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A world without Kacchan is a world without light. Booming explosions and crackling sparks nothing but fragments of Izuku’s memories, echoing in the evergrowing expanse left behind by fading remnants of the man who once filled every spare nook and cranny of his mind.
Kacchan’s toothy smiles, their rarity only making them radiate even brighter, never again existing outside of where they're tucked away in Izuku's heart. Lost for so long, buried under tangled threads of insecurity and guilt, Izuku had made every effort to draw them out and was rewarded with the sun each time he succeeded.
Kacchan’s crooked little smirks and fearless grins never again a beacon of light during a grueling fight, shining to Izuku across the battlefield. Even the Symbol of Hope needs his own source of hope to keep going, to keep his head above the water in the darkest times, but without Kacchan he’s left to scrounge for crumbs. Pulling together bits and pieces of what others give him - a pat on the back from Kirishima, words of encouragement from Ochako, a hug from Inko - he manages not to sink every time the waves crash over his head, but it barely keeps him afloat compared to what even a second spent with Kacchan gave him.
Maybe one day he’ll let the waves win, he thinks, drifting deeper and deeper until he becomes part of the ocean detritus, at peace in the familiar darkness.
A world without Kacchan is a world where Izuku doesn’t have a home. He returns to his apartment every evening, kicking off his shoes and forcing down a konbini katsudon. Some days his stomach refuses to let him keep anything down and the katsudon ends up in the fridge, next to the yogurt that expired before he remembered to eat breakfast and the black-spotted vegetables bought in a fleeting moment of motivation.
Pots and pans lay useless in the cupboards, last touched by slender hands of nitroglycerin and smoke. The dishes on the drying rack collect dust, Izuku too scared to touch them after he dropped a mug and found it easier to avoid a corner of the kitchen than sweep up the pieces.
He has a house, but it hasn’t been his home since the day Kacchan walked out the door for the last time. He doesn’t feel comfortable in this place where the silence is louder than the explosive voice that once filled its rooms.
Each belonging of Kacchan’s that still remains in the apartment is like a knife ripping through his skin, but each item Izuku got rid of was a stab straight though his heart. Each photo of Kacchan, whether in the depths of his phone gallery or stumbled across unsuspectingly online or in the frames hidden on the top shelf of the closet, is a knife driven in, twisted, and pulled out slowly.
If he spends too long here, he’ll be consumed by what once was, left chewed up and spit out on the floor. When that happens, the only thing pushing him up is that if he misses work, someone will come looking for him. They'll find him frozen in the house where he's promised he's happy, bare without the smile he puts on with his scarf and shoes everyday, and he won't be able to lie anymore.
A world without Kacchan is a world where Izuku spends all his wishes trying to bring him back. Every candle is blown out with thoughts of turning back time. Every ema hung at a shrine, every tanzaku hung on a bamboo tree is left damp with tears. Every time a shooting star streaks out of sight, the empty space at his side feels heavier than before. It seeps into his pores, weighing down his limbs and settling in his chest. Year by year, wish by wish, the heaviness builds upon itself until he can barely move. He doesn’t know where he’s getting the willpower to drag this bag of bricks he has for a body through life, but he can only hope it runs out soon.
A world without Kacchan is a world without victory. From two boys playing heroes by the river to two pro heroes at the top of the rankings, they always pushed each other to be better. Fighting in a dance of orange and green, every euphoric win leaving them feeling invincible. Sometimes whoever was ranked higher would tease the other, met with promises of surpassing him next time, but it never really mattered as long as Kacchan and Deku were together.
Izuku still fights, still wins, still hopes to feel that same euphoria each time, but it never comes. A world without Kacchan is a world without his Symbol of Victory, and without victory hope can’t last forever.
Save to win, win to save. Their motto, whispered in private moments of doubt and plastered across merch for the world to see.
Have they really won if they couldn't save themselves?
A world without Kacchan is a world where Izuku considers joining the broken mug, letting his shattered pieces scatter across the floor.
A world without Kacchan is a world not worth living in.