Swords and Dragon Horns

Chapter 2

A cool breeze ruffles Katsuki's hair as he gazes at the golden light peeking over the treetops. His legs kick at the open space under him, his hands running along the rough bark of the old beech tree on the outskirts of the village. He takes a swig of water from his waterskin.

Below the sun are the distant blocky shapes of the Endeavoran villages. Surrounding the settlements, the ground is nearly bare. Large flat rectangles of churned-up dirt lay next to them, graveyards of what they used to be. Forests circle the villages, keeping their distance like wounded animals.

To destroy their lands for no reason other than their convenience. Katsuki could not think of another people worse than the Endeavorans.

If they had left the land alone, Katsuki could have marched over there, found himself a dragon, and brought back its horn to save his tribe. So really, this sickness is all their fault.

Absent-mindedly, he opens the small, polished wooden box in his lap and lifts out a string of orange beads. Then he places them around his neck and over his bare chest. Smaller red beads follow, along with blue claw-like stones.

He ties various belts around his waist, and a sheath for a greatsword is attached to a brown leather one. The others he will attach small pouches to after the ceremony.

When the sun emerges, he brushes his bangs up his forehead and descends down the tree to begin the path back to his tribe. He scowls at how his boots kick up dirt as he drags them.

How could he not have a single quest idea?

Every child of any tribe spends the first sixteen years of their life dreaming of their quest. Making plan after plan of how they would prove their worth.

He'd always assumed it would come to him one day. Or someone of great power would whisk him away, like that stupid Deku. If it could happen to someone like him, why shouldn't it happen to someone like Katsuki?

He could be like some in his tribe and let the chief choose for him. But he knows the old hag would make him pick flowers or some other weak task.

When he glances up to find the village entrance in view, he suppresses a grunt of annoyance. Unfortunately, he doesn't have long to pick something.

Ahead of him, twenty or so people crowd around the front steps of the Great Hall. The space they take up is underwhelming.

Above them is the chief. She stands tall, adorned in ornate, lustrous armor with a long deep red cape flowing behind her. Her hands rest one over the other on the hilt of her equally decorated greatsword.

Red eyes land on him, commanding his legs to move. The crowd passes by him in slow motion. Some familiar faces smile at him and give him cheerful thumbs-ups, but their faces are blurred.

He climbs the three or so steps up to the platform in front of the building and turns to face the chief. Closer now, he sees how she leans on the sword for support. Sees the thin sheen of sweat covering her face.

Steeling himself, he bows to her, then faces his tribe. Then she speaks, her voice ringing strong, louder than necessary for a small crowd.

"We are gathered here today, for one of our own is ready to take up his Quirkquest."

His dry tongue passes over the roof of his mouth as he tries to calm the chaotic beating of his heart. Then, when he glances at the chief, he finds her watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"It is times like these when tradition is crucial. No war, storm, nor meer illness may keep us from honoring our ancestors or those who come next." She extends a hand toward him. "We are Fallen Star, and every person that joins our ranks makes us stronger!"