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it’s too soon.
izuku is trapped under the rubble of what used to be a building, and no matter how hard he struggles, he can’t get free. his quirk isn’t enough. he can’t push hard enough to get out.
i don’t want it to be over yet. i’m not ready.
he can see uraraka sprinting for him and todoroki running right behind her; they’re so close, close enough that they can see the life drain out of his eyes as he slumps, and yet far enough away that they can't reach him, can't do anything .
i don’t want this to be the end.
by the time they reach him, he's cold, eyes closed, chest still, and the smallest bitter smile gracing his lips.
(he knows that at least they got everyone out, that they saved everyone. everyone but him.)
it’s been some time.
a week or so later, izuku wakes up in a sort of floaty, voidy-feeling trance.
he opens his eyes and everything seems...slightly washed out? a little less vivid than he's used to?
he quickly realizes, when he looks at himself and sees that he has no injuries but is slightly translucent, that he died and became a ghost.
he watches the class grieve, pushing on through their lives but seemingly not as in it as before.
(they never thought this could happen. they never thought one of them would die before they even finished their second year.)
he's never seen uraraka look so empty before.
he's seen her cry, but she isn't crying now.
all his friends are downcast; todoroki is blank-faced and tight-lipped again, iida seems more robotic and stiff and uptight, tsu doesn't say anything. shinsou hasn’t even opened his mouth, and a heavy, tired darkness swirls in his eyes.
he tries to talk to them, let them know that he's here, it's okay, they don't need to grieve for him.
but they can't see him, can't hear him, can't feel his gentle touch.
even kacchan seems more withdrawn, and izuku doesn't know what this means.
(it means that katsuki is feeling guilty, something he doesn't know how to handle. it means that katsuki
took too long
, he never got the chance to apologize for being such a jerk because of deku’s weak quirk — a weak quirk that had become so strong — and he
thought he’d have more time.
katsuki knows, deep down, it’s really because he was selfish and prideful and waited too long, and by the time he worked up the nerve to finally tell deku
he was sorry
deku was already dead.
)
aizawa seems different too, for reasons izuku can't discern.
(he doesn't know that shouta has gone through this before; he swore to never let this happen again, to never let his students have to go through what he did but he
failed
. he failed midoriya, he failed his class.
he failed oboro. he broke his promise, and that's something that he has never done.
)
the entire class just seems downtrodden, and izuku wonders where the energy has gone. he knows he'd be sad too if there was someone else in his place, but did he really mean that much? he was just one of twenty, right?
izuku is… kind of at a loss. how can he make this better? how can he help ?
he can't. he knows this, but he won't stop trying.
the class is fragmented. izuku doesn't know why. shouldn't they be closer than ever now? trauma bonds people, right? and with one of them gone, they should be clinging tight to each other, holding on so that they'll never lose another one again. but they're not. they're separated, distanced from each other. izuku supposes maybe they're distancing themselves as a form of emotional protection, but he can't really see it. it just doesn't make sense. and he doesn't know why .
(it's because he was the glue that held the class together, he was the foundation that they’d stood on, he was the rival that had lifted them all higher, urging them to be better . and now he's gone.)
so izuku tries to push them back together again, like a puzzle that's been dropped on the floor and he's picking up all the pieces, trying to fit them all together even though one piece is missing.
he keeps talking to them, but they don't hear. he keeps walking around and in front of them, but they don't see. he keeps touching them on the shoulder, patting them on the back, gently holding their hands or hugging them like he used to. but they don't feel.
sometimes, he can feel them under his arms.
sometimes, he just passes through them.
(sometimes, tenya thinks he sees midoriya out of the corner of his eye, but no one's there when he turns to look. sometimes, shouto thinks he can still hear his voice, cheering him on, telling him it's okay, pushing him onwards; plus ultra. sometimes, ochako thinks she can still feel deku's arms giving her a soft hug when she's at her lowest
when she's missing him, when she’s feeling like she’s failed because he saved her so many times and she couldn’t do the same for him.
)
occasionally, izuku sees a sad-looking skeletal man walking around the halls of ua. he vaguely remembers the man as all might in his skinny form, though other teachers referred to him as “yagi”. izuku isn’t quite sure why yagi seems so affected — they’d only met once after all, and it had been one of the best days of his life — but he isn’t sure why everyone is so affected in the first place.
(he doesn’t know that toshinori is taking it personally. toshinori blames himself for this young man’s death, for this child whose shining potential and bright future had been brutally snuffed out. toshinori had been so close to giving young midoriya one for all, but he didn’t. his quirk — some sort of telekinesis — had been pretty weak when they first met, but he knew young midoriya could be a great hero with it, and told him as much. and he was right. as young bakugou struggled against the slime villain while the rest of the pros stood idle, young midoriya had charged in without a second thought. his quirk wouldn’t do much against the villain, but the sight of this child — this hero — running in to save his friend, had been enough to spur toshinori into action. that was the moment he knew young midoriya would be a wonderful hero, with or without one for all. after young togata turned him down, toshinori kept looking, but never found a successor. turns out, he didn’t need one after he finally took all for one down for good at kamino. and now he wonders . if he had given young midoriya his power… would he still be alive now?)
eventually, izuku realizes that this is not working . so he changes tactics; when he can touch things, he focuses as hard as he can and picks up a pen or pencil, scrawling a quick note that he's here, that he's not gone. he tries tracing through moisture on the bathroom mirrors, saying that it's okay, they can move on. he tries leaving messages on phones and computers, saying that he's always with them, that he'll never leave. but the messages and notes always disappear right after he finishes writing them, and anyone who happens to catch a glance either rubs at their eyes and brushes it off, or forgets as soon as they turn away.
and izuku...he really doesn't know what to do now.
he's tried everything, and none of it works. the class doesn't know he's here. all he can do is watch.
and he does.
he watches as the class survives villain attack after villain attack, he watches as they get hurt, he watches as they fail to save people. and he hurts , for them and for the victims, because he's been there, he knows what it's like on both sides of the coin. but never once has he blamed his classmates for failing to save him, because he knows by now that you can't save everyone.
he had to learn that lesson the hard way.
he's just glad that nobody else from his class has joined him. they've all done so much good, and he's so proud of them.
(izuku doesn't know that after his death, the class collectively swore a silent oath to be the best heroes they could be, and then to go beyond that. he doesn't know that they all still think of him every day, that they push themselves to be better for him. they'll never let this happen again.)
finally, graduation rolls around, and everyone (well, except him) is still there. he watches them cry and smile as they finally reach the end of ua. he's crying and smiling, too. it… honestly, it kind of hurts that he can’t be there reaching the end of his school days with them, but that’s okay. he’s made his peace with it long ago.
(for the class and aizawa, it’s a bittersweet day, too. they may have moved on, but they’ve never forgotten. it hurts knowing that not all of them could make it, that midoriya couldn’t be with them for this day, but they’ll do better. they’ll make him proud.)
days turn into months turn into years, and he’s still there, watching over them. he watches them all become pros, watches them form their own agencies and go out there and save the world like the heroes they’d all dreamed of becoming. even if he couldn't be there with them the way he wants to, the way he thought he would, they've all made it. he's so proud of his class.
these past few years, he's always watched over them.
these past few years, he never took his eyes off them, never turned away, not even for a moment.
these past few years, he's never thought about anything other than his classmates.
finally, he relaxes. he knows he can't do anything for them now. they'll have each other, though. he's glad for that, at least.
"izuku?"
a soft voice drifts into his awareness.
he stills. that voice... he knows that voice.
he hasn't heard it in almost seven years, ever since the earthquake.
slowly, trying not to get his hopes up too high (and at this point it's kind of a miracle that he still has hopes, but izuku's always tried to find the light at the end of the tunnel), he turns.
and there, standing before him looking just as young and perfect and beautiful and loving as she had the day she'd died, is his mother.
inko smiles at him, a smile izuku hasn't seen in so long and had buried so deep that he’d forgotten how much he missed it. she opens her arms, and he rushes forward. finally, in her warm embrace and sobbing his eyes out, izuku feels like he's home again.