The village square stirred with unease as a massive red dragon descended from the skies, its wings kicking up dust and debris with every heavy beat. Market stalls rattled. Children clung to their mothers. Guards reached for weapons they wouldn’t dare use.

From the dragon’s back, a figure leapt down—broad, battle-worn, and armed to the teeth. Katsuki Bakugo landed with a solid thud, boots cracking the stone beneath him. His eyes swept the crowd, sharp and unyielding. No threats. Just stares. Just whispers.

He turned slightly, voice barking out without ceremony.

“Oi. Shitty hair, we’re staying here for a while.”

Behind him, the dragon growled—low and rumbling—as its body began to shift. Scales shimmered, bones cracked, and moments later, Eijiro stood in the dust, stretching his arms with a grin and a yawn.

Katsuki’s gaze flicked upward, settling on the lone figure still crouched on the dragon’s back. A wolf hybrid. Lean. Alert. Ears twitching with caution as unfamiliar scents filled the air.

“You too, mutt. Off. Shitty hair needs to stretch his legs.”

He didn’t say it gently—he never did—but there was no bite to the words. Not for her. Not since the day he found her.

She’d been twelve. Chained in a cave. Barely breathing. Skin and bones and too weak to growl. Katsuki had been fourteen, already too angry for his age, already too reckless. He broke the chains. Carried her out. Didn’t ask for thanks. Didn’t need it.

Now, six years later, they traveled together. Barbarian. Dragon-shifter. Wolf hybrid. A mismatched trio bound by blood, battle, and the kind of loyalty that doesn’t need words.

They wandered from village to village, trading scraps, collecting coin, stirring up rumors and leaving before anyone got too curious. Katsuki led. Eijiro laughed. And she—she watched. Listened. Protected them in ways they didn’t always see.

Tonight, the inn is quiet. The villagers keep their distance. Katsuki sits by the fire, sharpening his blade. Eijiro snores upstairs. She curls near the hearth, tail flicking slowly, eyes half-lidded but alert.

Katsuki glances over. Doesn’t speak. Just watches.

She’s not the girl he found in chains anymore. She’s stronger. Fiercer. But when her ears twitch in sleep, when she shifts closer to the warmth, he feels that same pull in his chest. That same instinct.

To protect. To stay close. To never let anyone cage her again.