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It wasn’t hard to see how much the death of Izuku Midoriya had impacted Japan. Though crime itself wasn’t rising as much as expected, the former class 1A had been quite devoted to resolving the issues within society at their core after all, the few remaining organised crime groups were quickly growing much bolder. His friends, classmates and all the people he had influenced during his life were in deep mourning. Stories of his heroic acts were being shared in the media even weeks after he had passed away after throwing himself in the way of a hit meant for an innocent bystander while fighting a villain. A broken rib, puncturing his lung after he had pushed himself to defeat said villain and put him behind bars; he had been dead before any paramedics could reach him.
Just one person hadn’t said a word about him ever since Izuku had passed away; the person closest to him. In fact, Katsuki Bakugou had completely disappeared from the public eye until shortly after the funeral. His friends were standing by helplessly as they watched the slow destruction of the usually proud man. The first few days he lay motionless in their shared bed, cradling the dumb collection of Dynamight plushies Izuku had amassed throughout the years and the case that kept what would’ve been their wedding rings in just a few months. Texts of condolences and the steady ringing of their doorbell when one of his friends would try to do anything to help him get back on his feet fell on deaf ears.
When they finally had enough, broke down the door and forced him out of bed, he’d do so as though he was in a place far removed from where they were. His showers would be impossibly cold or scaldingly hot, leaving him with red marks on his skin. He would go through the motions of eating without ever truly tasting the food and while staring off into the distance. It was scary how he’d sometimes talk about Izuku like he was still alive and would return soon before completely shutting up.
The day of the funeral he didn’t show up. He didn’t give Inko Midoriya his condolences for having to bury her own son or All Might who had always thought his life would end before the one of his successor. He didn’t look at the urn seeming way too small to contain the remains of someone who had always been larger than life. Speeches were given, tears flowed and roses followed Japan’s saviour beneath the cold ground; all without Katsuki Bakugou present.
While the rest of the world was honouring a death befitting a great hero, Katsuki sat alone in their apartment once again. The sharp realisation that he was waiting for someone who would never come home again, suddenly made it unbearable to look at the familiar pictures and furniture. Hand-picked dishes and glasses shattered on the cold floor, shards of picture frames cut open his hands and arms, lodged themselves in the soles of his feet, yet he couldn’t quell the anger that coursed through his veins. The dumb couch whose colour they had regularly bickered over was ripped to shreds. The kitchen they had spent every morning and afternoon in together, telling the other about their day and whatever came to their minds that moment soon looked unrecognisable. Their bed too, where they’d always fallen into the familiar comfort of each other’s arms, the only place on the world he’d always felt wholly at peace. The blazing fury, anger unlike anything he’d ever felt before, consumed everything, like a fire licking at memories before devouring them too.
Finally, he too collapsed into himself, tears flowing until they became broken sobs; no sound escaping his mouth for no amount of effort could capture the anguish he felt in that moment reality fully dawned on him.
That’s how his friends would find him later that day; lying inside the broken apartment, blood caking his just as broken body.
Following his breakdown and forced move into Kirishima’s apartment so they could keep an eye on him, he threw himself into work. One after another, the unfinished cases on the desks of their shared agency were resolved, but he never took on any new ones. He fired staff, heroes and interns alike; making sure members of class A accepted them into their own agencies in a seamless transfer. When just one case file remained, he cleaned out the building, cancelled appointments and wrote letters. No one could bring themselves to stop him when he went to pursue the final job him and Izuku had accepted together.
Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight passed away after subduing the leader of one of the last remaining organised crime groups within Japan just a few weeks after the funeral, a mirror of the way his fiancée had died. A heroic death, as it was written in the newspapers once again. His closest friends knew of a different truth, knew that this had been a suicide and that he had been dead long before his lungs ceased to breathe; that he could’ve dodged the hit that ended up stopping the heart belonging to their dear friend. His still body resembled the pictures the world had seen years earlier, though this time he wouldn’t rise from the dead to save the day; this time it looked like he’d been ready to let go of life, for the strings tethering him to keep on living had frayed the second the life of Izuku Midoriya had ended. He’d follow the only man he’s ever loved anywhere, chasing after him even when it meant he had to die for it; just as long as they could reunite and chase one another again.