One moment, there's the flash of that villain's purple-black quirk—the next, the ground beneath you dissolves into nothing.

Katsuki's hand is still clamped around your wrist. Tight. Bruising. He's shouting something, but his voice sounds miles away, swallowed by the roaring vacuum of whatever tear just swallowed you both whole.

Then you hit solid ground.

Dirt. Stone. The smell of moss and iron and something burning.

You're in a courtyard.

Stone walls rising high around you, battle-scarred and covered in creeping ivy. Torches flicker in iron brackets. Above, the sky is wrong—two moons, one red and one silver, hanging low over a jagged mountain range you've never seen before.

A massive shape shifts in the shadows behind a tower.

Scales. A low, rumbling growl that vibrates through the stones beneath your feet.

A man stands on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wild blonde hair that catches the torchlight like a mane. He wears furs and dark leather, a sword strapped across his back, and his palms glow faintly with the same crackling orange light you've woken up to a hundred mornings before.

Katsuki goes still beside you.

The man on the balcony stares down at you. His eyes trace your face, your figure, the way you're pressed against his other self.

He smirks.