Fates Entwined (A TodoBaku ff) ✔

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Shoto managed to collect himself, holding himself together just enough for him to step away from Bakugou as Midoriya and Aizawa re-entered the room. He kept his eyes down, unable to stop looking at the man who had tried to kill him, who had spoken of him with such disdain that it hurt more than any physical injury could. He tried to pay attention to what the other three were saying, discussing the time of the trial and other things, but he couldn't stay focused long enough to understand coherently. He left the room first, Midoriya following after him, Bakugou and Aizawa watching them leave. 

He didn't have an exact place in mind, but somehow his footsteps led him to the lake. The lake where he met someone he could call a friend, the lake where someone tried to kill him. As he approached, he saw stray specks of blood scattering the wilted grass, looking even more morose as winter took its hold. He sat down by the water, his cloak splaying out around him, and Midoriya joined without saying a word. It was quiet between them for a while, but Shoto could see Midoriya's mouth opening and closing like he had something to say but wasn't sure whether he could.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, turning to look at the man next to him, eyes wide like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. Or maybe he-

"Is something the matter?" Midoriya questioned before repeating himself in a much louder tone. Ah, it was disbelief in his expression. "Shoto! A few days ago someone tried to murder you, and who knows if there are other people like him ready to take their chance?! A few days ago I talked with Kaachan and discovered things I wished I didn't like, I don't know, the fact that he told you he wished you were dead! And then you almost die! Then I heard all of those things that man said, he was screeching and seething and so cruel, and you look like none of that has happened!"

Shoto didn't really know what to say. The first point, an assassination attempt against him, was something he had understood from very early on in his life. Not everybody supported his father, and what better to ruin him than to kill his Crown Prince? The second point he shouldn't be surprised about. Of course Midoriya would have found out about Bakugou's and his argument, not when he had a sense that something had once again shifted between them. He hoped Midoriya had heard the full story, of how they were both attempting to fix things.

And the third point, well, Shoto was no stranger to curses like the ones his assassin threw at him. He heard them whispered about the castle, murmured amongst figures in the shadows in town, snickering at the back of his own mind. He had broken down, succumbed to how weak those words made him feel, but now he had recovered. He was fine, he had to be, he could not help these people if he were anything less.

He didn't know what to say, so he chose to say nothing at all, instead diverting his thoughts to something more important, like the conversation he was overdue to have with Midoriya. The man would surely know lots of information that would aid Bakugou's and his efforts, and since he had delayed preparations enough already, it was important they converse as soon as possible. 

"Shoto," Midoriya spoke after several long moments of silence; this time his voice was quieter, calmer. He sighed loudly, clearly moving on from one topic to another, deciding to hide it away for another time. "How have you and Kaachan been lately? I mean, whilst I was travelling?"

"Neutral, I suppose. I started teaching Kirishima, Mina, Sero and Denki basic combat, Bakugou joined in and it became rather wild so I knocked him out. He woke up, we argued, we both said things or did things we wished we hadn't..." His hand unknowingly came to brush against his chest, the necklace clinking ever so quietly. "But we spoke, came to an agreement, and that's it. Bakugou is trying to be less angry, and I've heard his progress is notable." He thought about Aizawa's words earlier, how he told Shoto of Bakugou's restraint during their attempted meetings, regardless of how short that restraint lasted.