Swords and Dragon Horns

Chapter 3

The sun had barely moved before the blond started to regret his decision.

Sharp sticks and rocks stab at his bare foot as he walks. Those were his favorite pair of boots, and now he only has one of them.

He scratches at the dried dirt over his chest and arms, letting it flake off.

The dragon boy's gaze burns into the side of his skull, prodding, irritating.

The blond throws a suspicious glance at him, but it was the wrong choice, considering how the dragon must have taken it as acknowledgment.

"So," the dragon starts, unsure. "My name is Eijirou."

The forest grows thinner the further they travel, systematically so. Every fourth tree is a stump instead. They line up in a grid-like pattern.

Then, red peeks into his peripheral vision. "What is your name?"

"Don't have one."

The air is so silent the blond can almost hear the dragon's brain spin in circles.

"Um. Can you please repeat that?"

"Don't have a name," he grinds out, loathing the coming questions he knew he'd be pelted with when he left home.

"Oh! Do you have a name I may call you for ease?" They meet eyes, and the dragon smiles nervously. "I do not mean to be rude. I do not know very much of your language and culture."

"Not my language."

"Oh! I am sorry. You speak common much better than I do!" He bows awkwardly, back and neck bending with his head up.

The blond glares away. "You can call me Bakugou."

"Bakugou," he tests, the name rolling easily off his tongue. "That is very close to a word in my language. It means..." he trails off, then picks back up with a smile, "great challenge or victory. It is a good word for a name." He tilts his head into the blond's view. "What does Bakugo mean to you?"

The blond kicks a rock with his covered foot and snaps, "None of your business!"

"I am sorry."

"Shut up."

"Okay."

The dragon boy watches him out of the corner of his eye.

The blond glares ahead.

They walk until the sounds of life fade in from the distance. They are lucky the forest, no matter how thin, stretches just enough to give them cover as they grow closer to the village. The blond brings them up behind a house with a sloped straw roof. A clothesline hangs from the wall to a small tree. The clothes hanging from them still look somewhat damp, so whoever hung them wouldn't be back anytime soon.

He waves a hand at the dragon boy for him to stay. Then, he stalks up to the clothesline, scanning the area every few breaths. When the area is clear, he plucks off two long-sleeved shirts, two cowls, and a pair of pants.

Finally, he returns to the boy and tosses the appropriate garments at him. The boy fumbles with them before steadying himself to look them over. The blond rolls his eyes as the dragon sniffs them like an animal.

"Just put them on," the blond gripes as he slips on his stolen shirt and cowl. He raises the hood over his head, covering his distinctive hair.

"Why? I am fine like this." To prove his point, he stretches out his arms and legs.

The blond pointedly keeps his eyes on the dragon's face. "You're naked."

He tilts his head. "Why is that bad?"