SOULBOUND (MHA fanfiction)

Prologue

Katsuki lay weakly on the thin sheet, his body wracked by violent coughs. His spiky blonde hair was matted, propped up by a makeshift pillow of ox pelt and bundled clothes. A hand, gentle but firm, pressed against his burning forehead. He slapped it away with what little strength he had left.

"I'm fine," he rasped, his voice rough as gravel. Another cough tore through him, and when he pulled his sleeve away, a fresh splatter of blood stained the dark fabric. "Damn it," he hissed under his breath.

"You're burning up, Kacchan. The medicine isn't working," Izuku said quietly, concern etching lines into his face. He wrung out a cloth dipped in cool river water and gently laid it across Katsuki's forehead.

Katsuki's hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Izuku's scarf, his grip weak but his eyes still burning with defiance. "Don't you dare tell Liora," he growled, but the words dissolved into another fit of coughing. Izuku quickly set a warm clay cup to Katsuki's lips, helping him sit up enough to sip the herbal tea.

The tea slid down Katsuki's throat, easing the ache in his chest, if only for a moment. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

Izuku's hand hovered over Katsuki's chest, a soft green glow radiating from his fingers. "Your soul energy... it's fading, Kacchan. That last fight—it took more out of you than we thought."

Katsuki clenched his fists, the anger boiling beneath his skin not enough to mask the truth. He could feel it too—the slow, creeping emptiness where his strength had once been.

"Shut up, nerd," he muttered, but there was no fire behind the words.

Izuku glanced out of the makeshift tent, worry etched into every line of his face. "If this continues..." He didn't finish. The weight of the unspoken words hung heavy between them. Katsuki didn't need to hear it. He knew.

A rustle from outside, faint but distinct, drew their attention. Katsuki stiffened, and for a moment, the old fire sparked in his eyes. Izuku turned toward the entrance, his face paling slightly as the tent flap stirred.

A woman with silver-white hair stepped into the tent—Liora, her white robes billowing like the remnants of a storm caught in the breeze. A woven basket hung from her shoulder, filled with herbs and glass vials clinking softly together. Her eyes, fierce and burning like twin embers, fell first on Izuku and then shifted to Katsuki, lying pale and feverish on the makeshift bed.

"Wolf," she whispered, the name escaping her lips like a prayer. Kneeling beside him, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the searing heat beneath his skin. She snatched a clean cloth from the basket and dabbed away the sweat beading on his brow. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was low, edged with a mixture of hurt and reproach.

Katsuki turned his face away, his jaw tightening. "I don't need you worrying about me," he muttered, the defiance in his tone barely concealing the tremor of pain beneath it.

Liora's expression hardened, a quiet resolve settling over her features. Without a word, she shifted closer, her robes pooling around her as she sat beside him. She unfolded a shawl across her lap, patting it gently. "Come here," she murmured, her voice softening as she beckoned him. "Rest your head, Katsuki."

He hesitated, glancing up at her from beneath heavy eyelids, but when Izuku stepped in to help, he relented. With a grunt, Katsuki eased himself onto her lap, the strain etched into his features melting away as his head sank into the warmth of her thighs. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, cool against his feverish skin, and he let out a low sigh, the tension ebbing from his body.

"Your hands feel good, Ghost," he admitted, calling Liora by her nickname, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

She managed a small smile in return, though her heart ached at the sight of him so weakened. "Good," she said, her voice barely more than a breath. "Rest well, my Wolf."