U.A.’s auditorium glowed with warm lights, banners draped across the walls, and rows of proud families filling the seats. Laughter echoed through the hall, cameras flashed, and students adjusted their gowns with nervous excitement.

But for Izuku Midoriya, the world moved slowly.

As if time itself was afraid to touch him.

He stood among his classmates, cap tucked under his arm, fingers brushing the tassel absently. Everyone else buzzed with anticipation—Kirishima bouncing on his heels, Mina fixing her eyeliner for the fifth time, Todoroki quietly adjusting his sash.

Izuku smiled when they looked his way.

A small, tired smile.

The kind he’d learned to wear since the funeral.

He took his seat in the front row, the one reserved for top‑ranked students. The chair beside him—Katsuki’s rightful place—remained empty. A single white ribbon was tied around it, a symbol of remembrance.

Izuku stared at it for a long moment, his chest tightening.

You should be here, Kacchan.

The ceremony began with applause as the faculty filed onto the stage. All Might stood among them, shoulders squared, eyes soft when they found Izuku in the crowd.

Principal Nezu stepped up to the podium. “Today, we celebrate the next generation of heroes—those who have endured hardship, loss, and unimaginable trials, yet stand before us stronger than ever.”

Izuku’s breath caught.

Loss.

The word echoed through him.

He folded his hands in his lap, grounding himself.

When the time came for the board rankings, a hush fell over the auditorium. A massive screen lit up behind the stage, displaying the U.A. crest.

“Now,” Nezu announced, “the final academic and hero performance rankings for the graduating class.”

Names began appearing on the screen, starting from the bottom. Students leaned forward, whispering, pointing, cheering quietly when their friends appeared.

Izuku barely heard any of it.

His heart pounded in his ears.

The top ten appeared.

Then the top five.

Then—

1st Place — Izuku Midoriya
Final Rank: 99.95

The auditorium erupted into applause.

Kirishima whooped so loudly he startled half the row. Mina grabbed Izuku’s arm, shaking him with excitement. Todoroki gave him a rare, warm smile.

Izuku stared at the screen, stunned.

He had done it.

He had topped the entire grade.

He had achieved the highest rank in U.A.’s history.

And all he could think was—

Kacchan… I wish you could see this.

His vision blurred. He blinked quickly, wiping at his eyes before the tears could fall.

He stood when his name was called, walking to the stage with steady steps. The applause washed over him like distant waves. All Might handed him his certificate, pride shining through the sadness in his eyes.

“You’ve grown so much,” All Might whispered. “He would be proud.”

Izuku swallowed hard. “I hope so.”

After the ceremony, families swarmed the courtyard, taking photos and hugging their graduates. Izuku slipped away quietly, diploma tucked under his arm, cap in hand.

He walked the familiar path up the hill.

Snow crunched under his shoes.

The cemetery was silent except for the wind brushing through the trees. Izuku approached Katsuki’s grave, breath fogging in the cold air.

“Hey, Kacchan,” he murmured, kneeling in front of the headstone. “I… I graduated.”

He let out a shaky laugh. “And I ranked first. Can you believe that? You’d probably call me a nerd.”

He placed a fresh bouquet of blue baby dragon’s breath in the vase, replacing last week’s flowers. They glowed softly against the snow, vibrant and alive.

The vase had never once been empty.

Izuku made sure of it.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small protective case. Inside were the paper rings—their rings. He opened it gently, brushing his thumb over the worn edges.

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “I’m surviving. Just like I promised.”

He set the case beside the vase, letting it rest against the stone.

“I wish you were here,” he said softly. “But I’ll keep going. For both of us.”

The wind carried his words away.

Izuku stayed there until the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky turning shades of pink and gold. He stood slowly, brushing snow from his gown.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he whispered.

He always did.

And as he walked down the hill, diploma in hand, he felt something warm settle in his chest.

Not peace.

Not yet.

But something close.

Something like strength.

Something like Katsuki.