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The first time Katsuki takes him to the stream, it's less than two weeks into Shouto's stay - an unprecedented yet miraculous turn of events. Being rescued in the wildnerness by a barbarian king, well. Shouto never expected that when he set about his wayward travels to new lands. Resolve alone had carved his path ahead. In hindsight, he ought to have been more prepared.
Tucked away in the middle of the lush sprawling jungle, a lush vibrant maze few barbarians dare venture into alone, sits the stream. Shimmering such an impossible shade of vivid aquamarine that it was hard to believe his own eyes at first.
And even by the modest rush of water, the scorching heat and humidity of the air remained relentless. Shouto had found himself stripped down to his undershirt and rolled up trousers - a very unbecoming thing for a Prince to do. Beside him, Katsuki had lent against the mossy rocks entangled in thick roots from trees towering above. His toned arms cushioned his head, eyes quietly searching the stream.
"I come here to think sometimes," Katsuki had offered after a prolonged pause. "The sound of the water anchors me."
And yes, that did sound an awful lot like Katsuki. To find a home in the forces of sound and movement. Katsuki himself is like a fierce ravaging ocean after all. Reeling you in tighter, crashing mercilessly against all your defences until they weather.
"I see," Shouto had breathed, unsure whether he was an unwanted intruder despite being invited along. "Who else knows about this place?"
Glancing up from the rock with an unreadable expression, Katsuki had shrugged. But the action had been wrong, too tense and taut to be believed. His body rigid whilst his face immeasurably relaxed. At the time, Shouto couldn't figure out what - or who - he was supposed to see, a king or the man he has come to not only respect but fiercely adore. He studied the stream instead.
Then, moments later, the words he'll never forget poured out.
"Just you and me."
The gravity of that admission continues to sweep Shouto further up into the beautiful biting current that makes Katsuki so very compelling. The revelation washes over his skin, wringing out the ache of his bones.
"I - it's nice," Shouto had managed to say, barely. His voice clogged up with heavy emotion he couldn't seem to clear. "Thank you for trusting me with this."
Katsuki had grunted in response, but the ghost of a smile haunted the corner of his mouth.
"You gonna sit or what?" he then snapped insistently.
From that point on, it becomes routine. They find the stream before nightfall, a quiet unfurling morning, after a particularly hard council meeting. And now three months later, here they sit again together - for the last time. Because the call of a great destiny bellows out across the earth.
Shouto cannot ignore the persistent press on his heart any longer. He must return home, become who he is meant to be. Face his past to bear his future proudly. To forge a new burgeoning legacy, his own way.
These last few months, Katsuki has taught him so much about what it means to be a ruler, to lead people with searing resilience and strength. If Shouto can inspire just a whisper of the undying loyalty found here in his own kingdom, he would consider that a triumph. No more can he be the missing Prince, the fabled heir to a northern tundra throne.
"Many of our great warriors have volunteered to be your escort home," Katsuki says, voice clipped and shoulders hunched as he stares into the gushing water. Now no longer the modest, gentle stream from before. The recent rains have transformed it into a surging powerful thing.
"I don't need an escort," Shouto replies, albeit stubbornly. He might have wandered into trouble the last time he roamed these lands, but he knows better now. Besides, his swordsmanship is virtually unparalleled. Even Katsuki couldn't get a clean hit on him when they duelled last.
Whipping round to face him, Katsuki scowls. Sunlight pokes through the canopy, hanging like crystals on the surface of the water and settling in those molten eyes.
"Tough. I ain't letting you go alone. Hell, I'd go if-"
Jaw clenched, Katsuki averts his gaze sharply. Sucks in a ragged breath. Of course, he challenged Shouto on the subject of leaving. But through their many heated disputes, he never once asked Shouto to stay. Not because he didn't want it, but because he understood the situation.
Love and duty both require sacrifice. A king knows that better than most.
Reaching into his pocket, Shouto pulls out a pair of gloves. Maroon fabric lined with soft wool imported from the east. Through several generous donations to the local market, Shouto had acquired the materials to make them. Set to work the moment he knew separation was on their horizon.
This isn't the end. No force on earth could dampen the devotion in his heart, utterly devouring in magnitude.
"Here," Shouto starts, passing them over tentatively. "These are for you."
"What am I supposed to do with these?" Katsuki spits through the cage of his teeth.
Despite the sharpness, his voice betrays him. Cleaved open, raw and rasped. His expression pinches, eyes narrowed as he clutches the gloves with trembling hands.
Shuffling closer, Shouto bumps their shoulders together. He strives for something playful, regardless of the burning beneath skin.
"Well," he starts, lips twitching fondly. "You wear them."
For that, Shouto is rewarded with a scathing look. Katsuki barrels into his shoulder, a far harder bump than necessary. But he doesn't move away, lingering as close as he dares get. Melting against the firm line of heat, Shouto watches the water. If only they could stay here forever.
"Not sure if you noticed, but it ain't cold enough to wear gloves here," Katsuki huffs.
Breath hitching, Shouto steels himself. He's mulled this part over in his head countless times. The outcome differs wildly. But the feeling is always the same, enduring and endless. This love is will not be defeated by temporary distance.
"Actually, they're for when you and the council come to visit. For the inevitable peace talks I will be prompting my father to host."
Eyes blown wide in realisation, Katsuki stares fiercely down at the gloves. The tips of his ears burn crimson, a flush spread across his cheekbones. He seems stunned, speechless for once. No brazen, bold remarks left to spew. Just a low, simmering wonder that gleams in crimson eyes.
Pulse fluttering, Shouto continues before he loses his nerve. Voice hushed and low, he places his hands gently over Katsuki's own. Calloused palms turn over, fingers interlock tight. It's magnetising, agonising in the best way. Skin will surely wilt in the absence of this bruising touch.
But this growing bond between them will not.
"Ha!" Katsuki barks, a shaky grin careening over his face. "Guess I'll never be rid of you, huh?"
The bite of the words bring clarity. For this is not a teasing question, this is a quiet desperate plea by the water. A wistful smile blooms across Shouto's mouth, pressed delicately against skin as his heart pledges its unwavering allegiance.
"Never."