Divine Intervention
written for My Hero Pantheon,
​a My Hero Academia Mythology AU
Kaminari had always been emotionally charged. He was quick to fall in love, quick to anger, and quick to take action, at least in matters concerning the heart. As the Son of Eros, his recklessness wasn't surprising. Impulse, passion, desire-- it was in his blood. Kaminari had always let his heart lead; and more often than not, that was what got him into trouble.
But Kaminari was favoured by the Gods, and he had been blessed with a group of divine friends who, for better or worse, just couldn't leave him alone. Or rather, Kaminari wouldn't allow them to leave him alone.
Kirishima sighed as Kaminari dragged him through the trees, ducking under branches and flying over roots.
"Kaminari, would you slow down? What's your hurry anyway?"
"Can't let her get away," Kaminari mumbled, expression unhinged and barely coherent.
Heracle's fire-headed son should have been used to Kaminari's antics. Always rushing headlong into situations only Heaven knows how ludicrous: Fixing unhappy unions from misfired arrows, protecting panicked citizens from entirely accidental-- but, nonetheless, holy-- arsons, curbing the wrath of Might from that one time Kaminari got piss-drunk and bred his own personal harem. Kirishima thought Kaminari must have broken every single commandment written in the Book of Gods by now. It was a miracle Aizawa hadn't already ferried him to the underworld.
"Just so you know, I am not inciting any weak-ass, domestic wars just cuz you messed up your aim again," Bakugou grounded out from atop his flaming spear, hurtling through the air beside them.
Kirishima smiled. As the son of Ares, God of War, Bakugou's temper was as frictioned as ever.
"It's okay, Bakugou. I counted his arrows. He's still got 3. I don't think Father All-Mighty is gonna be lifting his ban anytime soon."
Bakugou scoffed.
"What ban? Bastard should have confiscated his entire quiver for all the stunts this idiot's pulled. Just taking away his regeneration, old man's too soft."
Without warning, Kaminari halted, causing Kirishima to ram into him, almost knocking the frenzied blond out of the tree he had stopped on. Bakugou's reflexes were faster, immediately dropping into a crouch between them.
"What is it? Why'd you stop?" Bakugou asked, fingers already grasping his spear, ready to skewer who or whatever Kaminari had sensed.
"There. Look," Kaminari whispered, almost breathless.
Bakugou and Kirishima looked to where Kaminari was pointing, only to find a dark-haired mortal sitting under the massive oak they were crowded on.
"A human?" Bakugou's tone rose in disgust. "You wrangeld our asses all the way out here for a human?"
"Only the most beautiful human I'd ever laid eyes on." Kaminari sighed, dreamily. "Look at her. Skin soft as snow. Hair darker than the sea at night. Eyes twinkling with as many secrets as there are stars in the sky."
Kirishima hesitated before exchanging a look with Bakugou. Kaminari fell fast, hard, and often enough that his friends could chart his love patterns with frightening accuracy. Waxing bad poetics just happened to be the first telling sign.
"Wasn't that what you said about that nameless princess a few centuries ago?" Kirishima prodded, a feeble attempt to prompt Kaminari into seeing reason.
"Yeah, but that was different." Kaminari rustled his wings, waving off what Kirishima was trying to insinuate. "We weren't meant to be. But her." Kaminari nodded towards the quiet girl and involuntarily found his posture melting like the grin on his face. "We're meant to be. I just know it."
Bakugou didn't bother hiding the inhuman growl festering in his throat. Groundless prophecies. The second damned sign.
"You don't know shit. Come on, idiot, you're wasting our time. We're going home." Bakugou dropped his spear, already mounting a foot.
"I think I'm going to go talk to her," Kaminari stated boldly, eyes never once leaving the mortal's form.
"What?!" Bakugou screamed.
"Now, Kaminari, let's not be rash," Kirishima said at the same time.
But Kaminari had stopped listening. He had wanted to ask his friends for advice on how to woo said girl, but so far, their suggestions hadn't been very helpful, let alone positive.
Before anyone could protest, Kaminari leapt down from the tree, shimmering as he dispelled the warding cloak around him.
His friends stifled a groan. Reckless abandon. The third and final sign. The point of no return. Whatever Kaminari was going to do next couldn't be chartered. He was working on raw instinct. Impulse, passion, desire-- it was in his blood. And, for a fool, that was a dangerous combination.
"What if he burns down the Parthenon again?" Kirishima asked, unable to hide his concern.
Bakugou rolled his eyes as he turned to leave.
"Not my fucking problem. Dumbass is going to get himself banished one of these days, and I damn hell won't be held responsible."
​
Jirou sighed, scratching the side of her head with her pen. The sloping roof of the Parthenon poked out from above the treeline. But it just wasn't right. The inspiration wasn't flowing. Maybe she was too far from the building, but any closer, and she wouldn't be able to hear herself think above the clamouring tourists.
"Hey."
Jirou startled, whipping her head up and slamming her journal shut on reflex. She often lost herself when composing, but, somehow, this felt different. If she didn't know any better, she'd say the stranger materialized out of thin air.
Even more strange, still, was the get up he wore.
Jirou took in the stranger's flimsy toga and twine-tied sandals; a large ornate bow strung behind his back, and a small satchel of arrows hung loosely by his hips. Sunlight glinted off his golden armbands painting fractured stars around them.
His outfit reminded Jirou of a production poster she'd seen back in town, and she vaguely wondered if the stranger was part of that new acting troupe: UA Olympus.
"Hey," Jirou nodded. She didn't normally talk to strangers, but something about him made her offer her faith. "Nice costume. Cupid, right?"
"No, Eros. Well, son of Eros. If you're looking for Cupid, Aoyama's in Rome."
Jirou frowned, unfamiliar with the name, but decided it must have been one of his co-stars.
"Well, Eros, it seems you're missing your wings. Let me guess, you pulled an Icarus and flew too close to the sun?"
Kaminari frowned. Icarus? Did she mean that failed experiment Hatsume Mei had invented and ended up bawling for days over because it had drowned in the sea?
Kaminari didn't see the resemblance.
"What do you mean? My wings are right--" Kaminari stretched his wings out then stopped.
"Oh."
Right. Mortals couldn't see celestial wings. Kaminari felt his heart sink. His wings were magnificent. He would spend hours a day grooming them. And he was so sure the girl before him would've fallen head over heels, without arrows, if she could only see them.
"Trust me, I've got wings. They'd blind you stupid."
"Oh, really?" Jirou countered. "Stupid enough to see the future?"
Kaminari paused before his eyes lit up in understanding.
"Ah, you're talking about Tiresias, the prophet. Nice. But you've got the story wrong. Night Eye's not blind. He's just very nearsighted."
"Night Eye?"
"Uhhh, it's a nickname," Kaminari said quickly. He forgot the language of the Gods didn't translate well into human speech, true names included.
Jirou hummed. "Is that so? Wasn't mentioned in any of my textbooks... Unless you came up with it on your own?"
"Yes!" Kaminari pointed at her. "Yes, it's my own." He let out a silent breath before scratching the back of his head. "Boy, for a mortal, you sure know a lot about the legends."
Jirou smiled sheepishly. She didn't bother questioning his odd phrasing. It was more than evident, given the way he dressed, that all the world was his stage.
"I'm a history major. I wrote my entire thesis on Greek mythology. How's that for mortal?"
Kaminari raised an eyebrow at that.
"Really?" He nodded to the guitar behind her. "I thought for sure you studied music."
Something dark suddenly passed over Jirou's features.
"I did," Jirou mumbled. "But I stopped."
"Why?"
She sighed. It wasn't something she wanted to discuss with a stranger, but the costume-clad actor looked so earnest, Jirou couldn't help but confess.
"Because, unlike you, not everyone gets a lucky break."
Kaminari didn't understand her words, but the broken look on her face? The lament. The sorrow. The heartbreak. He had seen it too many times on the faces of those whose hearts he'd meant to pierce but missed. The billions of surrendered opportunities and lost dreams.
Kaminari would have given anything to fix all the past lives he'd shattered. But the Fates moved in one direction. And Kaminari knew better than anyone that sometimes there was only one chance. One opening. One shot. One arrow. And he couldn't afford to miss.
He couldn't afford to miss.
"Play something for me," Kaminari said, suddenly.
"What? No!"
"Why not? You were playing just fine a while ago."
"Wha-- How..." Jirou trailed off then narrowed her eyes. "You were spying on me?!"
Kaminari waved an arm, dismissively.
"You can't call it spying when you're the one who stumbled onto holy grounds."
Jirou wanted to call the deranged actor out for his lies but stopped. The Parthenon sat on land that was bone-baked and sun-scarred, not a drop of water in sight. Yet the clearing Jirou had ventured into was somehow teeming with forest life.
Holy grounds. As crazy as it seemed, maybe the stranger had a point.
Jirou's moment of hesitance gave Kaminari the opening he needed.
"My land, my rules. Now, play."
Jirou knew the man was chalking nonsense. Did he actually think he was a God? Yet, as absurd and inexplicable as it was, Jirou found herself pouring her sins to him once again.
"I... I can't play for others. I'm not even supposed to play for myself. I promised..." Jirou hesitated. "I promised to give up music."
Kaminari stared at her like she had grown three heads.
"That's stupid. Why would you give up on something you so clearly love?"
Jirou sighed. The anxieties she carried... it wasn't something he would understand. Not when he readily overflowed with the very passion she feared.
"Cause if I don't stop, it'll consume me. It'll burn me until there's nothing left to burn."
Kaminari knew that description. Knew it like his own heartbeat. Impulse, passion, desire-- it was in his blood. He'd burn hotter than the Sun if it meant attaining what he wanted. Because desire was worth it. Love was worth it. And he vowed to show her that.
Jirou didn't know how, but the guitar was suddenly in her hands.
"Play." Kaminari's voice was ethereal. "It won't burn you. I promise."
Divine, enchanted-- like the call of a siren. And Jirou knew she had to obey.
So she did.
Hesitantly, then thoroughly-- she played.
And it was magic.
Maybe it was because they really were situated on blessed lands. Or maybe it was because partway through the stranger had pulled out an old lyre and started strumming along. Or maybe it was because all of nature suddenly went eerily silent-- the wind, the animals, the trees-- almost like the world itself was bewitched by their symphony.
It was terrifying and thrilling and intoxicating, but Jirou found she couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop. So what if the fire consumed her? Desire may have burned hot enough to scar, but in this moment, she burned infinitely brighter.
Kaminari watched the way Jirou glowed.
"Don't ever stop chasing what you love," he whispered.
Kaminari wasn't sure if the dark-haired beauty had heard him, but he certainly didn't miss the way her smile grew. She burned fiercer than hellfire, and Kaminari knew then he'd never stop. He'd chase her to the ends of the Earth if he had to.
Impulse, passion, desire-- it was in his blood.
And the way it thrummed? Kaminari knew she was worth it.
​