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Day One — Uraraka
It always started the same way.
The city would burn in bruised orange, soft smoke curling from chimneys and alleys, the air too quiet for a world still pretending it was whole. Katsuki Bakugou went to the rooftop because he didn’t know where else to go. Not because he wanted to die.
Not yet.
He didn’t come with a plan. He just came with heavy hands and heavier thoughts, and on that day, he untied his boots and left them at the edge like a dare.
Then—he saw her.
“Oi!” His voice tore through the hush like broken glass. The figure turned, startled. Braided hair, clenched fists, a silhouette that looked too steady to truly be fine.
Uraraka.
She stood inches from the ledge, her back half-facing the drop. The toes of her school shoes peeked over the concrete, just enough to worry him. Just enough to scream almost.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he snapped, voice louder than he intended. “You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”
She blinked at him, like she'd only just realized where she was. “I—I wasn’t... I mean, I didn’t—” Her lip trembled. “Never mind.”
She stepped back. One shuffle. Just enough to be safe. But her hands hadn’t unclenched.
She sat beside him. Not too close. Just enough to be seen.
“He said I was a distraction,” she said after a while. “Said I’d never be a real hero. That I was deadweight.”
Bakugou didn’t ask who. He didn’t need to.
“Deku?” he muttered.
She nodded. “He didn’t mean to be cruel. But he said... he said I needed to stop looking at him like that. Like I expected him to stay.”
Her words shook, more than she did.
“I wasn’t even going to say goodbye,” she admitted. “I just thought if I floated away, maybe no one would notice.”
Bakugou’s stomach turned. “So you came up here to—”
She cut in before he could finish. “I didn’t go through with it.”
“You almost did.”
She didn’t deny it.
He looked away. “You had someone,” he muttered. “Even if he hurt you. You had something.”
She frowned. “Do you think that makes it easier?”
Silence.
“...Thanks,” she said softly. “For yelling at me.”
“Don’t thank me,” he snapped.
But she already had. And when he turned again, she was gone. Her shoes still left prints in the dust near the edge.
---
Day Two — Toru
It was quieter today.
Too quiet.
Bakugou came anyway. The weight on his shoulders hadn’t left. It never did. But Uraraka’s visit had stained the rooftop with something unspoken. Now it felt like more than just a hiding place.
It felt like a graveyard of thoughts no one dared say out loud.
He stood with his arms crossed, staring down at the city like it owed him something. Then came a voice—uncertain, disembodied.
“Um... hi?”
He flinched.
She shimmered into sight like condensation on glass. Toru Hagakure.
She stood closer to the edge than she should. One shoe already off, toes curling over the concrete.
“Don’t,” he barked.
She blinked—at least, he thought she did. Her outline turned slightly toward him. “I wasn’t gonna jump,” she lied.
“Bullshit.”
She laughed, but it cracked at the end. “I... I don’t know what I was doing. It’s stupid. I just—no one ever sees me.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Not just because of my quirk,” she rushed. “I mean... like, me. I’m invisible, even when I’m not.”
She sat down slowly, legs dangling off the edge. “People copy my work. Take my credit. I speak and it’s like I’m background noise.”
Bakugou stared.
“Do you know what it feels like to wonder if your existence is a burden? To think maybe—just maybe—if you vanished, no one would actually notice?”
He did.
And it terrified him to hear it out loud.
He didn’t say anything. But maybe that was the point. She wasn’t here for a solution. She just needed someone to remind her she was real.
“I didn’t jump,” she whispered.
“But you were going to,” he replied.
She didn’t answer.
“I didn’t mean to take your spot or anything,” she said after a beat. “I just wanted to disappear on my own terms.”
Her voice faded like mist.
She stood, wiped her skirt even though there was no dust.
“You’re... nicer than people think,” she said. “Just don’t die before I get the chance to prove I’m worth something too, okay?”
Then she vanished again, quite literally this time.
---
Day Three — Todoroki
No hesitation today. Bakugou walked barefoot over the concrete, his boots resting near the wall like a ritual. It didn’t feel dangerous anymore. It felt familiar.
He didn’t expect anyone.
But then—he wasn’t alone.
Todoroki was there, already standing by the ledge. One hand in his pocket, cardigan sleeves rolled back slightly. Pale yellow. It looked wrong on him.
“You stalking me now?” Bakugou muttered.
“No,” Todoroki said. “I thought I’d be alone.”
They stood in silence. Then Bakugou noticed it: Todoroki’s heel, half-over the edge.
“Move back.”
Todoroki didn’t.
“Seriously. Move.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Todoroki said, voice flat. “But I thought about it. Too long. Too much.”
Bakugou took a step closer.
“My father wants something from me I can’t give. My sister wants me to pretend we’re a family. My mother wants me to forgive her. And me? I just want quiet.”
Katsuki growled, “Then scream. Break something. Don’t fucking end it.”
“I didn’t end it,” Todoroki replied. “Because you yelled.”
Bakugou stopped.
“I saw you from the stairwell. Day one. Yelling at Uraraka. I stayed. I waited. I wondered if someone would scream for me like that.”
Bakugou looked at him, stunned.
“And today,” Todoroki added, “you showed up again.”
He stepped away from the ledge. “So I didn’t.”
Bakugou didn’t know what to say.
“Thanks,” Todoroki whispered. “For showing up.”
And like that—he left.
---
Day Four — Falling
There was no one left.
No Uraraka near the ledge. No Toru dissolving into air. No Todoroki wrapped in quiet grief. Just Katsuki. Just gravity. Just the steady pulse of the sky above and the city below.
He sat on the ledge like he’d always belonged there. Like all his rough edges had been carved for this drop.
Todoroki’s yellow cardigan lay folded beside him.
He slipped off his socks. The wind kissed his bare toes. The concrete beneath them was warm, as if trying to offer one last kindness.
His phone buzzed again, screen lighting up.
Uraraka: I’m glad you were there.
Toru: I’m still here because of you.
Todoroki: Someday I’ll explain the sky photo. I promise.
Katsuki stared at the messages. They felt like ghosts of hands he’d already let go of.
He placed the phone down gently beside the edge, face-up, like a marker stone.
Loop. Pull. Dangle.
Shoelaces unknotted.
He didn’t close his eyes.
Didn’t whisper a goodbye.
He just leaned forward—
—and let the world take him.
The fall was silent.
No voice. No scream. No quirk to cushion it. Just wind roaring in his ears and the cold rush of regret he didn’t realize he had.
The skyline turned. The rooftop disappeared. His body surged downward like a stone unworthy of flight.
And then—
Snap.
A crack through the air.
Something surged out of nowhere. Fast. Black. Whip-like.
It slammed into his torso, wrapping around him like a harness yanked from the stars. His chest seized. Ribs screamed. Air stolen.
He was yanked back—up—violently, like the earth had changed its mind.
Midoriya’s voice howled through the wind:
“KACCHAN!”
Bakugou didn’t know if it was real. Maybe this was death. Maybe this was what it felt like to be loved too late.
Then came another snap, another pull, and the next thing he knew—
he was in Izuku’s arms.
—
They collapsed onto a neighboring rooftop, the impact jarring. Katsuki rolled across gravel, scraped raw, heaving air into his lungs like it was made of fire.
Izuku crashed beside him, Blackwhip retracting, his whole body trembling from exertion. His hands were shaking so hard, they barely looked real.
“You idiot,” Midoriya sobbed. “You absolute—stupid—bastard!”
Bakugou couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t speak.
He could only stare up at the sky that had almost let him go.
“I saw your boots,” Midoriya choked. “And your phone. I saw your phone—” His voice broke into a gasp. “I almost didn’t make it—”
Bakugou coughed. His voice came out hoarse. “You weren’t supposed to.”
Midoriya launched forward and punched him, right in the shoulder. Not hard. Not soft, either. Just enough to say I love you in the way only Katsuki would understand.
“You saved all of them,” Midoriya whispered. “And you were going to die alone?”
Katsuki’s throat locked.
“I was the only one you didn’t stop,” he murmured.
“I’m stopping you now.”
They lay there in silence, sweat cooling against skin. The wind felt different now. Not hollow. Not heavy. Just... there.
Blackwhip twitched at Midoriya’s wrist. Ready to be called again. Always ready.
And this time, Katsuki wasn’t falling anymore.