Chapter Text
It’s such a shame,
That you became such an issue,
Oh dear,Johnny I’ll miss you.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way, he hadn’t meant what he said. Izuku actually had taken his advice and killed himself. He didn’t think he really would’ve done it, this was all his fault and there is nothing he can do to bring him back. Izuku was gone now.
Yeah he would wish for Izuku to leave him alone and get lost, but in truth he was afraid of his own weaknesses, that’s why he pushed him away and constantly bullied him. He regretted everything, and he would do anything to bring Izuku back. He wishes he could take back his words too.
He would never again hear his muttering, his laughter, that stupid nickname “Kacchan”, his insightful hero analyses, nor would he ever see those ridiculous bright red shoes, or the beautiful freckles that dotted his cheeks. Izuku was beautiful inside and out, not even he could ignore that, he didn’t deserve any of the harsh treatment he got for being quirk-less, but that was his fault, the only reason all the bullying started was because of him. He’ll never forgive himself, and this will haunt him for the rest of his life.
He has been struggling to eat and sleep ever since Izuku’s death, he knows his parents are worried, his grades have been slipping, he doesn’t hang out with friends anymore, and he looks like complete shit. He has gotten paler with huge bags underneath his eyes. He also doesn’t get angry or raise his voice, even when someone tries to provoke him. Izuku’s death really changed him for the worse.
Katsuki already had a feeling today was gonna be terrible when he stepped through that classroom door, Izuku was sitting at the back of the room hunched over his desk scribbling something into his notebook. Izuku seemed to have felt him staring, and hesitantly looked up at him, smiling nervously.
He glared back at him coldly, then shuffled on over to his desk that was beside Izuku’s and sat down. He could sense Izuku’s eyes fixating on him for some odd reason that he couldn’t comprehend.
Katsuki shifted and met Izuku’s glaze, “What the fuck do you want, Deku?”, he spat harshly.
“Nothing, I just wanted to make sure you were okay Kacchan, that’s all!”.
“Tch, why do you care?”
Izuku stared at him weirdly, taken back by his question, “Because you’re my friend Kacchan.”
“We aren’t friends and never will be, get that through your fucking head, Deku.”
He smiled at him pitifully, “You don’t mean that right?”.
“I do.”
“Oh…okay, Kacchan.”
Katsuki pulled his attention from Izuku towards the classroom window. He sat slouched at his desk, crimson eyes fixed on the window as it began to rain softly, his ash blond hair caught the faint, gray light filtering through the overcast sky. The world outside seemed mute, the vibrant greens of the school grounds dulled by the haze of rain.
His usually sharp expression softened, glaze distant as he watched the view from outside unfold in front of him, lost in thought until he heard the school bell chime loudly into his ears. He let out an audible sigh as he packed up things, and sat up, but as he was about to leave Izuku came to a halt before him.
“Kacchan, are you sure that you’re okay?”, Izuku hesitantly asked, “You barely have spoken all of class”.
“I’m fucking fine, Deku.” He was clearly annoyed, Izuku is always so willing to help others but himself. “Leave me alone.”
Izuku was studying him, face full of concern. He didn’t need his fucking pity or concern. Why couldn’t Izuku see that he didn’t need his help?.
“But Kacc- “.
Both of his friends suddenly appeared beside him, chuckling softly as they interrupted Izuku. “Is that loser pestering you again, Katsuki?”.
He smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Tch, like that nerd could bother me. He’s just wasting his damn breath.”
Izuku frowned at them, mood souring. “I was just concerned about my friend”.
“We have been over this already Deku, we aren’t fucking friends, there is no fucking way I would friends with a pathetic, quirk-less loser like you. He could hear his friends snickering in the background.
“Why are you being so mean Kacchan?”. Izuku cried out, his voice trembling as tears started flowing down his freckled cheeks.
“You wanna know why I hate you so much Deku?”.
Izuku nodded slowly, while whipping his tears with the sleeve of his school uniform.
“I fucking despise you because you’re a infuriating hero wanna be, that thinks he can be something with no quirk. He snarled, eyeing Izuku with nothing but pure hatred “You should just kill your fucking self and save us from the embarrassment, maybe you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life.”
Izuku’s eyes widen and stared at him in disbelief, like he couldn’t just believe what he had heard.
Turning on his heel, he strode toward the classroom door. Just before leaving, he glanced back at Izuku, who stood frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the floor as quiet sobs shook his shoulders.
Katsuki was just about leaving Aldera High, deep in thought, his mind wondering back to Izuku. He hated the way Izuku looked at him, like he had something to prove. Like he was the one who needed saving. He didn’t need his help, he has never needed him, and never will.
It was still raining, it wasn’t harsh or insistent, just enough to cool the air and leave a gentle sheen on everything it touched. It was calming a subtle patter that filled the silence. Rain droplets clung to his umbrella, carrying the scent of damp soil.
He was so deep in his head that he didn’t even notice how quiet things become. Then, something fell in his peripheral vision. A body. His glaze snapped to the ground just in time to see it hit.
The sound was sickening. A dull, wet thud that echoed louder than any explosion he’d ever made. Katsuki froze, his eyes widening in shock as he recognized the lifeless figure lying crumpled in a growing pool of dark red. Then rain began to pour harshly.
“Deku...?”
His voice barely broke through the lump in his throat. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. His brain refused to process what he was seeing. Izuku Midoriya lay face down on the broken ground, blood trickling from his head, seeping into the cracks like veins spreading through stone.
“Deku!” Katsuki’s shout finally tore from his chest, raw and panicked. He stumbled forward, his knees nearly giving out as he dropped to the ground beside him.
“No, no, no, no!” Katsuki growled, flipping Izuku onto his back with trembling hands. His freckled face was slack, pale, streaked with dirt and blood. Katsuki’s eyes darted frantically over him, searching for a sign, any sign that he was still there. But Izuku’s chest wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed.
“Wake up, damn it!” Katsuki’s voice cracked as he grabbed Izuku by the front of his school uniform and shook him. His palms, usually so steady, were slick with blood and shaking uncontrollably. He slammed a fist into the ground beside them, a burst of sparks flaring weakly from his palm.
“You’re not done, Deku. You don’t get to just—” His voice faltered, his throat tightening. He swallowed hard, his vision blurring as the anger, fear, and desperation he’d been holding back came crashing down all at once.
The world around him dissolved into static. All that was left was Izuku’s lifeless body and the crushing realization that Katsuki had been too lost in his own head to stop it.
And now, he might have been too late. This all could have been avoided. Why the fuck did he tell Deku to unalive himself.
Today was the day of Izuku’s funeral. Katsuki sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the black suit laid out in front of him. The crisp white shirt and neatly pressed pants looked foreign against the chaos of his room. Everything felt wrong. The colors, the silence, the reason he had to wear it.
He ran a hand through his messy blond hair, gripping it tightly at the roots as if the pressure might keep his thoughts from spiraling. It didn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the memories from flooding back—the last time he saw Izuku, the stupid, hopeful look in his eyes, and the way Katsuki had brushed him off with a sneer.
“You’re such a damn nerd,” he’d said, not even looking at him.
The words echoed in his mind like a taunt, a reminder of all the things he should’ve said but didn’t.
He shoved the thought aside and forced himself to stand. His legs felt heavy as he crossed the room, grabbing the shirt from the bed and pulling it on. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with the buttons, and he cursed under his breath when they wouldn’t cooperate.
“Get it together,” he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. His chest felt tight, his throat burning with the weight of everything he couldn’t say.
He moved to the mirror, barely able to look at himself as he adjusted the tie around his neck. It felt like a noose, suffocating him with every second. His reflection stared back at him, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize the person he saw.
The usual fire in his eyes was gone, replaced by something hollow, something broken. He looked like a stranger—a kid trying to fit into clothes too big for him, pretending to be okay when he wasn’t.
Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and he slammed his fist into the edge of the dresser, sending a cup of pencils clattering to the floor. The sharp sound cut through the suffocating quiet of the room, but it didn’t help. It didn’t stop the ache in his chest or the sting behind his eyes.
He crouched down, resting his head in his hands. “Why didn’t you say anything, Deku?” he whispered, his voice cracking.
The silence that followed was unbearable, a deafening reminder that there would never be an answer.
After a long moment, Katsuki forced himself to stand again. He slipped on the jacket, the fabric stiff and uncomfortable against his skin. He tugged at the sleeves, his movements sharp and jerky, like he could outrun the crushing weight pressing down on him.
When he was finally dressed, he grabbed the single flower he’d picked out earlier—a small white chrysanthemum. It felt ridiculous in his hand, fragile and meaningless, but it was all he could bring himself to take.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the quiet, empty house around him. His parents had already left for the cemetery. He could’ve gone with them, but he hadn’t been able to face it yet.
With a deep breath, Katsuki stepped outside, the cool air hitting him like a slap to the face. He shoved the flower into his pocket and started walking, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him with each one. He didn’t know what he was going to say when he got there—if he could say anything at all.
All he knew was that he had to go.
Even if he didn’t know how to say goodbye.
The small cemetery was quiet, save for the occasional sniffle or muffled sob. A modest crowd of family, classmates, and teachers had gathered around the freshly dug grave. The air felt heavy, like the weight of everyone’s grief was pressing down on the space.
At the front, a photograph of Izuku Midoriya sat on a stand beside the casket. It was his school picture, the one he always said made him look awkward. But now, that awkward, shy smile was the only thing they had left of him.
Inko Midoriya stood closest to the casket, her hands clutching the edges of a folded white handkerchief. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she stared down at her only child’s final resting place. Teachers from Aldera Junior High lingered nearby, their faces pale and drawn, weighed down by guilt they couldn’t put into words.
He stood at the very back of the group, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the casket. His gaze was fixed on the dirt beneath his feet, but his thoughts were anywhere but grounded. Memories of Izuku kept flashing through his mind—his stupid, bright smile, his relentless determination, his constant murmuring about heroes and dreams.
The school principal stepped forward, his voice trembling as he addressed the crowd. “Izuku Midoriya was a bright, thoughtful young man. He was always eager to help others, always kind, and he had such potential.” His voice cracked, and he adjusted his glasses nervously. “It’s clear to all of us now that he was struggling in ways we didn’t see. For that, we are deeply, deeply sorry.”
Katsuki’s fists clenched tighter in his pockets, his nails digging into his palms. Sorry. Everyone was sorry now. But it was too late for sorry. The words felt hollow, like the silence that had filled the school halls since they found out what Izuku had done.
When the speeches ended, people began stepping forward to place flowers by the grave. One by one, students from their class shuffled past, their eyes red and swollen. Some murmured quiet goodbyes, others said nothing at all. Katsuki stayed where he was, his heart pounding, his throat tight.
He didn’t move until most of the crowd had drifted away, leaving only a few lingering figures. Slowly, he walked toward the grave, his footsteps heavy on the soft ground. The mound of dirt next to the casket seemed impossibly small, impossibly final.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the headstone engraved with Izuku’s name. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe.
“Deku...” The word came out as a whisper, and for once, it wasn’t filled with anger or derision. His voice cracked as he knelt down beside the grave. His hands shook as he placed a single, crumpled flower on the casket along with his All Might card they got together when they were just kids.
“I didn’t mean for things to...” Katsuki’s voice broke, and he swallowed hard, trying to hold himself together. “I didn’t mean for you to...” He trailed off, his head bowing as his fists clenched again.
He wanted to scream, to rage, to punch something, but all he could do was sit there, staring at the ground. “You should’ve told me, you stupid nerd,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
He stayed there long after everyone else had left, his classmates watching him from a distance. The regret and guilt twisted in his chest like a knife, but no amount of words could change what had already happened.
For the first time in his life, Katsuki felt small—smaller than he ever thought possible.