Katsuki stared numbly down from the roof. His fingers felt numb, deep crescents gouged into them from his nails, fists clenched as the blood froze in his veins and left him in a haze of fog and smoke.

The sun gleamed, blood red on the horizon, casting long shadows that faded into dulling violet.

Katsuki was stone, unable to move as the sun continued its path down the sky, falling behind dark clouds. The heap lying in the school courtyard didn't so much as twitch, even as the pool of red spilled out from it and grew and darkened.

Dead on impact.

Katsuki knew that for sure. He could feel it.

In another world, he would have raced down the stairs, unable to calm a fiercely beating heart that thudded only with the hope that there was a chance of survival for the green haired boy who had always been too small.

He would have caught a few words, been able to apologize, as meaningless as they were.

In this one, even if he had been at the bottom from the start, he would never have had a chance to see Midoriya Izuku alive again. Would never be able to touch him again.

Katsuki barely registered calling the police, hands shaking and unaware of whatever words he chose to say as they tumbled out. Finished, he allowed the phone to slip from his slack fingers as his legs gave out beneath him and he slid down the rough wall of the roof.

For a second, he saw a flash of green, worried eyes, and a sparsely freckled, round face, but then it was gone.

Dead on Impact.

Well. It was one way to start a story.

Yagi Toshinori, on the other hand, wasn't having a horrible day. At least, he could admit he had been a little cruel to the boy who had asked to be a hero that morning, but All Might couldn't waste the limited hours he had. He had to turn in the sludge villain, afterall.

Of course, his day took a drastic turn when he finally powered down for the evening, and found a watery pair of viridian eyes staring at him, blood dripping down his face and pooling at his feet as it twined its way around twisted mangled limbs and almost covered deep mauve and mottled bruises. The dark green hair at his temple was matted and darkened further by a dark maroon liquid that stained his round cheeks.

It was only natural that Toshinori immediately began hacking on a clump of his own coppery blood. "Shounen?"

The blood-covered boy seemed equally surprised to be seen as Toshinori was to see him, red-rimmed eyes widening significantly, and lips just barely parted. "You can see me?" he whispered, glancing down at a bloodied palm.

"Of course, young shounen… I saw you this morning, after all!"

Eyes that had seemed like all the colors of vibrant green foliage earlier shifted up to him, weighed by a neon darkness, unnatural, without the warming sunshine. What was wrong with them? "But this morning I was still alive."

Ah . Toshinori realized, suddenly, pain spiking in the sunflower burst along his ribcage and tightening in an electric cage in the midst of his chest. Those eyes were without life.

Midoriya Inko was beyond heartbroken. Her life may as well have been cardboard. Worthless, bland, flat. For she had killed her son. A few words, no outright cruelty, but no support either.

The shadows in her house seemed to taunt her, mocking in greyed whispers as she walked past them, the only light in the house served one picture. To glare over the glass of the pictures lining the wall as they slowly gathered and powdery film of dust.

She glanced at them wearily as she passed. What was the point in cleaning the dust? She was the only one who would ever see these pictures anyway, and she already knew exactly what every single one of them looked like.

A little boy with a wild mane of hair and a brilliant smile and vibrant eyes that hid a young boy who'd decided to choose death over continuing to live.

Midoriya Hisashi barely glanced at the black envelope stained grey by water droplets before he threw it in the trash.

For a moment, Katsuki considered returning the water-logged Campos notebook, as stained and disintegrated the pages were, all stuck together and bleeding red and black ink. Just to give him something to do other than sitting in a darkened room with the curtains drawn.

He thumbed at the ruined pages. The old hag herself hadn't talked to Katsuki in weeks.

Aunty Inko would just slam the door in his face.

Toshinori was broken.

He had killed a young child, and the more and more he knew him, he was able to see how selfless his spirit was. The boy always through himself into fights with a shriek, and every single time his expression darkened and eyes wept bitter tears as he couldn't do anything. Midoriya would scream and cry when he failed to do anything, hands just reaching through villains or mangled victims that he had failed to protect from harm. That All Might had failed to protect, even if he always managed to save them in the end.

So Toshinori threw himself into his work, fighting villains with every second he had and straining the limits of his form until blood filled his lungs and began to crawl its way up his throat, suffocating him.

In another life, Toshinori was sure he would have offered the boy his quirk.

Inko stood in a cloud covered field, shadows dancing across the swaying grass in the emptied and overgrown cemetery. It was all she could afford, and her only company was an old preacher with squinted eyes who had never known her son.

For a moment, she had imagined Izuku, stained with blood and tears standing before her, trying to hug her, but he was an illusion. Of course he couldn't touch her. And his tears joined hers as they knelt at the grave of a hero dead too young.

But just them.

Noone else had shown.

Hisashi Midoriya sauntered down the streets of central Mustafasu, comfortable in the place he had lived for years while he attempted to build a family. He hadn't been back in years of course, but he wasn't one to deny a job, so he had come.

A flash of curly green hair caught his eye, and though the boy seemed somewhat transparent as he bounced alongside a skeletal man who held his head down, that wasn't what stood out. The color and uncontrollable waves familiar to what Hisashi faced every day in the mirror reminded him of his son. Hah. But that was impossible wasn't it?

A few days ago, Hisashi had received an email from Inko, full of so much vitriol and absolute venomous hate, such that he could have never expected from the petit woman he had once called his wife. It didn't really matter much though, as the heart of the message left a crazed grin stretching his face as fire and ash flickered about his mouth.

The filth that was his quirkless son was dead. What wasn't there to be happy about?

Katsuki was smothered, and through the crowd gathered around the escaped villain made of sludge and bloodlust, he caught a glimpse of dark green eyes. Perhaps he would join Izuku now. Katsuki closed his eyes.

(Part of him didn't want to be rescued by All Might as he heard the voice of the boy he was killed before for someone to help him. That was stupid. Izuku wouldn't ask someone to help him. He would want Katsuki to suffer just as much as he had.)

Months passed as shadows lengthened and light turned gold.

Katsuki wondered if he deserved to be a hero. Toshinori waited more than ever for the death Nighteye predicted. Gave his quirk away to Mirio because he could never give it to the boy with green eyes and a bloody smile. Inko wasted away, alone in the dark. Hisashi celebrated.

But Izuku was always more important than just four people.

Aizawa Shouta wondered, sometimes, about the patches of cold he'd walk through some times. Waves of unease and stark, chilling cold much more bleak than anything the Japanese night air could give.

There was just that feeling of wrongness, of something in the dark shadows that he was missing. And the missing tore at a space in his heart, filling it with some unknown melancholy.

And Aizawa Shouta never heard a young boy's call out warnings to him in the dark-lit allies he spent his nights.

Sansa Tamakawa and Suke spent days at the police station, busied by constant cases, and increased civilian deaths that left them exhausted. The public were turning on the police, only serving to make their jobs harder. Sometimes, they daydreamed about a vigilante figure, someone to help them, someone young and pure and with a pure desire to protect and save and an unnatural tendency for danger. Someone who would make the days in the darkened police station a little more worthwhile.

A blind kitten lay on the side of the road, fur matted with dirt and ears ripped as the flicked weakly against the flies that began to gather. Ribs poked through her patchy fur, and she no longer had the energy to stand. A part of her missed the smell of ozone and sunshine-warmth, but the nameless kitten did t know why that was the last thing on her mind as she drifted away.

Ochako lay in a hospital bed, legs fractured under the rubble of a giant robot that wasn't stopped quickly enough and completely unfeeling. The hospital bills kept racking up. Her parents were suffering from it. Paralyzed, the doctors had said. With therapy, (expensive, expensive therapy) she would be able to move past it one day, but she would never be a hero.

And so the small girl wept as she stared at the bright white ceiling, imaging the stars and someone who could have saved her.

A part of her hated UA. If only she had never believed that she could be a hero.

Shinsou visited the girl in the hospital sometimes. She didn't know his quirk yet so she didn't hate him yet. He knew it wouldn't last for long.

Sometimes he fantasized that he had decided to take the UA entrance exam, that he had been in the same arena as her. Maybe if he had he could have saved her. Even if he hadn't gotten into the hero course, he could have kept her from such pain.

But he hadn't taken it. He remembered how much he had prepped for it once, been determined to at least try his best. Then heading home from training, exhausted from too little sleep, he'd stepped onto a crosswalk and promptly been hit by a car. It was a laugh, really. Just his sort of luck. The only reason he didn't laugh was that a rib had punctured his lungs.

He was stupid, really. Of course he couldn't be a hero like that. A short comma later, and really, he didn't see the point in trying anymore. At least at the hospital he could help people without them knowing about his quirk.

Katsuki didn't think he belongs in UA. He took the test numbly, and was surprised to have passed at all. Now he stood outside the gates, and all he could think about was how much Izuku would have loved to be there.

Battle trials happened, and he could have sworn he kept seeing Izuku standing next to All Moght, who's smile looked wearier than ever as his eyes seemed to sidle over to the figure that Katsuki was hallucinating. It made him feel a little better, that someone else seemed to feel as fucking horrible as he did, even if he had his own demons standing in that space.

Tsuyu didn't want to die, but it was too late. Mineta watched on, paralyzed, fearful, and Tsuyu wondered if Aizawa was right to reinstate him. She wished she could have spurred him to action with inspiring words, but with her guts spreading out and polluting the water red, all she could manage was a croak.

And she joined the ghosts, surprised as a green-eyed boy immediately latched onto her and wailed out his apologies. He was covered in more blood than she was, and blinked in surprise as it began staining the dirt red.

"It's okay, kero. I don't think a ghost would have been able to do much."

The spirit just cried harder.

Class 1-A was fractured. All Might knew it as he watched their downtrodden air as they attended Tsuyu's funeral. He saw it in Aizawa, whose bags had grown even darker and hair limp as he rolled around covered in bandages. He'd managed to save Mineta, and yet Toshinori knew that was no consolation. There is none for letting a child die. Toshinori knew that better than others.

Said dead child stood beside him, staring sadly at a lonely grave that sat apart from the rest. Some sort of bitterness seemed to darken his gaze as he glanced back at the solemn procession that surrounded Tsuyu's grave.

"No one came to my funeral." He said shortly, distantly, but his eyes seemed to shine more than they usually did. Tears.

"My boy…"

(Katsuki's black rimmed eyes widened, glancing at the petit figure that was dwarfed by All Might as the large man responded to him)

Mineta quit the hero course. He hardly belonged. He should have known it from the moment Aizawa announced his expulsion. He should have known it from his motives alone.

And so Class 1-A dropped to 16 members.

The sports festival was something of a disaster. Kirishima started it off fine, talking about bravery and manliness.

In the final match versus Bakugou, with his father's cold cerulean eyes glaring at him from the stands, and Tsuyu's death flashing behind his eyes, Todoroki lost control.

The doctors had always told him that holding back his quirk for too long would cause it to burst, something like what had happened to Toya, but he hadn't listened. He refused to acknowledge that man's quirk as his. Besides he used his ice.

But all his opponents had been easy, and the ice kept building within him until it burst. And along with it, fire. The explosion was massive, and sent both him and Bakugou flying out from the center until they slammed against the walls. Bakugou has managed to use an explosion to slow his momentum, but Todoroki slammed directly into the wall, and the crack rang out even through the sound of the arena as blackness covered his vision.

In those moments, he wondered why he had never gone to see his mom.

When he woke up weeks later, he decided he didn't want to be a hero anyway.

Tenya was slumped in the dark ally, bricks cold and hard beneath him as he gritted his teeth against the pain and tried not to cry. Stain had spared him, called him pitiful—but all he wanted to do was to avenge his very excellent older brother! Ingenium had been a great hero—the best! Stain didn't have the right to take that away.

But he had, and he'd stolen from Tenya too.

He sat in an ally without an arm as he waited for anyone to save him.

(And it's his fault, Izuku thinks. Because if he wasn't dead, maybe he would have been able to do more than try to push a blade as his hands passed right through it. Maybe he'd have known Iida, maybe even been friends, and maybe he have been able to save someone.)

Kouta Izumi backed up, teeth bared as salty tears dropped into them until his back hit against the rocky mountain hard enough to bruise.

A dark shadow of a man towered over him, grin frightening and malicious as a mechanical eye focused in on him. The weak splashes of river water only caused the grim to twist up to a maniacal extent

His death was painful, but at least he found his parents in the end.

Fumikagi screamed a requiem into the night as he finally wrangled dark shadow into control, only to find the greatly injured body of Shoji collapsed against a tree. He was not killed, but to cause such grievous injuries to a fellow student—Fumikage had allowed the darkness to overtake him. It was unforgivable.

Bakugou was sitting chained in the villains workshop, bruises stinging across his jaw when he once again saw that flash of green.

"Deku." He growled softly. "You're here aren't you."

The boy solidified, covered in crimson blood that stained the floor as it dropped from his mouth and his head and the gouge in his neck. Mangled limbs that shouldn't belong on anybody hung limply as he shrug slightly. "Hi, Kacchan."

And fuck if Katsuki didn't want to cry hearing that voice after a full year. He jerked forward limply, wishing he could pull his arms free of the chains and tug close the innocent person he had killed. Noticing the movement, Izuku shook his head.

"Sorry, but I'm a ghost. No touch." And he disappeared, leaving Katsuki alone once again in the shitty bar.

He'd bet no one was coming for him. Why would they. He was a murderous villain already, after all.

All Might lay defeated in the aftermath of Kamino, skeletal body leaking warm blood onto the crumbled stones. All For One was dead, All Might not willing to risk the great enemy ever coming back. Blood welled up at his mouth and Izuku appeared and knelt beside him. "Thank you for saving Kacchan."

"Of course, Shounen." He didn't have the energy to smile as the boy gently wiped away the blood gathered on his face.

"You did well." He announced, green eyes just a little brighter than they'd been for such a long time. "Really well." The smile was bitter, but still soft and kind and exactly like how Toshinori had always known the boy to smile. "Mirio will carry your legacy well."

Toshinori nodded as he gazed up at the stars. They were really beautiful, even through the dust. "I would have liked to have chosen you." He said distantly.

The smile remained gracing the boys face, but it became just a little sadder around the edges. "I would have liked that too."

"What… what was your name, my boy?" Toshinori asked hesitantly, wondering if the child he'd killed would truly give him a response.

"Me?" He paused, smile twisting wry. "I'm Izuku, but you can call me Deku."

Toshinori nodded as much as he could as more blood welled in his throat. He reached a faint, shaky hand. For once, he made contact, and Toshinori could guess why. "You would have been amazing,..Deku."

Midoriya Izuku's eyes shined through the dust and dirt and blood that lay around the pair. "Goodbye All Might."

Life went on. Disaster continued and hero's stayed, and new ones rose up.

Mirio lost his quirk, and it was luck that allowed him to keep One For All.

Nighteye died amongst the rubble of the Yakuza's basement.

Eri remained unknown, lost somewhere amongst the labrunth of the building, buried in the stone and cement and sterile lights of her prison.

The UA cultural festival was cancelled upon the arrest of Gentle and La Brava.

Endeavor began planning his retirement as he watched his son walk through the mansions halls in a daze, uncaring for life. Without any goals and unwilling to listen to Enji.

Rey Todoroki remained alone in the hospital as the flowers stopped and fuyumi and Natsuo's visits slowed.

Tsuyu's famil mourned. Ochako's struggled and worked overtime to make money so their baby could walk again. Shinsou's foster parents had never cared, and he felt better off as he began studying to be a doctor. Bakugou kept his eyes peeled for a flash of green even as the guilt continued to rack his body at night, now coupled with the image of All Mights corpse amongst the disaster.

And everyone knew something was missing. Something that upset the coolness of the air, that cried at each pain felt by others. At each failure. And the people who would have filled his life, filled a once empty funeral, felt the wrongness. But what was there to be done?

There was nothing there.

And life continued as it was.

That's that. If you like this story, and would prefer a happier version, check out Yurei No Eiyu. If you like that, and want more consistent updates and the ability to converse with me, check it out on Archive of Our Own. It's a public work, so you don't need an account to read or comment!

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