Izuku...didn't expect to get his ghost so soon.

He was sure no one ever did, though. Who in their right mind would spend their hours thinking about how they would die, who would guide them to that death. Not him, that's for certain, until he woke up to Shouto sitting at the foot of his bed.

Their first meeting went a little like this.

"Ugh...urgh..."

Izuku could barely raise his head. His arms felt like led weights, but he knew he needed to get up. The familiar blaring of his alarm was like a failed siren song, lulling him to wake up in a room that was...cold.

Deadly cold. He felt as though he'd been chilled to the bone. Was the heat not working...?

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and finally sat up, the pressure on the bed now shifting to just his legs and underneath the body of the boy at the foot of his bed.

Izuku was stone cold frozen when he saw the intruder. Two tone hair, a nasty scar, hands folded in his lap as he searched him with an icy gaze. How did he even get in here?! Had he hurt his mother?! His fists immediately flew up, and even through his trembling he got ready to growl threatening "GET BACK!" until he was cut off by a chilly toned voice.

"Izuku Midoriya."

How did he know his name?

"I'm sorry to inform you, but I am your death guide."

Those words made his heart sink to the pit of his stomach, his trembling fists dropping into his lap. Death guide? His ghost, already? They'd only just learned about them in school last year..

Everyone received a spirit to guide them into death. One who died in the same way they did. They always appear six months before the official date.

Was this boy telling him he only had six months?! He's only sixteen, he has a life ahead of him, dreams and aspirations, goals, relationships to build and--

"Oh god.."

Izuku looked at the boys translucent form, and for a moment, he swore he saw a look of pain before it was blurred by his own tears. They streamed down his cheeks and met at his chin, a silent sob choking him from vocalizing all the frantic questions he had. The most prominent being "How did you die?"

Since...he would be passing the same way. He couldn't bring himself to ask, though. The thought sent a wave of nausea rocking his body, and as he held his stomach his eyes squeezed shut. Maybe if he stayed like this, the boy would go! Maybe Kacchan hired him just as a scare tactic! Maybe maybe maybe!

But when he opened his eyes, the boy was still there. Solemn and quiet as he had been. The room was still freezing, the light barely filtering through his curtain.

The ache was still there, the feeling of doom, the feeling of utter shame and disgust and hatred at the scenerio. The sadness for himself, but more prominently, the sadness for the boy sitting in front of him.

The boy who needed a savior and never got one.