A Boy and His Dragon.

Ⅻ

Katsuki walked into the bathroom, running the bath for Izuku. His dorm was one of the largest, other than Aizawa's and Yaoyorozu's, Katsuki's was the second largest. He also got a large bathroom.

A large glass shower with an overhead rainfall showerhead that also had LED's built-in - Katsuki bought that thing when he claimed the room, and he doesn't regret it - and a large bath. Katsuki also has double sink counters and a lot of counter space.

Running the bath and adding the large bristle mats on the bottom and sides for Izuku to scrub himself against, he turned the water to warm. A small pinch of bourbon-strawberry and vanilla bath salt was thrown in there, and it was good to go.

Katsuki also turned on the shower, the bathroom illuminating a soft hue of red, the LED's under the counter matching the color, turning the same red from their previous white. The water splashed on the marble tile flooring, the steam rising from the hot water. Izuku slinked into his bath, the dirt and debris already dirtying the tub water.

Katsuki had a drain strainer to catch all the nasty shit that would be in Izuku's fur so he doesn't ruin the pipes. The bourbon-strawberry and vanilla bath salts smell heavenly to him, already dipping his body and submerging himself fully into the water, his eyes opening, a protective see-through eyelid covering his eyes.

It was similar to an alligator and kept his eyes protected as he soaked his fur, rubbing up against the bristled mats on the sides and bottom of the tub, loose coat, debris, and dirt cleaned off.

Izuku's head popped out of the darkening water, looking to see Katsuki stripped and stepping into the shower, his v-line and muscles on full display for Izuku. Izuku would like to say he lets Katsuki have his privacy, and respects his boundaries, and doesn't peek, but dear god.

He may have peeked a little...

After the bath, Izuku slinked out of the tub, dripping wet before he started to clean himself like a cat. His tongue bristled once again, getting all of the fur and leftover debris off. Katsuki watched, seeing Izuku's coat come off more than often, knowing what was happening.

Izuku was going to shed soon, and dear god, Katsuki hated when he shed. He basically shed his ENTIRE coat, all of his furs, even on his muzzle! And then he was left with scales only, and then he'd shed his scales and have new fur and scales under there!

It was terrible! Izuku usually sheds in a four-foot size, and do you know how much fucking hair comes off of a four-foot dragon, not including the tail?! A lot! You could knit TWO Izuku's with all that hair. And his scales are the worst part; Izuku is usually angry and uncomfortable due to his scales' shedding, but he never snaps at Katsuki.

He may growl lightly but still keeps his cool. Katsuki allows him to soak in warm baths to loosen up the scales' before he sheds. The scales' are pretty easy to clean since they come off in bunches, like little individual coins. They come off in small piles and are so much easier to clean than fucking DRAGON HAIR.

But for Katsuki, it's fine since Izuku only sheds once or twice a year, usually in the summer and winter months. But now, he has to deal with Izuku's pre-shed before it goes full throttle, and he'll just drop his hair every second, everywhere. Great. He's going to have fucking dragon hair in his bedding.

Whoop-de-fucking-do.

Get this poor man a drink - preferably a monster.

------------------------

Private chat between Traitor 1 & Shigaraki

villain
it didn't work.
read.

------------------------

Somewhere across town and in a shabby, run-down bar, totally not creepy, a man sits, his glaring red eyes burn into his phone screen. 'It didn't work.' the text read. It didn't work. How the fuck did it not work?! It was a full-proof plan - okay, he admits he wouldn't know if the drug would work, but if it didn't, they'd find an alternative - and he was pissed! Stupid brats, not knowing how to handle poison correctly! His foot starts to tap faster, his thigh bouncing as he growls, forcing himself not to disintegrate the phone.

Kurogiri would take his switch away if he decayed another phone this month. Shigaraki hissed, setting his phone down as he scratched at his cracked neck, clawing at the dry skin around his neck, his clipped nails digging into the almost gill-like wounds in his neck. Flakes of pale, dry skin torn away by Shigaraki's claws, crumbling as his nails dug deeper into the gill-like wounds, breathing rapid and raspy. Small, jewel-like beads of crimson blood were drawn out to the surface; the pearl-shaped blood droplet burst and filled in the slim and crusty wound on his neck.

The blood filling up the gill - or that's what everyone says they look like, fish gills - wound on his neck, more pricks of blood bubbling at the surface, filling the small rows of gill-like wounds he has on his neck, breathing angrily. It was supposed to work! It's not fair; they're cheating, cheating, cheating! It was supposed to work. The plan where they'd pump the damned overgrown lizard full of TRIGGER, he'd go berserk, maybe injure or kill a kid, deem him dangerous enough to lock away, and Shigaraki would snatch him!

He'd forcefully break the contract with the blond and form a contract with the damned thing! He'd make it break and made it his own glorified Nomu! He also wondered what quirk would come with having that familiar. Curse the stupid plan for not working! Curse it, curse it all to hell! He wanted to be powerful with that overgrown lizard; he knew what it was! He knew the things' origin. It was the one thing he had over those stupid hero brats.

It was like a seed, waiting to be planted, and it'd make a beautiful blooming, thriving garden of doom, trust issues, and lies. He'd wreck the heroes, but it didn't work! Shigaraki's hand dropped, blood seeping from the gilled wounds, deranged red eyes vibrated, a grin splitting his face as he thought of a new idea. Yes, yes! This would be perfect! It'd be the ideal plan to get rid of the brat and get his new familiar, yes! All he needs is an opportunity and an event. The sports festival was far too risky, the stadiums filled with pro heroes with powerful quirks and his small league?

Yeah, he may be a man-child and tantrum-prone, but he wasn't fucking stupid. That'd be basically the equivalent to suicide. He'd be captured before he could utter a damn word. For now, he'd lay low, tell his traitors to lay low as well, and get him information. Real information. He needed something big, and he'd get it.

He always gets it.

"You'll be mine, oh yes, you will,"