Izuku Midoriya heard it before he understood it, the sudden absence of Katsuki's husky, rough voice and the way the battlefield seemed to inhale and never exhale again. Dust drifted through the air like ash. Shigaraki's decay had carved a crater into the earth, jagged and wrong, and at the center of it—

No.

No, no, no—

"Kacchan!"

Izuku's legs moved before his mind did. He sprinted across the ruined ground, stumbling over debris, lungs burning, vision tunneling until all he could see was the unmoving figure lying in the dirt. His heart slammed against his ribs, begging the world to rewind, to undo and give him a last second. But the world didn't listen.

Kirishima caught him first, locking around Izuku's chest as he tried tearing himself free.

"Deku—Izuku—STOP!! You can't—!"

“Let me go!” Izuku’s voice cracked, raw and breaking. “Kacchan—Kacchan—!”

Mina grabbed his arm, her own face streaked with tears. “Izuku, please—don’t look, don’t—”

But he saw.

He saw everything.

Katsuki’s body, still warm but frighteningly still. His gauntlets shattered. His hair matted with dust. His eyes closed like he was only sleeping, like he’d wake up and yell at Izuku for crying.

Izuku’s knees buckled.

He collapsed so hard the impact rattled through his bones, a sound torn from his throat that didn’t even feel human. Kirishima held him upright, arms trembling with the effort. Mina pressed her forehead to Izuku’s shoulder, sobbing quietly.

The medic with the revival quirk knelt beside Katsuki.

Izuku watched with desperate, shaking hope.

A glow.

A spark.

A breath held by the entire battlefield.

And then—

Nothing.

The medic’s expression crumpled. “I’m… I’m sorry. It’s not taking. His life force is gone.”

Izuku’s scream tore through the air.

He lunged forward again, but Kirishima held him back with everything he had. “Izuku—please—he’s gone—”

“No!” Izuku clawed at the ground, at the air, at anything that could anchor him to a world without Katsuki.

“He promised—he promised he’d stay—Kacchan, please—wake up—wake up—!”

His voice dissolved into sobs so violent they shook his entire body.

The sky above them was painfully blue.

Unchanged.

Uncaring.

Flashback upon flashback hit Izuku so hard in his heart as he sobbed.

He remembered Katsuki at four years old, tugging him toward the riverbank, shouting, “Come on, Deku, you’re so slow!”

He remembered Katsuki at ten, eyes bright with ambition, declaring he’d be the number one hero.

He remembered Katsuki at fourteen, angry and hurting and lost, pushing Izuku away because he didn’t know how to do anything else.

He remembered Katsuki at sixteen, voice trembling as he whispered, “I’m sorry… for everything.”

He remembered Katsuki at seventeen, grabbing his hand after a mission and muttering, “Don’t scare me like that again, nerd.”

He remembered Katsuki at eighteen, kissing him for the first time—messy, fierce, terrified, perfect.

He remembered Katsuki last night, leaning against the kitchen counter, smirking as he stole a bite of Izuku’s dinner. “You’re hopeless, Deku. Good thing you’ve got me.”

The brightest part of his life was gone.