Archive of Our Own ^beta

I.

“how clear, how lovely bright,/ how beautiful to sight”

Katsuki draws the sun across the sky, his heralds leading the way in front of him, and casts his gaze down onto the mortal realm. 

His eyes seek out only one thing, one person in the realm below.

He finds the boy working away in the forest, squatting down in the midst of long grass and picking herbs. He can see him muttering to himself, thoughtful and immersed in his job. Katsuki idly wonders how this became his routine, that every time the sun rose, he would seek out his human, and watch him from his vantage point. The sight soothes him.

One of his heralds, Kirishima, follows his line of sight and huffs out a laugh.

“Watching your Izuku again?”

“Shut up,” Katsuki orders. “Move, you idiot.”

“You really like that human, don’t you?” His other herald, Sero hums amusedly.

“You too, shut up,” Katsuki snaps, feeling his face tinge with heat. 

“Why don’t you make him yours?”

“I said shut up ,” Katsuki growls at them, cuffing both their heads, “hurry up and go.” 

Both Kirishima and Sero laughs, but they do as Katsuki says, leaving the sun bright and high in the sky, their duties done for the day as they retired to their home. Below them, crops grow, flowers bloom, and humans bask in the warmth of the life-giving, all-seeing sun.

The boy called Izuku draws Katsuki in like a bee to honey, a moth to light. The irony is not lost on him: Katsuki is the embodiment of the light that brings, nurtures and governs all life, but here he is, a god, wanting a mortal. 

It is foolish, he knows, to take a mortal as a lover. Mortals are troublesome, clingy, fragile, and they all died fast and young. He isn’t like some of the other gods, who liked to take human lovers and then abandoned them, left them bereft and longing for the rest of their lives. It is, in short, a fickle whim of gods that had inconvenient and particularly cruel consequences. Katsuki wanted nothing to do with it.

Watching Izuku from above is enough for him. Izuku is always a vision to behold, he who laughed and sang and walked through meadows by himself, the rose of his body unravelling under the morning light. He has freckles, sun-begotten constellations mapped across his face, and his hair shines leaf-green under the rays. His gait is clumsy and graceful all at once, ane he seems utterly at home where wild things grow. When he lifts his face to the sun and closes his eyes, his mouth stretched into a radiant smile, Katsuki gazes back at the delicate bone structure, his rose-pink lips that curves upwards, and his fair, smooth skin. 

And he aches.

II.

“ i will take the sun in my mouth/ and leap into the ripe air/ alive/ with closed eyes ”

When Hagakure took over for Night, Katsuki found himself in the mortal realm, reclining in a deserted meadow away from human eyes. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realise that there were footsteps coming, the foliage crunching underfoot until they were too close.Katsuki rises from his position on the ground, already feeling irritated and ready to smite the human and/or leave immediately. But before he could disappear from sight, Izuku peeks out from behind a tree. Katsuki stills.

The Fates would’ve laughed. There is rarely the thing humans called coincidence in the world, with old, withered hands weaving each and every life together, never pausing. They definitely had a hand in this situation right now, and are probably laughing at Katsuki.

Stupid old hags , Katsuki thinks, but his heart thumps hard against his rib cage, anticipatory. He sits up, running his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t know what he expected, or is waiting for, but Izuku walks closer nervously, like a shy animal. The Moon shines fondly down onto him, and his pale skin seems luminescent, his dark hair lit at the ends. He is slender and petite, and his clothes hang off his frame, endearingly and hopelessly rumpled. 

Izuku comes to a stop a few cautious steps away from Katsuki. “Hello,” he says shyly, tucking his curly hair behind his ear. Katsuki can’t tear his eyes away from the vision in front of him. He is the most beautiful human Katsuki had laid eyes on, mesmerising. He can’t think of another mortal he’d seen that was as lovely as the one standing before him.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” Izuku was saying, “are you from the village?”

“No,” Katsuki replies, “I am not.”

“Ah, I see. Well, if you’re here first, then I’ll leave…” 

“No. Stay.”

A rose-pink blush spreads across Izuku’s cheeks, and he wavers. Then, after some hesitation, he settles down beside Katsuki. There is still a good measure of distance between the both of them, too far to bridge. 

Izuku starts humming to himself, leaning back onto his hands. 

“It’s late,” Katsuki mutters out of the plain desire to hear Izuku’s high, delicate voice, “why are you out here?”

“Ah, I couldn’t really sleep,” Izuku lifts his lips into a small, self-conscious smile, as demure but brighter than the white light streaming over the both of them.

“Mm.” 

“And yourself? Why are you still here?”

“Wanted to be alone.” 

“Then…”

“You’re fine.” 

“Oh, okay,” Izuku’s mouth is still upturned. His eyes are crinkled, and Katsuki wants to taste his mouth. He smells faintly of musk, later this day. Katsuki wonders how he would smell in the morning, if he would smell like crisp sunlight, like Katsuki’s light. 

Katsuki didn’t know how long they sat there, with the stars twinkling coolly above them, listening to the sounds of the forest and the breeze after they fell into silence. The night breeze ripples through the grass, carrying a sweet scent. It is so simple and natural, and Katsuki felt hopelessly drawn to this mortal, even though he is doing nothing at all, just sitting there beside Katsuki, humming to himself. Katsuki watches him from the corner of his eye, watches the white-sand moon cast ethereal light over him and sprinkle moon-dust over his wild curls, watches the easy, calm smile play on full lips. 

He thinks he might be in love.

After a while, Izuku stretches, a soft hum coming from his throat. 

“I should go home,” he sighs, grass sticking to his palms and he sits up fully.  

“I’ll walk you,” Katsuki says, rising from where he’s sitting. Izuku looks surprised, but another sweet smile lifts his mouth. He stands as well, carefully dusting his loose clothes free of grass and dirt. 

“Will it be on your way home?” Izuku asks, as they step through the dark woods, towards Izuku’s tiny cottage. 

Katsuki hums back absent-mindedly. He can feel Izuku’s body heat emitting from his side, where their shoulders brush against each other’s. Katsuki’s blood sings, shivers at their proximity. 

They reach Izuku’s home after a short walk. Izuku stands at the threshold of the door, turning to Katsuki with another one of his shy smiles. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Katsuki returns. He feels the desire to pull Izuku back, to stay with him a little longer, until dawn had to break, but the door had shut with a quiet, definitive thud before he could speak. 

The Moon and Night retreats slowly, and the darkness lightens. Katsuki returns to his temple, his heart light.

III.

“my blood approves/ and kisses are a better fate than wisdom”

Twilight is half-gone, the skies are a pinkish-indigo edged with the barest hint of blue. The heat of the sun had faded away, and the air is cooler, gentler on the body.

Izuku’s eyes are fixed skyward, and he is humming with quiet contentment. It is routine now, for the both of them to find themselves at this tiny meadow, enjoying each other’s company, side-by-side. They don’t speak all the time, but sometimes Izuku would tell Katsuki about his day, rambling about something or another in his delicate, undulating voice, and when he laughed, the shadows seemed brighter. Their fingers brushed against each other’s, and Katsuki let his hand cover Izuku’s, running his thumb lightly over the paper-thin skin stretched over Izuku’s knuckles.

“I really hope the medicine helps her,” Izuku sighs, and he leans his head against Katsuki’s shoulder, their hand curled one on top of the other, “it would make me happy, if it does.”

Katsuki slides an arm around Izuku’s waist, lifts his head, and presses his lips on Izuku’s mouth.

Katsuki’s heartbeat rang in his ears. Izuku’s mouth was softer, sweeter and more pilant than Katsuki could imagine. All thought ceased in that moment, leaving only the fervent touch of their lips, and Katsuki’s hand resting against the small of Izuku’s back. 

Izuku doesn’t respond until Katsuki pulls away. 

“Go on,” he whispers, green eyes catching Katsuki’s, exultant in the dim light, “don’t stop there.”

There is a roar of victory somewhere in Katsuki. He carefully tilts Izuku’s head back with light fingers, and kisses him with more intent, more ardour. He feels heat churning within him, bursting from his fingertips, and behind his closed eyes is a field of red, the colour of desire. 

Katsuki pulls away before he can lose control. He is panting, trembling a little at the force of emotion that had welled in him. This mortal is dangerous , Katsuki thinks, as Izuku makes a sound and bends closer, chasing his lips again, this is dangerous, I could hurt him if I wasn’t careful, I might burn him— 

“Kacchan?” Izuku breathes, his sweet, sweet breath fanning over Katsuki’s lips. He cups Katsuki’s face between his hot, smooth palms and looks at him. Katsuki could make out the faintest tinge of pink across his freckled cheeks. Izuku’s eyes catches the moonlight and glints. “What’s… is anything wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Katsuki rasps, digging his fingers into the grass so he won’t give into temptation to whisk Izuku back to his temple where they could make love against Katsuki’s sheets, where it is always bright and warm, where they would not be disturbed, where Katsuki could make Izuku him own. Instead, he gingerly takes Izuku’s fingers and presses his mouth to them. 

Izuku cocks his head at him, his mouth pursed uncertainly. 

“You’re not…” he hesitates, capturing his lush bottom lip between his teeth, “regretting this, are you?”

“No,” Katsuki says emphatically, fiercely serious, still keeping a tight hold on Izuku’s hand. “Never.” 

Izuku, mouth swollen from the kisses, beams at him. Cloaked in the monochrome colours of Night, he is otherworldly and lovely, but Katsuki still likes him better in sunlight, bathed and soaked in his colours. Izuku belongs in the sun, belongs to light, belongs to Katsuki. 

“You should go back before Night steals you away,” Katsuki says hoarsely, clearing his throat. “I’ll walk you back.”

Izuku nods, fingers twisting in his robe. 

They linger at the threshold. Izuku rocks forward and kisses Katsuki on the corner of his lips. Then, with a pink face, he mutters goodnight and darts into his cottage. 

Katsuki returns to his temple, his body tingling with the feel of Izuku’s lips on his, searing and incandescent. 

IV.

“yours is the darkness of my soul’s return”

Making love to Izuku is Katsuki’s new favourite thing. It was better than drinking the first harvest’s wine, better than unleashing the full extent of his powers, better than letting the sun’s rays wash over him on a good day.

Katsuki rolls his hips and pushes further into Izuku, whose hair is damp with sweat and who is watching him with half-lidded, dark, wet eyes. Katsuki’s fingers brands Izuku with marks not unlike burns, bright red and glaring. Their bodies rise and fall together rhythmically, as Izuku’s cries echo throughout Katsuki’s body. Like this, Katsuki feels unendingly powerful, he feels invincible, feels inevitable. His blood is molten lava bubbling, crashing inside him.

Izuku’s body shudders under Katsuki’s hands, and he spurts, coming with a soft cry, pink down to his chest. The dancing flames at the fireplace bathe him in amber. Izuku pants wildly, trembling against the sheets as he rode out the aftershocks.

Katsuki marks him, marks his human, so that no other god may touch him. If other humans dared, they would be smited immediately and without mercy, Katsuki decides, as he traces his tongue up Izuku’s throat, dropping a kiss at the back of his ear.

Izuku giggles drowsily, snuggling closer into Katsuki’s arms. His eyes fall shut and his hand draws idle circles on Katsuki’s shoulder, a quiet purr erupting when Katsuki sucks a bruise at the back of his neck. 

Izuku's whisper breaks the quiet moment. “Why do you only come to visit me at night?” 

Katsuki rested his fingers against Izuku’s cheek. He doesn’t answer. Izuku sighs, his breath sweet and warm. 

“Sometimes, when I wake up, alone, I wonder if you’re only a dream,” he whispers, confesses, bestows upon Katsuki a secret buried deep in the shadows. Izuku lifts his head and meets Katsuki’s eyes, vulnerable, his mouth pursed into a thoughtful pout.

“I promise you,” Katsuki says lowly, taking Izuku’s hand firmly and dropping a kiss on Izuku’s forehead. “I am very real.” 

Izuku searches his eyes. He nods, and drops his head back down onto Katsuki’s shoulder. He snuffles against Katsuki’s skin. “Alright.” 

Katsuki tugs Izuku closer to him and rests his head against the top of Izuku’s head. Do you want stay with me forever, he thinks, but doesn’t say, because he cannot predict Izuku’s reaction. Would he be happy that Katsuki is a god? Would he be sad? What would he look like, if Katsuki told him? Katsuki pushes these thoughts away and thinks instead of Izuku’s smooth, lovely skin, his slow, even breaths fanning over Katsuki’s neck.

He doesn’t ask do you love me because he knows. 

Izuku kisses him and falls asleep tucked in his embrace, his face calm and contented. His hair is splayed over Katsuki’s arm, and he is the most precious thing that Earth has to offer Katsuki. The fire glows brighter where it is crackling at the fireplace. Katsuki wills the Moon to stay awake longer, for Night to prolong, that morning is still far away as he pulls Izuku closer and closes his eyes.

V.

“the sun i can/ touch and kiss/ and hold”

The harder Katsuki falls in love, the brighter the sun blazes across the sky, and the Earth blisters under the force of the sun god’s fervour. The torrid heat covers the mortal realm in an unbearable haze.

“Bro,” Kaminari says, as the two gods sat side by side along the pond in Katsuki’s temple, “you’re so in love, man.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Kirishima said you’ve been sneaking away to see your cute human.” Kaminari waggles his eyebrows at Katsuki. 

“I’ll kill Kiri later,” Katsuki assures Kaminari. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s been a little hot,” Kaminari tells Katsuki, fanning himself. 

“And?”

“The humans won’t be able to take it.”

“Then make some thunderstorms, you idiot.”

“You do need to dial it down though,” Kaminari says cheerfully, hopping onto his feet, “if not we’ll be looking at fried humans soon.”

“Says you when you accidentally threw a lightning bolt down and actually fried a mortal?”

“HEY! You swore never to talk about that!” 

“I didn’t swear,” Katsuki raises an eyebrow at Kaminari.

“Why are we friends?”

“We are not friends.”

“Katsuki!” 

“What?”

Kaminari went on whining and whining, until Katsuki kicks him into the pond just to watch him splutter. 

Kaminari pulls himself out, cussing at Katsuki, who just laughs at his offended face.

“Seriously,” Kaminari tells him, “Toshinori-san’s going to look for you soon if this goes on.”

“Toshi-san has better things to do than come after me.”

“His precious humans are being baked because you’re in love ,” Kaminari says, with another shit-eating grin.

“Shut the Hades up,” Katsuki orders, then kicks Kaminari out of his temple.

Before Kaminari ducks out of sight, he shouts at Katsuki, “can I go and see your human?”

“Stay the fuck away from him.”

“Eh?! Stingy!”

VI.

“you only have to let the soft animal of your body/  love what it loves.”

The Council of Gods happens once every year. It’s always some extravagant affair that Katsuki hates attending, but all were expected to attend so they could talk about the state of the world, catch up, discuss important events and how the next half-year would go. They left their jobs and their stations for a day, leaving only one god overseeing affairs on earth that day. Usually, it is just dull socialising, and Katsuki usually escaped when he could.

He greets his mother, who is standing with his father. Mitsuki was resplendent in her usual full-white dress that brushes the floor, while Masaru was reserved and stoic in a simple shirt and linen pants.

“Katsuki, when will I see this mortal of yours?” Mitsuki demands as soon as Katsuki finished his greeting.

“Mother,” Katsuki groans, rolling his eyes, “please.”

“I want to see him,” Mitsuki insists, “I have to know my son-in-law.”

“Father, please stop Mother.”

“I am curious to see this human of yours too,” Masaru says mildly. Katsuki groans louder.

“Everyone is talking about this,” Mitsuki informs Katsuki, as if he doesn't already know, “because the untouchable and impervious sun god finally fell in love, and with a mortal, no less.”

“Who’s been babbling?” Katsuki grouses, “this is none of anyone’s business.”

“As the all-seeing sun, your business affects other businesses.”

“They should just all mind their own business and do their jobs.”

“Katsuki! Manners!”

“Shut up, old hag!”

“MANNERS!” Mitsuki screeches at Katsuki, leaving Masaru to pacify his fireball of a family.

The gods conversed, socialised, spoke and laughed, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, because it was merely a regular meeting, a meeting when gods took a break from their duties and turned their gazes inwards, towards each other, instead of their fragile mortal charges.

But Katsuki, the all-seeing sun, should never have looked away.

VII.

“heat is the echo of your gold”

Katsuki steps with purpose. The ground quakes under his feet. He is glowing, crackling with energy, and the humans around him lower their heads to the ground and quiver, for fear they may burn to ash as they set eyes on the sun god in his glory and grief. They would be blinded, if they dare raise their heads. 

The power of the god insists on full and irrevocable submission. 

All Katsuki sees is red. Red, the colour of blood, of rage. Red, glowing crimson like Katsuki’s irises. Red, dripping slickly onto the floor, like the sound of someone walking away, red, spreading across the floor like morbid fingers branching outwards, begging for help. Red, with its iron tang heavy in the air, as heavy as grief. Red, warning, damage, heartache, heartbreak.

Katsuki sits down beside Izuku’s body, his lifeblood seeping into Katsuki’s robes and staining them crimson. His eyes are closed and he is pale, unmoving, no sign of life. Katsuki pulls out the knife and drops it on the floor, before he lifts Izuku’s limp body into his arms. 

“Izuku,” he whispers, bracing a hand against the thin back. 

No answer. 

Katsuki hears his heart crack. 

There is rage, faint and thrumming, but growing, and sorrow, sharp and stabbing. He pulls Izuku close in his arms, cradles him like a precious treasure, ignoring how the blood has smeared over his hands, his white robes.

“You dare,” he whispers, but the humans heard him. They tremble. Katsuki lowers his head, his expression covered by Izuku’s hair. His hand strokes Izuku’s back gently, tender and in pain. Izuku is so cold, so cold. “You dare.”

The rage settles into a calm fury.

“You shall be punished for inciting my wrath,” Katsuki hears himself say, as calm as the air gets before a storm. “I will bring calamity to you. You will know an endless darkness, an endless winter. Your crops will wither. Your animals will die. Your children will not know the light of the sun. For many moons, your resources will dwindle, and many will perish. You will suffer, for what you’ve taken from me.”

His curse ringing in the air, Katsuki, with Izuku’s lifeless body cradled firmly in his arms, leaves without a backwards glance.

VIII.

“and from the forlorn world his visage hide…” 

For days after Izuku’s death, the sky trembled and roared with the sun god’s despair and rage. The sun scorched the ground and burnt the earth. Water dried up and the earth cracked from the unrelenting, unforgiving heat. 

Then, the world plunges into darkness. The same colour as Katsuki’s grief, thick and unforgiving, ruthlessly choking and suffocating. The Earth is slowly dying, and it is bitterly cold. It is an accusation, a punishment, the human realm forced to share Katsuki's despair. 

Katsuki cradles Izuku’s still body in his arms where the smell of death erased Izuku’s warm, honeyed scent, and he presses kisses over his pale skin. 

Even the god of the sun cannot defy death. 

He had brought Izuku’s body to the goddess of healing, but she could only heal his surface wounds. Nothing she could do would bring Izuku back from the Underworld, where his soul had gone. 

He squeezes nectar over Izuku’s pale lips, and it drips over his mouth and runs down his cheeks. He tries to heal him with his powers, but Izuku remains unmoved. He breathes life into him, but life leaked out without animating him. 

No tears fell, but Katsuki wants the humans to hurt, to suffer, for taking away his love prematurely. 

Katsuki doesn’t know how long has passed when his mother steps into his temple and into the sanctum that housed Izuku’s body. 

Katsuki was laying down fresh flowers around Izuku, as if he could make him vibrant again, surrounded by the colourful blooms. The smell of the flowers perfumed the air. 

“Son.”

Katsuki doesn’t look at her.

“Are you done grieving?” 

Katsuki raises his head, his face a mask, blank and haunted. Mitsuki doesn’t need to hear the verbal answer to see it etched in deep lines on his face.

“You can turn him. A new flower or a new tree to remember him. Remembrance is better than nothing.”

“What use,” Katsuki whispers, raw and flayed open, “are flowers and trees? What use is remembrance? What use is a world that does not have him?”

“The humans are dying. They need you.” 

Katsuki’s answer is cool, merciless. “They deserve to die.” 

“A god is to be merciful and magnanimous.” 

“They do not deserve my mercy.” 

“All this for one human?” 

“I don’t care.” Katsuki presses his forehead against Izuku’s cool one. “He’s dead. The world can go with him.”

Mitsuki sighs. She settles down on Izuku’s other side and looks into Izuku’s placid, calm face. “It’s not like you to get so attached to a human.” 

Katsuki ignores her.

“What will make you come out again?” 

“If he is returned to me.” 

“Gods don’t — and can’t — meddle with death.”

Katsuki gently strokes Izuku’s cheek. As far as he is concerned, the conversation is over. 

Mitsuki sighs again. She adjusts the flowers around Izuku and strokes the curly hair back with a gentle hand.

“His name?”

“Izuku.”

“I see. Fitting, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s beautiful,” Mitsuki smiles. 

“Yes.” 

“What will you do, if he returns to you?”

“Keep him by my side.”

“For as long as he lives?”

“For as long as I live.”

“An eternity?”

“Yes.” 

“Mortals can be cruel and fickle with affections.”

“Not him.” 

Mitsuki hums in response. They sit in silence for another moment.

“If you have nothing more to say, leave me in peace.”

“You love him.”

Katsuki did not deign to give an answer.

“Hades owes me a favour,” Mitsuki murmurs softly. A breeze picks up in the sanctum, rustling the flowers and Izuku’s hair. “Remind him of that when you journey to the Underworld.”

Katsuki raises his head and stares at his mother. His cold, dead heart started pumping again, and heat rushed through his body. 

“It is taboo,” Katsuki says, but he’s only saying. He’s already thinking about the distance to the entrance of the Underworld, about what he would say, how he could get his Izuku back.

“I didn’t think you’d wimp out because of taboo.” 

“No.”

“Then go, son. You can’t wait around if you want him back.”

Gratitude for his mother rises like a wave inside him. But he stows the feeling away, and only nods at his mother. He feels alive again, something he hasn’t felt in a while. 

“I’ll leave immediately.”

“I wish you all the luck, Katsuki.”

“Keep him safe,” he tells his mother, and he leaves for the Underworld’s entrance. 

IX.

“out of not knowable night’s utmost nothing”

“What,” the King of the Underworld says, the shadows bending and twisting around him, darkening around him to create a flair of drama and sharp danger, “is the sun god doing in the Underworld?” 

Katsuki does not like the Underworld. He, the embodiment of the sun, does not enjoy the way the shadows seemed determined to snuff out all light, hissing unhappily at Katsuki’s faint light as they bats at it like angry cats. The cool chill hangs in the air and clings onto Katsuki, as the condemned dead, drawn to a redemptive light, cries and moans and begs and tries to touch Katsuki, for mercy on their wretched souls.

Katsuki holds his robes tighter to himself. He raises his head to meet the glittering yellow eyes of the Underworld King, like predators in the dark. Tokoyami, his true name is, but no one dares speak it aloud for fear it may summon Death to them.

Silly mortals and their superstitions. Death may be Tokoyami’s sister, but she is part of the natural cycle of the world, as old as the Fates. There is no denying or erasing her, for she is as old as time, and even gods that ruled over life may not deny Death her due.

But Katsuki is trying now. He presses forward, holding onto the memory of Izuku, alive and vibrant and holding the world together to give him strength. It bolsters him.

“Tokoyami-sama, it is an honour to have your audience."

Tokoyami seems amused, but his placid face betrays little. 

“I have heard you refuse to show your face to the mortals but what a shock, to see the missing sun god here, in the Underworld.”

“I came to claim a soul.”

“Whose?”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

“Ah, the mortal who has captured the attentions of the sun god…”

“My mother reminds you,” Katsuki says, cutting to the haste and glancing purposefully at the nymph sitting on a smaller throne decorated in vines and flowers beside Tokoyami, “of her aid to you when you needed it, when no one else would take your side.” Izuku, Katsuki thinks, his heart squeezing in his chest, he wants to see Izuku again.

Tokoyami looks at his queen, who looks at Katsuki with a face that betrayed nothing.

“I am grateful for Mitsuki-sama’s aid,” Tokoyami says finally, when Tsuyu makes no reply, “but alas… the rules—”

“You know the desire for love,” Katsuki replies, trying to keep his voice even, trying to not let his hope and anxiety overflow, but his voice trembles anyway. “You know the desire to love and be loved in return. You know the anguish of separation. Why do you deny me my love?”

“The rules of the Underworld are absolute. Even I cannot break them so easily, much less allow you to take a soul of a dead person.”

“But you can,” Katsuki presses, “let me see him again.” Katsuki takes a deep breath he does not feel, and swallows around the lump in his throat. “He is my sun, my moon. All my stars.” He hastens to add, “just like how your queen is to you.”

“But she did not die.”

“But he does not belong here, nor to Death, he belongs by my side.” Katsuki bows his head, an image of deference. “Please return him to me.”

Both the King and Queen look utterly shocked and surprised: Katsuki, the proud and unwavering god of the sun, never bowed his head to anyone, except to the King of the Heavens. This action spoke volumes of his desire and the lengths he would go for Izuku’s soul, and it would be a lie to say that it is not moving.

“What will you do if he comes back to life and decides to leave you?”

“He won’t.”

“Because you’re a god?”

Katsuki meets Tokoyami’s eyes fearlessly. “Because I know he is waiting for me.”

Tokoyami mulls over his words, while his Queen glides down the steps to the throne to stand in front of Katsuki. “He is fortunate to have met you.”

“I am,” Katsuki pauses. “I am the fortunate one.”

“I can tell your sorrow is genuine,” Tsuyu gives Katsuki a sweet smile, taking his hands, “as your love for him. It has touched me.” She turns to Tokoyami and tells him, “Not many gods are willing take this thorny path to the Underworld for their mortal lover.”

They meet each other’s eyes, and a silent conversation that excluded Katsuki took place. Then Tokoyami spoke. “Very well,” he says, “since I do not forget kindness shown to me and you are true, you may take his soul.” 

Relief floods Katsuki, and he glows brighter in the gloom of the Underworld as he fought not to bolt, to look for his Izuku.

“But,” Tokoyami continues, “it is on one condition.”

“Speak it.”

“You must lead his soul to the light without looking back once. If you do it successfully, when you return to your temple where his body is, he will return to you. If you look back, he shall be trapped in the Underworld forever, never to return.”

“I understand. Thank you,” Katsuki says fervently, and he bows lowly, “I wish you both well.”

With that, Katsuki, the brightest thing in the Underworld, begins his ascend to the higher realm. He forces himself to walk, to walk, to walk, through the darkness and the terror of the dead people, keeping the memory of Izuku in the forefront of his mind, reminding himself he would see him as soon as he reaches back to his temple, that he just has to move onwards so he could see Izuku again. It is that unwavering belief and desire to see Izuku in flesh again that kept him from turning back. 

Then, when he emerges from the Underworld, he, without waiting, or looking back, rushes back to his temple, into the sanctum Izuku was in. 

X.

“yours is the light by which my spirit’s born”

Izuku is sitting up on the bed when Katsuki rushed into the sanctum, the chiffon bed curtains floating in the gentle breeze. He is touching the flowers that surround him with light fingers. Mitsuki is nowhere in sight, and Katsuki takes deliberate, careful steps towards Izuku, afraid that the sight is only his imagination.

“Kacchan?” Izuku mutters, voice hoarse from disuse, turning towards the sound of footsteps. He blinks at Katsuki and smiles, wide and slow. “Hello.”

“Izuku,” Katsuki breathes, stepping even closer before bending onto his knees in front of Izuku and touching his face. “You’re alive.”

Izuku leans into his hands and inhales and exhales deliberately. His warm breath washes over Katsuki’s hot palm. 

“Yes,” he agrees, “I feel alive… but,” he bites his lip, “I… didn’t I die?”

“You did,” Katsuki tells him, stroking his hair as he pulls Izuku closer to hold him. “But you’re alright now.” 

“But how…?” 

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here.” 

“I am here,” Izuku repeats. He then laughs, a little shocked and giddy, and meets Katsuki’s eyes. His eyes are shining, a little wet, glittering with brightness and awe and love, and Katsuki is dazzled, blinded, and wants to look away, but cannot. 

“Izuku,” Katsuki gasps, then pushes him down onto the bed hurriedly, but with gentle hands, and presses their mouths together roughly. He licks into Izuku’s slick, hot mouth, feels his breaths and gasps against his lips, feels Izuku’s body rising under his body. Katsuki’s eyes burns, and his throat is tight.

“Izuku, Izuku, Izuku, Izuku, Izuku…”

“Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, burying his face into Katsuki’s shoulder and hugging him tightly. “You’re glowing.”

Katsuki kisses him, desperate and harsh.

“Kacchan…” Izuku breathes, pinned under Katsuki’s weight, hands roaming Katsuki’s robes. His eyes shift from Katsuki to the chiffon curtains around them, “where are we?”

“My temple.”

“Your… temple?”

“Yes.”

Izuku nods at that, unfazed, unperturbed. Izuku looks around, taking in the white-gold-red furnishings. The room is gilded in gold and in white marble, austere and stern, like the man currently sitting in front of him, hands restless, wondrously running over Izuku’s body. Katsuki, with his upper half bare, precious gold and red necklaces resting on his neck, the way he is glowing faintly, the tips of his hair changing from gold to white to gold again like a dancing flame, his eyes catching fire and shining gold, is bewitching.

“You’re a god,” Izuku whispers, searching Katsuki’s eyes.

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“You already know.”

“The sun,” Izuku says, after a pause, wondrous and reverent. He raises his fingers and hovers it near Katsuki’s face, hesitant. 

Katsuki takes it and presses his hand to his lips. 

“I am only… mortal,” Izuku whispers. “I don’t deserve the sun… much less what you’ve done for me.”

“Are you saying you want to go back down to the humans who killed you?”

“No, no, of course not.”

“Then stay with me.”

Izuku turns his head into Katsuki’s neck, snuffling against his skin. “If that what your heart desires… I will stay.”

“Good,” Katsuki wraps his arms Izuku and holds on.

XI.

“hello, you who made the morning/ and spread it over the fields/ and into the faces of the tulips/ and the nodding morning glories”

The sun rises again, glowing bright and glorious and magnificent. Below, humans thrived.

Izuku had gone with Katsuki when he returned the sun to the sky, and he had looked down at the people beneath them, crying with joy, shouting with ecstasy, celebrating, prostrating on their knees at the first sight of the sun that pushed back the dark that covered the earth for too long. He didn’t say a word, and simply pressed close to Katsuki, watching quietly. He didn’t say anything about Katsuki hiding away from the mortal realm, but that day, after the sun had returned to its rightful place in the sky, he had pulled Katsuki into his chambers and made love to him tenderly, carrying the force of emotion with him in every kiss and every touch.

And then, as the balance of the earth is restored, Izuku adapts to his life in the temple. Katsuki’s heralds and servants crowd around the human and bombard him with questions, and coo over him, and pamper him. They bring him everything he wants and dresses him up in the finest silks and prettiest robes.  

Every morning, Katsuki draws the sun across the sky, impatiently so, because he wanted to return to Izuku’s side as soon as possible. 

This morning, Katsuki finds Izuku climbing onto one of the mango trees, with the ripe yellow fruit weighing down the branches.

His heart jumps to his throat, because since Izuku had died once, Katsuki is made so aware of the fragility of his mortal body, how his throat can be crushed so easily, how his spine can break with a bad, unlucky fall, how his skin is inadequate protection to the harsh world… He gets Izuku down immediately.

“Never do that again,” Katsuki orders, “swear on the River Styx.”

“I just wanted some fruit…” 

“Get a servant to get it for you.”

“And I wanted to climb some trees!”

“You’re not allowed to,” Katsuki snaps, his fingers digging into Izuku’s shoulders, “don’t you dare do it again.” 

“Kacchan,” Izuku huffs, but he catches the look on Katsuki’s face and falters. He touches Katsuki’s cheek and presses closer. “Is there something you want to tell me?” He says gently, leaning their foreheads together. His eyes are the colour of brightest Spring.

“Do you like it here?” Katsuki says instead, tugging Izuku onto his lap.

“Of course I do,” Izuku replies, surprised at the turn of the conversation, “it’s beautiful here, and everyone is so kind to me.”

“Then do you want to stay here forever?”

Izuku pulls back slightly, his surprise heightening. His mouth then twitches into a bright, radiant smile, and he lays his head onto Katsuki’s shoulder. “Of course I do,” he says, “but… my forever is not that long.”

“I can make you immortal.”

The words hung in the humid air, where, for a brief moment, there was only the warm breeze rustling through the foliage surrounding Izuku’s chamber. 

“Kacchan?” Izuku whispers, cupping Katsuki’s cheeks in his palms, “can you say that again?” 

“I can make you immortal.” 

Izuku presses his mouth against Katsuki’s, as if he could swallow his words. 

“You want me to be with you forever?” Izuku mutters, his hands were restless, running all over Katsuki’s pristine robes and body.

“Of course.”

“Really? Really really?”

“I do not lie.” 

Izuku laughs and pushes Katsuki onto the bed, on the fine silk sheets, and crawls over him to kiss him desperately, sliding his tongue into Katsuki’s mouth to lick into the hot cavern of his mouth, nipping on his lips. He hums, sounding giddy, his grin firm on his face and reaching his eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Katsuki asks, as he pushes Izuku onto his back and hovers over him, reversing their positions.

“Of course it’s a yes, Kacchan,” Izuku beams, throwing his arms around Katsuki’s neck and kissing his chin.

“You can’t go back to the mortal realm, you know. You’re stuck with me for eternity.”

“ You are stuck with me for eternity,” Izuku returns, “I’m actually a very normal person, you know… and you’re a god—”

“One has nothing to do with the other,” Katsuki interrupts, then feels himself blush, “I’m only a man when it comes to you.” 

“As I am,” Izuku whispers. 

They shared private smiles, as bright as first light, and there is no greater joy than what they felt in that moment. 

XI.

“in the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities”

Katsuki is helped into an ostentatious robe, white the gold trimmings that glittered and gleamed in the brightness of his chambers. Izuku watches as servants adjust a crown of sun rays that glitters yellow and gold on Katsuki’s fair hair. There is also a gold torque around his neck, the main piece of attention that outshines the other necklaces he had resting on his bare chest. 

Izuku just stares at Katsuki, completely awe-struck, speechless. 

“What’re you daydreaming about?” Katsuki asks Izuku, who blushes to the tips of his ears and shook his head, whirling around.

“Nothing!” He squeaks, and Katsuki just snorts and drags him back with an arm to his waist.

“You’re so red,” Katsuki mutters, against Izuku’s sensitive nape, laughing lowly as Izuku yelps and tries to twist away.

“Kacchan,” whines Izuku, and Katsuki finally lets him go. Izuku smoothes down the matching robe he has on, which, though pure white like Katsuki’s, had fine, green embroidery of flowers and vines climbing all along the hems and the sleeves. He looks resplendent, like a breath of fresh Spring air, as if a flower opening petal by petal under the morning’s rise. 

“Are you nervous?” Katsuki asks, grabbing Izuku back into his embrace and ignoring how he was disrupting the people helping him dress.

“Kacchan, let them dress you!” Izuku chides, but he was grinning, aglow with happiness. 

  Izuku had been bestowed with immortality and youth a week ago, in a ceremony held in Katsuki’s temple, followed by a raucous celebration in which all inhabitants of the temple took part in, but Izuku and Katsuki had retired early to their now shared chambers, making love through the night until Katsuki had to leave when the Moon fell asleep. Izuku was so lovely sleeping by his side, in between his white, mussed sheets that Katsuki found it so incredibly difficult to leave, until his heralds had to beg him to come with them.

“You’re going to see him everyday! For an eternity! Come on!”

“I am,” Katsuki had said, surprised, then a grin spread across his face, “that’s right, I’m going to see him everyday.”

“So let’s go now! Before the humans start panicking!”

“Please!” Kirishima had begged, and Katsuki growled under his breath but let his heralds dress him and throw him into the chariot.

It honestly hadn’t sunk in then, that he would have forever with Izuku, but now, with Izuk standing in front of him, probably rambling or chiding him, absolutely divine, gorgeous, lovely, eyes glinting like emeralds, it hit him. 

“Kacchan, are you listening?” Izuku demands, bringing Katsuki back to the present, as he kisses Izuku’s mouth, brimming with uncontained ecstasy.

“Let’s go,” Katsuki tells Izuku, brushing away the dressers who were fussing over little adjustments, taking Izuku’s small, fragile hand in his as he tugged him towards their ride, which was gleaming golden. Mitsuki had insisted on a celebration of her son’s union with all gods in attendance, and Katsuki had found it a chore to dissuade his mother once she sets her mind on something. Looking at Izuku now, self-consciously smoothing his robes down and tugging at his curls, Katsuki found  that he didn’t mind the pomp and circumstance.

“Are you ready?” Katsuki asks Izuku, as he takes the reins. 

Izuku grins, all sunshine and love.

“Always,” he tells Katsuki. 

Always. Like the sun must always rise everyday, they will be together, always, never to be apart.