What He Whispers (Ghost Deku)

Chapter 1

Third person pov

It starts, as so many things do, with the barest of whispers.

These days, Katsuki finds it hard to see himself as any concrete shape. He feels as intangible as fog, drifting aimlessly, nothing more than a loosely clustered, translucent cloud that lets the wind carry it. 

That's what happens when the world is ripped out from beneath your feet. You have two choices. You either float, or you let gravity take you. You let yourself fall.

Katsuki is not the type to let go so easily. He doesn't think he's allowed to have that, doesn't think he has a right to plummet the same way his stomach had when he first realized what had happened. His regrets bubble to the surface the moment the news sinks in, and his first thought is that, while it may not be his fault that Izuku is gone, his death is still something Katsuki will have to carry for the rest of his life. Something that will torture him.

Izuku has always been there. He was a constant in Katsuki's life, blindingly optimistic when he probably shouldn't have been. Katsuki got so used to him following behind that he forgot to look back, and by the time he did-- well, it was far too late. It feels like Izuku slipped right through his fingers, but sometimes Katsuki wonders if the freckled boy was ever in his hands to begin with.

His death happens the day of the entrance exams, right after Katsuki has finished securing what he's certain is first place. He's riding a high, heart thundering with the same ferocity as his explosions. There's a commotion nearby that he hardly pays attention to. He's going to skirt around it and go home, victorious and smug.

He is, until they wheel Izuku Midoriya's mangled body right past him, and the world stops turning on its axis.

Izuku Midoriya doesn't die because Katsuki told him to. He doesn't jump off the roof of their middle school in hopes of being reborn with a quirk in his next life. His death, though, seems like a sick parody of the fact. Because in a fit of adrenaline and fear, he had activated a quirk in the end according to the reports. Brought on by the stress and urgency of the situation, he'd leapt into action to save someone else.

And he'd fallen. It wasn't on purpose, but the result is the same. Someone needs help, UA drops the ball, and Izuku falls more stories than anyone could survive and cracks on the ground with a splatter. Different narratives, but both share an ending. Similar enough to make Katsuki sick to his stomach.

It's unfair. Katsuki knows that's exactly what life is supposed to be, but it doesn't change the fact that this was not supposed to happen. Izuku Midoriya had always been some untouchable, unwavering beacon. He was bright and the very definition of what it meant to be alive. 

Izuku's determination was a blazing, blinding ball of epic proportions, the type of flame Katsuki could never begin to hope to nurture in himself, it was so large. Bright, brilliant. A man-made star, practically. 

Katsuki supposes Icarus' tale holds some merit. He rushes off after the gurney, mind blank, thoughts stalled. He feels like he's under water. His mouth forms a name he has not spoken in years-- Izuku-- but there's no response. 

Bright green eyes don't turn his way, lips don't curl into a shaky and uncertain smile. Izuku is unbearably still, twisted up in such a manner that Katsuki knows he won't be coming back.

A hulking, familiar form brushes past him with single-minded focus. Katsuki blinks slow as he registers the number one hero's presence. All Might, like Izuku, is unmoving. He is a height nobody can reach, always smiling, too noble, too good to exist in a world as terrible as this one. He brings hope to everyone who sees him, beaming grin an ever-present staple.