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Legend says that the Sword of Destiny will grant victory to any person who wields it. Its master will be able to turn the tide of battle… of war… of history. In the martial world, where clans have been vying for control for hundreds of years, this power is precious… priceless. 

But only the most worthy may wield the sword, as the legend goes. So, it has been passed down from hand to carefully chosen hand, from mentor to carefully chosen student, since its creation so long ago. The Sword of Destiny now belongs to Midoriya Izuku of the Yuuei clan, however left in the care of Toshinori Yagi - Midoriya’s mentor and the sword’s former master - who has promised to keep it safe while the young man completes his training.  

But it’s a dangerous time to be charged with such a task, to protect an object that holds so much power. The sword’s seventh master, Shimura Nana, has been killed in battle, Lord Yagi has been severely injured while avenging her death, and Midoriya has left Yuuei territory to complete his training, opening up a power vacuum in the martial world. 

Now, the Sword of Destiny lies waiting, ready for its new master to claim it. 

“If you come quietly, you may be shown mercy.”

“If I don’t come at all,” Todoroki replies, “then I have no need for mercy.”

Bakugou watches as Todoroki turns around to face him, the sword he has come to claim now to his back, still resting undisturbed on its pedestal. The room is dark all but for the full moon shining through the open windows, its light illuminating the sword’s wooden sheath and eclipsing Todoroki in its umbra, cloaking him in shadow. 

Neither man draws his weapon, though both are well aware that the other is armed. Bakugou is never without his sword attached securely to his hip and rarely is Todoroki seen without the twin blades upon his back.

But with any luck, they won’t come to blows. Not with steel, at least. Bakugou has never been one to back down from a fight, but that’s not how he wants this to end. Not with him and Todoroki. But Todoroki has gone this far, betrayed Lord Yagi’s trust and lied to Bakugou in more ways than one, so Bakugou knows that the other man won’t turn back now, no matter the outcome. 

“Lord Yagi invites you into his home,” Bakugou growls, “and this is the gratitude you repay him with?!”

Todoroki shouldn’t even be here, shouldn’t have ever been welcomed into Yuuei territory as he was. As Lord Todoroki Enji’s only son, he’s the next in line to lead the Doryoku once his father cannot, the heir to a clan of murderers and raiders and thieves.

They’ve been terrorizing the border between the Yuuei clan and themselves for years now and Lord Yagi thought that a little good faith could change that. He and Lord Todoroki were brothers in arms once, so long ago. They fought together and lived together as comrades before Lord Todoroki decided that he wanted more than the humble life of a Yuuei warrior.

He went rogue, started his own clan – the Doryoku – taking in outcasts, criminals, and those not fit to lead a proper warrior lifestyle. The clan grew quickly and throughout the years, Lord Todoroki has made a name for himself as one of the most feared and formidable men in the martial world. 

So, when a message was sent to Lord Yagi, requesting that he take in Todoroki Enji’s only son as his ward, an offering to express his sympathies over Shimura Nana’s death and to build a bridge between the two clans, Yagi accepted with little hesitation. The younger Todoroki was sent under the guise of peace, but Bakugou now knows better. It was a ruse, all of it. And Bakugou fell for it, completely. 

Bakugou hasn’t been part of the Yuuei clan for more than a few years now, but he was quick to gain Yagi’s trust and the favor of Yagi’s student and successor, Midoriya Izuku. With Midoriya gone to train with Sorahiko Torino, Lord Yagi had assigned Bakugou as Todoroki’s chaperone, to see to his needs and acclimate him to the Yuuei clan’s ways of life. 

The two of them grew close, closer than Bakugou should’ve allowed. Bakugou feels his mistake like a knife through the heart, one which will leave a scar that he knows will never fade. 

“All I need to do is raise the alarm,” Bakugou continues, trying to coax some kind of reaction out of the other man. Anything to combat this cold silence that’s surrounding them. 

When Todoroki doesn’t answer, Bakugou begins to move, taking a few small steps to his left. Not fast enough to startle the other man into a fight, but enough that Todoroki has to follow him, pivoting his body where he stands. 

As Todoroki turns, the light from the moon begins to illuminate the porcelain skin of his face, leaving the other side in shadow. Bakugou takes in the shape of the man’s rounded cheek, the silhouette of a chiseled jawline, the soft white of his pinned-up hair that seems to shimmer beneath the pale glow of the moon.

Bakugou, at one time, would picture strands of his own flaxen hair intertwined in a braid with Todoroki’s long tresses. Bakugou’s shorter hair would bear Todoroki’s mark, as well – white and red woven into blonde. This is the Yuuei clan’s symbol of lovers parted, because Bakugou knew that the day would come when Todoroki would have to go back to the Doryoku. But he never thought it would be so soon, and surely not under these conditions. 

“I’ll bring this whole damn house down around you!” Bakugou snarls. “Is that what you want, Todoroki?!”

They’re facing each other, the Sword of Destiny now to Bakugou’s left, Todoroki’s right. Bakugou’s chest feels heavy, heaving even with so little exertion. He feels his fingertips begin to itch, his body become restless. He feels wild, out of control, so different from Todoroki’s cold composure. 

Todoroki breaks eye contact with Bakugou and looks out toward the window, up toward the moon. The wind wafts in, sending wisps of white and red hair billowing across his face. “You would have done it already, if you were going to,” he replies, seemingly unphased by Bakugou’s coming undone.

“This will be a declaration of war!” Bakugou says, almost pleading, needing Todoroki’s attention on him once more. “Shouto…”

Todoroki does look back at Bakugou then, with an expression that the other man can only describe as regretful. “You don’t understand,” he replies before he takes a breath and steels himself, hardening his face like a mask. He takes a step back on one foot, bracing himself for the fight to come. “I can’t leave without the sword.”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffs, getting into position himself. “Then you’re not leaving at all.”

Bakugou is the one with everything to lose, and he knows it. If Todoroki closes the distance between the sword and himself before Bakugou can get to him, then they will both be lost, Todoroki being quicker and more swift than Bakugou will ever be. And even if a chase does ensue, Bakugou will surely be led into Doryoku territory, which would no doubt be a deadly mistake on his part. 

So Bakugou attacks first, fists aiming at debilitating points in an attempt to end the fight fast. Nose. Temple. Kidneys. Todoroki evades all three. He counters with strikes of his own - jaw, chest, kick to the knee - which Bakugou blocks instead of dodges.

Todoroki is quick, slender, and lithe, his training obviously emphasizing grace, agility, and speed. He’s strong, but nowhere near as strong as Bakugou, who has grown powerful from years of wielding his heavy sword. In turn, Bakugou’s technique is blunt, brutal force. Slower than Todoroki, but more destructive. 

They’re true opposites of each other. Two sides of a perfectly balanced sword.

They lunge and parry. Punch, kick, and strike. With every step, Bakugou moves himself between Todoroki and the weapon he has come to claim, forcing his opponent to retreat further into the room with each charge.

Bakugou attacks with a signature move - Dragon of the Rising Dawn. Todoroki counterattacks with Winter Lotus. Back and forth, never wavering. Fanned Flame and then Frozen Tempest. Smoking Fire Flower and then…

Todoroki’s kick connects. Bakugou barely sees the man’s foot leave the ground before his neck is wrenched backward by the force of the blow to his face. He stumbles back in shock, spitting at the acrid taste filling his mouth. 

They’ve sparred over the months that Todoroki has been in Yuuei. Bakugou thought he knew how Todoroki’s body moved almost by rote now, the angle of his punches, the speed in which he can strike. He thought he knew, but as Bakugou has quickly learned, Todoroki has been hiding yet another piece of himself. Bakugou doesn't know this move. Has never seen this style. Todoroki knew - he knew he would have to use it some day.

Bakugou can’t linger on the betrayal. This fight isn’t over yet. Bakugou charges.

It’s quiet in Lord Yagi’s armory. The room is silent save for the sound of flesh on flesh when someone connects or blocks a hit, their heavy breathing, the shuffling of feet. Despite his threats, Bakugou has wanted to keep this discreet as possible, to convince Todoroki to give up and turn himself in, or to even leave and go back to the Doryoku. But Bakugou is caught off guard by Todoroki’s sudden change of style, the skills and techniques he has never before seen from the man. He knows that Todoroki will win this if he keeps fighting him hand-to-hand. 

The sound of metal against metal will surely draw a passing guard, if not rouse the household, but Bakugou pulls his sword from its scabbard anyway, whip-quick and poised toward Todoroki. 

“I’ll let you leave,” Bakugou says in an uncharacteristic display of kindness. “Just forget about the sword and go home.”

Todoroki shakes his head, eyes somber, as he reaches up and behind his back. He pulls his twin swords from their scabbards, not quick like Bakugou, but slow and steady and practiced. He’s opening himself up for an attack, and at this distance, with his speed, Bakugou could end it all now, could land the final blow to ensure the safety of the sword and the Yuuei clan’s position in the martial world.

But he doesn’t. He waits. It’s the Yuuei way to ensure that fights are fair and honorable, and even with so much to lose, Bakugou would never turn his back on the principals Lord Yagi and the Yuuei clan have instilled in him. 

And even if that wasn’t so, this is still Shouto…

They’re both without any armor. Bakugou supposes that Todoroki left his behind in favor of being silent and stealthy. Bakugou, for his part, only left his bed because Todoroki was yet to join him. He meant only to seek him out, not knowing that he would be bearing witness to that very man’s treachery.

Not knowing that not having his armor would be the difference between peace and war in the martial world. 

This is dangerous. Both men are deadly. Bakugou’s sword is large and heavy, and spans more distance than Todoroki’s shorter, thinner swords. But Todoroki’s weapons are light and swift, able to slice through the air with little effort. 

Like the ringing of a bell, sound echoes through the armory as weapons clash. Bakugou lets loose a barrage of blows, hacking-hacking-hacking away at Todoroki’s smaller swords and waning energy. The repeated impact becomes too much for him, and his sword is knocked from his left hand, leaving him with only half his defense, but double the strength to wield it.

Todoroki raises his sword with both hands, ready to deliver what will no doubt be a mighty blow. Bakugou raises his own sword to block it but is met with a kick to his unprotected stomach, knocking the wind out of him and making him stagger back in pain and surprise. Before he can reorient himself, Todoroki’s blade slices through the space between them and lands flush against Bakugou’s throat.

The blow would have killed him, should have. The speed and strength behind the strike would have been enough to cut through half of Bakugou’s neck, but Todoroki stopped just in time. He does put more pressure against Bakugou’s throat though, taking a step forward and forcing the other man back. Bakugou hits the wall, and with nowhere else to go he flattens himself against the unyielding stone. 

Todoroki’s eyes are hard and unmoving from Bakugou’s own, his hand ever-steady, but Bakugou sees the tick in his jaw before it tenses, sees the hesitation. Todoroki could still kill him. A quick slide of the sword at the right spot and Bakugou will bleed out in less than a minute.  

“Don’t show me mercy, you little shit,” Bakugou hisses, pressing the flesh of his throat further into the blade. “I wouldn’t do the same for you.”

Todoroki’s brows furrow, lips narrow. This close, Bakugou doesn’t know whether to look at his grey eye or the blue, they have both always captivated him with equal measure. But he makes sure not to look away, because his words aren’t just provoking - they’re prophetic. If Todoroki lets him live, he can be sure that their next fight won’t end so graciously.

“Drop your weapon, Katsuki.”

The hilt of Bakugou’s weapon is still clutched tight in his hand - his arm extended outward at his side, the tip of the sword almost touching the floor. His fingers clench around it and Bakugou is ready to defy him, but Todoroki’s blade cuts into his throat, shallow, but the sword is sharp and he can feel the rivulets of blood creeping down his neck. 

“Drop it,” Todoroki tells him again. 

He does then, drops his sword to the ground with a metallic clang. Without lowering his gaze from Bakugou’s eyes, Todoroki places his foot on the hilt and kicks it away, sending it skittering across the ancient tile floor and far enough away that Bakugou wouldn’t have time to retrieve it if Todoroki decided to make an escape. 

It takes a moment after, but Todoroki removes the blade from Bakugou’s throat, rolls his wrist around and back to sheathe the sword effortlessly over his shoulder. Its partner is still missing, lost somewhere in the darkness of the armory, but Bakugou will be damned if he lets Todoroki leave with it. 

Once the sword is put away, Bakugou relaxes, but not by much. He drew his weapon because Todoroki was beating him hand-to-hand, and he won’t make the mistake of thinking Todoroki’s fists aren’t as deadly as his swords. 

He can finally breathe, though, drawing in a shuddering breath. But to a man as apprehensive as Todoroki is at this moment, even that is taken as a threat. Before the exhale, Todoroki’s hand is on Bakugou’s throat, keeping him still and flush against the wall. The salty sweat of his palm is seeping into Bakugou’s cut, making it sting, smearing the blood on his skin.

They’re close. Pressed up against each other, Bakugou can feel the harsh ebb and flow of Todoroki’s chest as he breathes, the heat of his body through layers of fabric. He can feel Todoroki’s rapid heartbeat against his own chest. Still, Bakugou doesn’t move. 

Todoroki leans forward and presses his forehead against Bakugou’s. He slides his hand up from Bakugou’s throat to cup his cheek in a rough palm, thumb rubbing against the man’s bottom lip. He closes his eyes and breathes, and then Bakugou feels him retreating, the space between their bodies growing. 

Bakugou grabs him by the front of his shirt before he can get too far and pulls him forward, pressing his mouth against the other man’s in a hard kiss. Todoroki gasps, caught off guard, but quickly recovers. His lips begin to move against Bakugou’s with little hesitation, a practiced familiarity laced into every movement. 

For Bakugou, the kiss is more desperate than anything. Inelegant. But Bakugou doesn’t care about it feeling good. He just wants Todoroki to feel something. And he must, because his hands move to Bakugou’s hair, gripping the strands tight in his fist, as he deepens the kiss. 

Bakugou keeps his hands clenched in the front of the man’s shirt, holding him closely, confident enough now to touch his tongue to Todoroki’s lips. When Todoroki returns in kind, Bakugou makes a sound - small and pitiful - miserable enough to startle him.

“Katsuki --”

He moves to take Todoroki’s jaw in his palms, brings him forward again and doesn’t let him go. He bites the man’s lips, his chin, his throat. Todoroki, barely taller, pulls Bakugou’s hair to tilt his head back, sucks a bruise into the side of his neck as he slots a thigh between Bakugou’s legs.

Bakugou squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his jaw to keep from calling out. He arches his back, presses his shoulder blades against the wall to tilt his hips forward and put more pressure on Todoroki’s thigh. 

Todoroki grinds against him for good measure, and only moves away to get his fingers on the ties of Bakugou’s pants and slide them down his legs. When they’re out of his way, Todoroki grabs Bakugou by his bare hips, fingernails digging into the warm and sweat-slick skin. He closes the distance again, molding himself against Bakugou’s half-nude body. 

“Shouto –” Bakugou breathes, and he’s shaking his head, willing him to stay after all of this. He would forget about this night, if Todoroki would turn back, if he would forget about the sword. They could pretend like it was just a bad dream and awake the next morning in a world where Todoroki didn’t betray him and his entire clan. They could – 

“WHO’S IN THERE?”

A voice outside the armory startles them both, and Todoroki jumps back before Bakugou has the chance to grab him. Bakugou moves forward to stop the other man’s retreat but is caught up in the pants wrapped up around his ankles. He stumbles and falters, giving Todoroki enough time to claim the Sword of Destiny and disappear into the night.