Chapter Text
Eijirou is born during a cold October afternoon with the wind blowing too strong and the sun not bright enough to keep the chill from sinking into the earth.
It was not a perfect situation. On the Bakugou farm, they tried to time all the calves to be born during the spring, but there was a week with a broken fence between the bulls and the heifers and Eijirou’s mother had a knack for slipping out.
But, they were aware of the situation and knew well enough around when Eijirou would be born, so didn’t think too much about it and simply made sure to be vigilant in the coming days just in case he was early.
He was almost exactly on time, only two days after they suspected, on the coldest day of that October so far. He was born in the barn, thankfully, in a pile of soft hay and then…left.
His mother did not come over to inspect him. She did not hold him close in her arms or make any signs of wanting to clean him or be near him at all. He was dropped, still covered in all the blood and slim of birth, and then his mother wandered over to the gate wondering where her lunch was.
Katsuki’s parents made sure he was breathing. Katsuki was there to hear the little newborn calf’s first cries, but even the call of her baby was not enough to draw Eijirou’s mother near, no matter how many times Katsuki’s parents tried to place him down by her side. She simply would not show interest and, after a few more attempts, they knew that if they kept trying it would be dangerous.
The cow hybrid could grow annoyed and try to kick Eijirou, thinking him someone else’s calf trying to cling to her and, beyond that, the longer they waited to clean him, feed him, and get him warm, the worse off his chances of survival.
Katsuki watched all this with wide eyes, his parents speaking back and forth trying to figure out why the poor calf was rejected by his mother, but he wasn’t unconcerned with that matter. He was much more concerned for the calf himself and, given this farm was his birth right and he’d been watching his parents care for their hybrids since he could walk after them, he knew he was more than prepared to take up the task.
“I’ll take him,” he says loud enough to interrupt his parents' quiet back and forth conversation. “Give him to me.”
His mother nearly objects. “Katsuki, this is not–”
His father holds her back. “Mitsuki, it might be good for him.”
Before there can be more conversation, he ducks through the gate with a clean towel in hand and scoops up the little calf that curls up easily in the warmth of his arms, eyes barely open against the afternoon light, but still he looks up at Katsuki and gives a little broken cry. Katsuki is quick to carry him back to their home.
Eijirou is a little small and a little underweight when he is born. Katsuki cleans him in the bathtub with warm water and a gentle hand, rubbing away all the blood and fluid until soft skin and fur is clean. He has black hair like his mother, but red eyes like his father, and the cutest black little nose Katsuki’s ever seen. His ears keep twitching, splashing water all over the tile and Katsuki’s face, but Katsuki doesn’t mind too much, simply grumbles and keeps washing until all the water runs clear.
From there, he wraps him in another clean towel, fresh from the washer, and places him on his bed, listening to the little calf coo and cry while he runs off to go get a bottle prepared. Thankfully, his parents beat him to it, and have it perfectly warmed in the kitchen when he arrives downstairs, so he grabs it to run back.
Katsuki names him Eijirou on the seventh day after he was born, knowing he was going to survive. Katsuki is exhausted from waking up every two hours to feed him, but the calf grows stronger, fatter, and soon he is not in danger. He cries loudly until Katsuki scoops him up in his arms, always near, and cuddles him quiet.
He is spoiled, his father says. He is not meant to be a pet, his mother reminds. But no matter how many times they try to place Eijirou back with his herd– his mother or even a foster who’s also calved late– it is no use. He is ignored entirely by the other hybrids until he’s brought right back to the farm house where Katsuki holds him tight and tells his parents it’s fine, he’ll take care of him if no one else will.
And so he does.
—
His parents only agree if it means Katsuki keeps up with his chores around the farm, and so where Katsuki goes, so does Eijirou.
At first, the little calf is strapped to Katsuki’s chest or back as he goes around the farm, feeding the other cows and bulls, changing water, making sure everyone is happy and well kept. He is but a little baby that only truly sleeps and eats. Chores take longer with how often Katsuki must stop to care for the calf that cries sharp and loud until a bottle is in his mouth, but it all gets done eventually.
But Eijirou grows quickly, as most hybrids do, and soon Katsuki’s issue is not so much keeping up with Eijirou’s constant feeding schedule, but having the little calf learning how to use his own hooves to carry on after Katsuki when he moved too quickly away from him.
Eijirou is Katsuki’s shadow as soon as his feet can keep up. He follows him everywhere with grabby hands and big red eyes taking in every last ounce of the world around him. Katsuki still tries to carry him on his back when he can, but the calf is growing bigger, heavier, and always wiggles wanting to slip free to go explore something else that’s caught his eye, but never ventures too far away from Katsuki’s side.
It gives Katsuki a small reprieve of freedom that didn’t come with having to care for the calf at all hours, but with that freedom for them both also comes a very real and very sudden concern.
The first that comes is that Eijirou is too quiet. He does not mean to sneak around, but his small little hooves barely make noise on the wood of the home and in the grass and dirt there is no a sound as he pads around.
There comes many occasions where Eijirou sneaks up on Katsuki or his parents or, even worse, if they turn their back and he disappears entirely.
The first time it happens and Eijirou is safely found tucked away in Katsuki’s closet hiding in his pile of laundry curled up to take a nap, his mother laughs.
“Now you know what kind of heartache you put us through when you were his age,” she smiles, messing up Katsuki’s hair as he takes the sleeping calf in his arms and transfers him over to his bed.
After that, Katsuki takes his bike out for an afternoon to the small town a few miles away, coming home when the sun is starting to set with an antsy calf that’s cried nearly all day missing him.
“Stop it, you big baby,” he says, taking Eijirou from his father before the calf can fall with how desperately he reaches for him. “I only went to get you some things.”
They settle in the living room while his parents finish up with dinner, the pair sitting on the floor as Eijirou cocks his head back and forth curious as Katsuki brings out a bag.
“Here,” he says, taking out a long strip of woven fabric, bright red to match both their eyes. “I got you a collar. It has your name on it and mine just in case you ever get lost.” He’s already got a tag in his ear indicating the farm he belongs to, but Katsuki felt that was so impersonal and wanted to make sure he had something of his own that traced back to him as well.
He clasps the collar around Eijirou’s neck, tightening it just a little and still the thing is too big for how small Eijirou is. It hangs around his throat looking clumsy and adorable on him. Katsuki almost laughs.
“And here, one more thing.” He brings out the last of his shopping, presenting it in his hand to the calf. “Ta-da. It’s a bell, so I’ll always know where you are.” It is bright and shiny new, a soft gold that jingles softly with every little shake. Eijirou’s eyes widen as Katsuki attaches it to the front, the calf in awe as it softly chimes with every sway.
Katsuki smiles down at him. “Perfect.”
Eijirou looks up, his ears flickering, and smiles right back.
—
“Momma,” Eijirou calls. It’s late morning which means Katsuki is still plenty busy with his chores. Eijirou follows after him, as he always does, and when Katsuki stops he stops, sitting down in the grass to pluck out the long strands instead of eating it, staring off at the herd a small distance away separated by the fence. “Why don’t you feed me?”
“Feed you?” Katsuki looks up from where he’s scrubbing one of the water tubs. “You get fed plenty, Eiji, you’re not tricking me into a second breakfast again.”
Eijirou looks back at him with a heavy pout, his chubby cheeks only making it more pronounced and showing that he certainly doesn’t need a second breakfast even if he asks nicely– he’s still small and cute, he hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet. “Not that , mommy,” he huffs, looking back to the other hybrids. “Like them.”
He points and Katsuki follows the line of his hand to a cow resting under the shade of a tree with both arms full of newborns, each of them quietly drinking from her breasts, little tails flicking happily behind them as they eat.
For a second, Katsuki doesn’t quite understand, but then he realizes what Eijirou means by feeding him like that . Eijirou has only ever been bottle fed for obvious reasons and just recently started shifting to solid foods while trying to be weaned off of milk, much to his displeasure. Katsuki’s never fed him like a true mother simply because he couldn't.
He lets out a sigh, rolling his eyes as he turns back to his cleaning. “I’m not built like that, Eijirou. I’m not able to feed you like that.”
Again, the little calf huffs, plucking more grass in his frustration. “But why not?”
Katsuki knows this conversation isn’t going to turn out to be productive at all, but he simmers down his irritation and reminds himself Eijirou is still very new to the world and just asking questions to figure things out. His own mother has had to teach him a lot too.
“I don’t produce milk,” he says, trying his hardest to put it as simply as possible, so the young hybrid might be satisfied.
By the sound of yet another huff, Katsuki doubts it, but Eijirou stays silent after that, simply watching the herd as Katsuki cleans and then being as quick as possible to follow after him when he finishes and moves on to the next task.
—
That evening, Eijirou is curled up against Katsuki’s side on his bed, thumb stuck between his lips as he sucks and gnaws while Katsuki slowly reads through a picture book. It’s an old one that had been kept to grow dusty in the attic with a lot of Katsuki’s other childhood toys and keepsakes that his parents refused to throw away.
Eventually, Katsuki would like to teach Eijirou how to read and write, thinking it would be good for him, though wondering if it would only make him feel more isolated from the other hybrids. He tries to not think too hard, how alone Eijirou might feel with the herd not recognizing him as one of their own, but so far the issue hasn’t come up. Eijirou seems content and Katsuki won’t press it.
The calf is wrapped up in a big blanket, his ears flopping out at the side of his head as he listens to the story. He’s just come out of the bath having gotten dirty playing in a little mud puddle outside right before dinner. Katsuki had to feed him on the porch before scooping him up to carry him upstairs, lest his mother complain about mud being tracked all through the house.
Eijirou hated baths, but the tragedy of being scrubbed down was made a little better knowing Katsuki would let him come up onto his bed to cuddle and read him a story before lights out.
Katsuki was so warm against him, with one arm wrapped around him to keep him nice and close, propped up together with pillows waiting for Eijirou’s hair and fur to dry.
Tonight, he’s only half listening to the story, words all jumbled up in his head and pictures just little pops of color as his eyes keep darting back and forth from the book’s page to his momma and then slowly moving between the two before stopping on that path, distracted once more.
It wasn’t fair, he thought, staring at his mother’s chest. His shirt is tight across his chest, the sleeves still rolled up from giving Eijirou a bath. It was cut low on him, and with the way they were laying right now, the swell of his chest was even more pronounced.
They weren’t as big as the other cows on the farm, but Eijirou figured they would be plenty big enough to feed him a little– at least once a day, especially know that he was starting to become a big bull and have to eat real food, though he still wasn’t entirely sold on that.
Even if Katsuki said he couldn’t, Eijirou wondered if he was just saying that so they wouldn’t have to try. And he was curious. And hungry. Dinner was hours ago now.
“Momma,” he asks, looking up with his big red eyes. “Is there dessert tonight?”
Katsuki pauses in his reading. “Dessert? What makes you think–”
Eijirou flicks his ears, pushes out his lip, and stares up a little harder, a little wider. “Please?”
It takes roughly thirty seconds. Katsuki isn’t as tough as he looks. He closes the book. “Brat.”
Before Eijirou can grab for his shirt or his chest just to see, just to test, Katsuki is standing up and leaving the bedroom with a little ‘wait here’ that leaves Eijirou only pouting harder as he does as he’s told. He comes back a few minutes later with a bowl of frozen berries and a bottle that Eijirou grabs for, but is denied as Katsuki crawls back into the bed to get situated.
“Berries first, then you can have your milk.”
With one more ‘ humph! ’ just to make sure his momma knows exactly how he feels, he settles back along Katsuki’s side and grabs for the bowl of fruit, only a little annoyed with having to chew, but the cold icy berries soothe his sharp little teeth and aching gums.
They snuggle together as Katsuki picks up the book once more to continue reading, stealing a strawberry or two as he goes, nudging the bottle into Eijirou’s hands as soon as the fruit bowl is all empty.
The little calf falls asleep like that, listening to his momma read him a story while nursing the bottle, still sucking lightly as he drifts off.
—
He wakes in the middle of the night, stomach grumbling. He’s not in Katsuki’s bed anymore, but his own, comfortably curled up in a nice little cushioned bed on the floor, covered with blankets and piled high with pillows that smell like his momma. He whines for a few minutes, tossing and turning, before rubbing his eyes awake.
“Momma,” he calls. “Mommy…’m hungry.”
Eijirou looks up to the bed where Katsuki sleeps, the teen not stirring at all.
“Momma…” Eijirou huffs. Katsuki has always been a heavier sleeper. He’d wake up to Eijirou’s cries or his alarm clock, but not much else, and Eijirou knows he needs to be a proper bull and not cry, but his stomach rumbles.
So, he doesn’t cry. He stands on wobbly feet and moves up to drag himself onto the bed, moving up to cuddle next to Katsuki.
“Momma? Momma…” He speaks softly, not wanting to startle Katsuki or make him angry, though he figures he would be a little annoyed at being woken up in the middle of the night for a simple snack.
He thinks, for just a second, maybe he could sneak downstairs and find some more fruit or if there’s milk in the fridge or, and Eijirou does not think this easily, some vegetables he could reach in the drawers. He still didn’t like vegetables, but maybe if he did it all himself and ate one or two his momma would be happy about it.
But the kitchen was so, so, far away and the stairs were so big and long and the house was so dark. He’d never been in the dark all alone before and, even with his stomach growling, he didn’t want to see what it was all about right now.
So, Eijirou might have to suffer. But, he’s not a baby anymore. He can take care of himself!
He chews at his lip and fiddles with his bell, looking back at his sleeping momma, still hungry, but knows he could figure it out himself if he just…
Ah!
Eijirou is very lucky Katsuki is such a heavy sleeper as he wiggles his way under Katsuki’s shirt until he gets to his goal.
His chest rises and falls softly with every breath he takes, slow and steady. It’s plush and soft and round. Eijirou has to hunt just a little bit to find what he’s looking for, but when he does it’s easy to latch on, curling to get comfortable, and it all just…feels right.
Katsuki smells nice, smells like clean sheets and hay and that orange smelling soap he puts in his hair. He tastes like salt, but his skin is smooth and his nipple pebbles easily under Eijirou’s mouth, making sure to be extra careful of his teeth as he starts to suck.
It’s a minute or so later when nothing happens, there is no milk that comes out, and even if Eijirou is sure he’s doing it right, he can’t quite remember or care to remember what his momma had told him earlier in the day. Instead, he keeps sucking, keeps trying to draw milk from Katsuki’s chest, and the act of doing so is so soothing, so natural, that he forgets about the ache in his stomach and soon his eyes are closing once again, falling back into a peaceful slumber, still attached and still perfectly content to stay that way.