To Love, To Lose, To Leave

Chapter Twenty-Six

One Week Later

Katsuki always thought that his least favorite weather was the rain.

Right now, the weather is the complete opposite—the sky is a bright, crisp blue, not a single cloud in sight. The sun gently shines down, its rays softly sifting through tree branches, snatching away loose leaves, twirling them about in the cool—not cold—breeze before letting them sway to the ground, joining the scattered leaves all over.

He's never hated something more.

The atmosphere—unlike the weather—is a heavy, sorrow-tinged thing; it's practically silent, save for the occasional soft mumble and scattered sniffles. Katsuki thinks he hears someone let out a strangled sort of sob, but he can't tell—his mind's numbingly fuzzy, devoid of any thoughts of processing a single one of his current emotions.

The only emotion that manages to bubble up beyond the numb haze is annoyance—specifically, at the various news cameras, all propped up, positioned solely at the stand by Izu—the casket, that Aizawa—who was dressed in a suit and tie, his hair tied back into a neat bun—was standing behind. It's obvious from the expression on his face that he's also not a fan of them being here—it's not like they really had a choice, though. Even though UA tried keeping news of Izuku's death under wraps—at least, until after his—the funeral, so that Auntie could properly grieve, as well as the rest of the class—it was somehow leaked; All Might's successor—the hero that helped rescue Japan, as well as the entire world, from All For One, was dea—

Katsuki's eyes burn.

...gone. That—that he was gone.

The press—like the damn heartless bloodhounds they were—began harassing Auntie, UA staff members, some of his classmates—even Katsuki himself—asking for comment on the entire ordeal; like it's just some damn hot scoop for their shitty tabloid magazines and websites, like Izuku wasn't anything beyond that, like—

Aizawa clears his throat, a wave of hushes flowing across the crowd, snapping Katsuki out of his thoughts. He takes a deep breath, just as Aizawa runs a hand over his head, then begins to speak.

"Everyone here is more than familiar with the name Deku." He pauses, pointedly glancing over at the area where Katsuki was sitting—seated by his parents and Auntie, and the rest of his classmates. "It's the name of a hero, one whose selflessness and determination to save surpassed that of renowned pro heroes dozens of times. Those who were closer to him knew him as Midoriya."

At that, Aizawa pauses once more, glancing over at Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki, all of whom tightly grip onto each other, eyes either puffy and swollen, or gleaming with unshed tears.

"That's the name of a boy who'd constantly reach out a helping hand to others with a smile on his face. He considered each and every one of his classmates family, and would put his blood, sweat, and tears into making sure that they were all happy and safe."

Again, Aizawa pauses, seeming to pointedly stare down at the wood of the stand.

"Those who are closest to him know him as Izuku. That's the name of a boy who had a habit of rapid mumbling and absurd optimism and never hesitating to express his emotions—who sacrified his time, his energy, his safety, to make sure that everyone he loved wouldn't worry about him.

"Izuku Midoriya." Aizawa says every syllable slowly—almost like he's emphasising the life, the—the soul, that the name alone holds. "He was more well-known as Deku. He was a beacon of hope in our darkest hours—a true hero, an and ambitious student, who sought to make changes in the world and truly worked towards making those changes into reality. He was a hero. He was a classmate. He was a friend. He was a beloved son."