The days flew by, faster than he would have liked.
February turned into March, and soon he would be graduating middle school.
He tried hard not to think about what that would entail; what seemed like a million years ago he'd aced the mock exams for Yuuei and had made his intentions clear to anyone who would listen that he was going to the prestigious high school.
His classmates and teachers had once looked to him with pride, if not a little jealousy - he would be the one to graduate from their humble little school and go on to become one of the next big heroes.
Now, all they did was stare at him in dread.
He wasn't a fool; he knew what they were all thinking. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought it himself.
What was a bully doing, going to apply at Japan's most prestigious hero school? All the while his victim was suffering from irrepairable injuries?
His parents had tried to keep quiet about it, but late at night, he could hear them talk - Izuku had been badly wounded in the fall, and even now it was doubtful he would ever be normal again.
Normal. He wanted to scoff. Izuku was never normal. Not even now, when he was sitting at home in a wheelchair and his mother was no doubt sobbing over yet another life-changing diagnosis that she had no power to change.
Izuku's spine had been deemed unfixable, even by Quirked standards. The Midoriyas couldn't afford the best miracle doctors in the country, but even they would have taken one look at the boy and declared him out of their reach. The last time he'd visited the hospital with his father in tow, Mrs. Midoriya had blubbered to him about how her son would have trouble with pain and muscle weakness for the rest of his life. Mr. Midoriya, a tall man with dark, dark hair and eyes - sat next to his son, face pinched in sorrow as he held his fragile hand, identical freckle-splashed cheeks gaunt and pale.
To his shock, the tiny green-haired teenager hadn't given much of a reaction to the news. His blank gaze at the wall had thoroughly unnerved the blond, sending a shiver through his body when those vacant green eyes slowly slid to stare right at him.
If he resented him for what he'd done, Katsuki didn't know. He never would. Izuku had yet to say a word.
"He's not brain-damaged at all, thank the gods," the man had said once when his wife had left the room, eyes shifting towards the Bakugous before turning back to the boy. "I don't know why, but... it feels like he's completely given up."
Something about that statement sent another chill down his back. He couldn't sleep that night, haunted by vacant eyes and pale skin and blood, blood, so much blood-
-March slipped away faster than he thought it would.
Before he knew it, he was standing on Yuuei campus amid cheerful pink blooms heralding his arrival, staring up at the sign above the doors with a million thoughts sending his brain into overdrive.
Was this really what he wanted?
All his life he'd been dreaming of this day. He had known how it would go since the day his Quirk had manifested; he would ace every test, he would beat every challenge, he would be the best student that the faculty had ever seen - he would be the next All Might, sending sweeping changes through the world of heroes and villains alike.
Evil would fear him, good would adore him. He would be All Might.
Now he was lost. The comparison to All Might continued to send his gut twisting and churning with nausea, and he wasn't so sure it was solely because of the enormous weight that would be placed upon his shoulders.
Am I fit to be a hero?
Izuku's blank green eyes, once so vibrant with life, now stared back at him in his mind's eye, making him momentarily trip over the toe of his shoe. Mrs. Midoriya's face, streaked red with tears and her voice trembling with sorrow, made his fists clench, and a cold sweat broke on his brow, making his hands go clammy.
Can I be a hero?
His head shouted yes.
His heart whispered no.
If he was living the dream, it sure didn't seem like one.
Katsuki had done what his younger self had bragged about so many times - aced every test, whizzed through every trial - and at the end of the day, he was safe at home in his sleepwear, staring at the All Might poster overlooking his room like a shadow.
The man's darkened eyes and wide, almost comical grin only served to send a pang of dread through his chest, and he swallowed hard to keep the rising bile down. In the creeping darkness, the poster didn't look like his idol. It looked like a reaper, a demon, a nightmare - and for a moment, his breath hitched in fear as he quickly looked away.
It should have been like a dream. All Might, teaching his class? In another time, he would have killed for that opportunity.
He winced at the wording. No, maybe not 'killed for'.
Everything should have been perfect. He was in Yuuei, taught by the most sought-after man in the country, learning how to become a pro hero - he should be happy. Ecstatic, even. This was something he would love to rub in the faces of his former classmates at Aldera.
But the conspicuous absence of a certain boy with green hair soured it, the sweet taste of victory turned bitter by the memory of what he had caused. What he had done.
Did All Might know? Stealing a glance at the poster once again, he searched its lifeless face, tracing every line, every splash of color. Had he figured him out?
He had been so good at hiding the turbulence in his mind thus far, he was sure of it. Nobody at Yuuei had any clue even as to his past. Sure, they didn't like him, but it was no matter. Katsuki had survived Aldera; he sure as hell could survive Yuuei.
He swallowed harshly, his adam's apple bobbing as he finally pulled his covers back. The flower on his desk - a part of a graduation bouquet from his father, an exotic flower called an 'Edelweiss', peeked up at him with an innocent white face.
He had survived. But did Izuku?