, wet fingertip against Katsuki’s hole - they both groan. Katsuki arches his back, gives Ei as much access as he can, and Ei’s middle digit slides all the way in. Katsuki tries to focus, tries to make the hand around Ei’s cock do something other than hold it limply, but Ei either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind. He watches Katsuki’s jaw fall open on a moan, works his finger in and out, swirling it, stretching Katsuki’s rim as much as he can before he slides in the second finger.

 

And suddenly Katsuki’s staring up at the stars, all the breath in his lungs punched out of him as Ei flips their positions, hovers over Katsuki. His hand, which left Katsuki during the move, is back between his legs, two fingers pistoning in and out, curling - and Katsuki knows he’s not gonna last, not like this. He knows he’s gonna come before it goes any farther.

 

“Ei - fuck - m’gonna cum - “ he chokes out, and Ei doesn’t stop, rips the orgasm straight out of him and fingers him through it.

 

“God, Kat,” he whispers, breath hot against the sweat-damp skin of Katsuki’s neck, “knew you’d be gorgeous - knew you’d be beautiful when you come.”

 

Katsuki whimpers when Ei slides his fingers out, chokes on a sob and says, “Don’t - don’t stop - I need you, Ei.”

 

And Eijirou groans low, murmurs, “Anything, anything you want, I love you, I love you,” and he drags his thick fingers across Katsuki’s stomach, coating them in Katsuki’s cum, and then Kat sees stars when Ei slides three fingers back inside him.

 

“Needed you to come first, Kat, needed to make sure I saw it - “ Ei moans when Katsuki’s hole clenches tight around his fingers. “I need to be inside you, Katsuki, please, please let me - “

 

Katsuki drags Ei’s face down, smashes their mouths together and slides his tongue across those sharp teeth - he moans when he feels the tips catch, keens, high pitched and breathy, at the first taste of copper. 

 

“Please, fuck, fill me up, m’so empty without you, Ei,” he whimpers into Ei’s mouth, and Ei lets out the most beautiful sound - a low, needy, desperate sound, and Katsuki’s cock gives a valiant twitch as it starts to fill again. 

 

Ei can’t get on top of Katsuki fast enough - he takes his spit and cum covered fingers and scoops up the remaining cum from Katsuki’s stomach before using it to coat his own cock. 

 

Katsuki gasps at the first press of Ei’s cock at his hole, and Ei leans down, peppers his jaw with soft kisses, and says, “It’s okay, Katsuki, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’m right here, I love you,” as he pushes inside. 

 

Eijirou pushes slowly, filling Katsuki up bit by bit, pausing when Katsuki’s breath hitches, clenching his jaw when he’s trying to hold himself back. When Eijirou’s hips meet Katsuki’s ass and he’s fully inside him, Eijirou kisses Katsuki like he’s trying to say everything he’s wanted to say for almost nine years - he kisses apologies to each corner of his mouth, slides his tongue against Katsuki’s and licks out every time Katsuki didn’t get to say his name, bites love notes into Katsuki’s bottom lip, swallows every sound, every whimper, every moan. 

 

Katsuki spreads his legs wider, rolls his hips up and the motion makes Eijirou’s cock grind deeper inside him, and he knows this is the last time. He knows this is it - that after this, he’ll never be complete again. Eijirou carves out a place for himself inside Katsuki, grinds his hips down hard and makes sure that there will always be a part of him that can never be filled.

 

He adds another scar to Katsuki’s collection - another wound that will never heal. 

 

Katsuki cries out, louder than the thoughts, pushes them out of his head until the only thing he knows is Eijirou, Eijirou on top of him, Eijirou kissing him, Eijirou repeating, over and over, “I love you, I love you,” as if he thinks he can turn it into a spell - as if he thinks if he says it enough times, means it with every bone in his body, it will change what happens after.

 

They both know it won’t.

 

But in this pasture, on this night, under this moon - in this little corner of the universe - Katsuki isn’t prey, and Eijirou isn’t predator.

 

Katsuki is just Kat.

 

Eijirou, just Ei.

 

And they can be together.

 

So Katsuki whispers, “Please,” and Eijirou starts to move. He starts slow, he fucks deep and hard and slow, and Katsuki’s mouth falls open on a silent moan, and Eijirou gasps against his neck.

 

“I love you,” Katsuki tells him, for the first time. Eijirou chokes on a sob, curses low into his neck, and fucks into him faster.

 

“I love you, Ei,” he says again, and Eijirou whimpers, mouth hot on Katsuki’s skin.

 

Katsuki lets go.

 

He lets the tears fall, lets the stars and the moon bear witness to this baptism. He lets his broken hand slide from Eijirou’s hair to the grass at his side. He holds tight to the blades, begging the earth to stay still just one more moment.

 

You can spin again in the morning , he thinks. Let me have him. For just a little longer.

 

Eijirou raises up, rests his head against Katsuki’s, and he watches Katsuki’s face when he angles his hips, pulls back, and slams in, again and again, every thrust ripping heartbreaking sobs from his throat. 

 

He realizes, distantly, that Eijirou’s crying, too, and his heart shatters again, because he knows this is the only way this was ever going to happen.

 

They were always going to meet in the ring. They were always going to live across the hall from each other - Eijirou was always going to get caught, to get hurt, and Kat was always going to go with him.

 

They were always going to hitch that train, travel town to town. 

 

There was always going to be a pickpocket - Kat was always going to have to run.

 

And Eijirou, God bless him - Eijirou was always going to miss his hand. Because it was always going to break, and it was always going to be weak.

 

And it was always going to be this pasture. This pond. This grass, these tears, these cries. 

 

It was always going to be one night.

 

Kat was always going to be an outlaw. And Ei was always going to find him - right here.

 

Under the half-moon, in the cool blue glow of the light reflecting off the surface of the water. 

 

In his arms.

 

It was always going to be this, from the minute Katsuki snuck out of his parent’s house in the middle of the night at fifteen.

 

So he takes what he can from it, all it has to give. He wraps his legs around Eijirou’s waist and says, “Fuck me, come on, I love you, fuck me - “

 

Eijirou does - he fucks up into Katsuki, hard, fast, resting his weight on one hand to slide the other to Katsuki’s chest. He rubs the pad of his thumb over Katsuki’s nipple, mouth dropping open when Katsuki’s eyes roll back and he moans, high-pitched and long. Eijirou pinches, rolls, rubs Katsuki’s perfect pink nub and then gasps when Katsuki comes for the second time that night, hole spasming around his cock. 

 

Eijirou pants, grunts, hips stuttering as he comes inside Katsuki, buried to the hilt. He kisses Katsuki again, softer, whispers nonsense against his mouth as he rocks his hips slowly. 

 

He goes soft inside Katsuki, neither of them making a move to separate.

 

They lay there for a long time, whispering to each other in the dark, the only witnesses to their conversation the light from long-dead stars and a moon with half her face hidden by the earth.

 

When the sun rises the next morning on the pasture, casting it’s cheerful, yellow light on the pond - there is no evidence anything happened there. 

 

The men are gone.

 

-x-

 

Katsuki’s time with the Queen’s Boys comes to an end two years later. 

 

He isn’t surprised by it, because it’s part of the plan.

 

The reward for his capture is five thousand dollars, and he knows there’s only one way to be taken in alive. He writes Momo a letter and tells her that he’s done everything he can think to do, and he asks her to forgive him if Toshinori dies. The old man is still kicking, somehow - Katsuki wishes he’d listened better to the doctor when they talked about the disease. He knows it’s slow acting and painful. He hopes there isn’t a time limit.

 

There’s still a chance he can get Toshinori the cure.

 

He leaves a note for Mina.

 

And he walks out of the house.

 

-present day-

 

“Let’s go, then. It’s a long way home.”

 

Katsuki accepts Ei’s outstretched hand. He’s come to accept a lot of things recently. 

 

It’s a Sunday, but he’s not in a saloon. He’d been right, two years ago - the saloon had been a coincidence. It was Sundays that decided his fate.

 

Eijirou ties his hands together, and loops the other end of the rope around his waist. He hops up on his horse and they head off through the middle of town.

 

Katsuki feels like he’s being paraded like a prize.

 

“Is this really necessary, Red?” He has to yell to be heard over the jeers of the crowd around him. He glares at the onlookers. “Shouldn’t y’all be at church?”

 

“Relax, Kat. If I had you up on the horse they’d have my head for special treatment. I don’t want to do this any more than you do.”

 

Judging by the lines between his brows and the thin line of his mouth, Katsuki knows Ei’s telling the truth.

 

It’s not personal. It’s just his job.

 

Kat scowls at the crowd. Papers plastered with his own likeness stare back at him from their hands - One Hand Kat, the paper says. 

 

He wonders if anyone will remember his name was Katsuki Bakugou. He wonders if these people even know.

 

Eijirou wasn’t lying when he said it was a long way home, and he makes Kat walk until he has to crawl. His hands and knees are scraped up by the time they get out of town, and Eijirou takes pity on him and slings him up on the horse, belly first.

 

Katsuki finds all the theatrics unnecessary, but he reminds himself that it’s not personal.

 

It’s just his job. 

 

Ei’s partner rides alongside them, and every few miles or so Ei tosses him across the back of the other man’s horse. He doesn’t learn that man’s name. He doesn’t give a shit if he’s even got one.

 

One of the nights they stop to set up camp, a jackrabbit hops across the desert about a hundred and fifty feet away. Ei whips his pistol out of his holster and fires.

 

The rabbit goes down in one shot, because Ei never misses. If he can see it, he can shoot it. He’s always been like that. Katsuki’s never been half that good.

 

He misses watching Ei shoot bottles as a party trick after the fights at Rumi’s barn. He misses a lot of things.

 

He spends the next week alternating between walking, crawling, and hanging uncomfortably over the hind end of two different horses. He’s dirty, scraped, and tired. Ei snuck him bites of food whenever his asshole partner wasn’t paying attention. It felt like pity.

 

When they finally make it to their destination, Katsuki smiles . It’s almost over , he thinks. Just a few more minutes.

 

Ei’s partner sees him grinning, and he says, “Never seen somebody so happy to see that rope.”

 

Ei grunts, refusing to look at Katsuki.

 

He’s not happy to see the rope, he wants to say. He’s happy to see the end .

 

-x-

 

Eijirou walks Katsuki up the steps to the gallows.

 

He’s heard this is the longest walk a man can make, but on the way up, Eijirou counts just thirteen steps. It doesn’t seem all that long.

 

He wonders if it’s different because of where you end up when you get on the platform. He stands just to the left of the executioner. Katsuki keeps going, a few extra steps, till he’s standing on the center of the trapdoor.

 

The executioner slides the noose around Katsuki’s neck. Eijirou winces at the sound the rope makes against his hair - it’s quiet at the gallows today. The sheriff didn’t want a spectacle. He kept the hanging a secret because of the notoriety that came with One Hand Kat - a lot of people didn’t care too much for Katsuki, but there were more who supported him.

 

He’d never killed anyone. He’d never hurt anyone that didn’t hurt him first.

 

He stole money from people who already had too much - and a lot of people didn’t side with the victim on that one.

 

Eijirou keeps his eyes up, forces himself to watch. He doesn’t want Katsuki to think he’s weak - he wants Katsuki to know that he’s with him all the way to the end.

 

From the first day in the ring. To the last breath.

 

Every moment in between, too, whether they were with each other or not.

 

Someone asks Katsuki if he has any last words. There’s a beat of silence, and then Katsuki sighs.

 

“Ain’t nothin’ to say. It was always going to be like this.” And the sheriff slides the black cover over his head.

And Eijirou feels himself tear up, and he’s not sure why. The executioner moves in slow motion in his periphery, and pushes the lever forward.

 

The bottom drops out from under Katsuki, and he drops.

 

There’s a small snapping sound, and all six pairs of eyes on the platform - Ei’s, the deputy’s, the sheriff’s, the executioner’s, the doctor’s, and Ei’s partner’s - all snap up to the source.

 

From the top of the gallows, a short piece of rope hung limply.

 

“He’s runnin’ off! Kirishima, shoot that motherfucker!”

 

Eijirou whips around to see Katsuki tossing the cover behind him as he sprints off into the distance. With no crowd around, there’s no one to intervene. The six men on the platform are already too far behind.

 

Eijirou grabs his gun, pulls back the hammer, and fires -

 

And he misses.

 

Katsuki disappears into the treeline behind the church, and Eijirou can see, even from this distance, the hole he put in the center of the church door with his shot. 

 

The executioner, from behind them, says, “Someone cut this rope ahead of time,” and Ei’s partner mumbles something about not needing brains to push a lever. The sheriff turns on the executioner, face red as Eijirou’s hair, and yells at him about not checking the rope. The executioner says something about the person who ties it off, and Eijirou’s turned harshly by the deputy.

 

“You better go get him, boy,” he growls.

 

Eijirou cocks a brow. “I did my job, Deputy. This particular instance seems entirely out of the Pinkerton’s hands.”

 

“You were hired to bring a fugitive of the law to us today so that we could enact justice.”

 

Ei’s partner butts in and says, “Our job was to bring you the fugitive. That justice shit is y’all’s area. Our job ain’t got a damn thing to do with justice.”

 

Eijirou nods in agreement.

 

The sheriff, having finished berating the executioner, pipes up. “I reckon you oughta hand over the bounty you received as payment, till we get what we paid for.”

 

Ei scoffs. “If you think I ain’t already spent that money, you don’t know a damn thing about the Pinkerton’s. Y’all want him now? Y’all get him.”

 

And Ei walks down thirteen steps to the ground, leaving his partner to handle the aftermath of this shitshow. 

 

It was always going to be like this, Eijirou thinks. He hops onto the saddle of his horse and heads back home. There’s someone waiting for him, there. 

It was always gonna be you, Kat. And it was always gonna be me.

 

-x-

 

Momo opens the front door of Toshinori’s sprawling ranch home to a courier. He’s got two letters in his hands. 

 

“Sorry, ma’am, the first one was temporarily lost in transport. You should have received it last week.”

 

Momo thanks the man, waves him off, and shuts the door behind her. She opens the first letter, from Katsuki.

 

She reads slowly, but she makes it through the letter. Katsuki asks her to forgive him if Toshinori dies. She sends up a prayer and she hopes he hears it - of course she forgives him. No matter what happens to Toshinori. Katsuki did everything he could.

 

The second letter is thick, and she opens the envelope with shaky fingers. She reaches inside and pulls out a wad of cash, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. There’s a letter in the envelope as well, written in shaky handwriting.

 

For Toshinori.

 

Tell him Eijirou says thank you, and tell him Kat says he followed the rules.

Notes:

come talk to me about this fic on Twitter! or anything. i will talk ur ear off about whatever u bring up

@abby1kenobi_

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of wild west weekly