The city was still bleeding.

Buildings half-crushed, streets webbed with fissures, and skies stained with smoke—this was what “peace” looked like after the war. Heroes were disbanding. The media was relentless. And Izuku Midoriya was gone.

You were the only one who knew where he went.

Not because he told you.

But because you followed.

You found him in an alleyway five days after he disappeared from the hospital. Bandaged, limping, covered in soot and dried blood. He didn’t say your name when he saw you. He just crumpled to his knees and whispered, “I was hoping you wouldn’t come.”

You crouched beside him and leaned in close, pressing your forehead to his. “Too bad. I go where you go, Deku.”

That was the beginning.

Now: Weeks Later

You and Izuku had become ghosts in the city.

You slept in abandoned safehouses, patched each other up, and left villains hogtied at police stations before disappearing again. The two of you had fallen into a rhythm: he would push too hard, you would drag him back; he would break down, and you would stay until he could breathe again.

Tonight, the rain was coming down hard. You both stood on a rooftop, panting, soaked, and bruised after a brutal skirmish with a Nomu remnant gang.

Izuku wiped blood off his cheek. “You didn’t have to take that hit for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You really wanna play that game, Midoriya? How many times have you thrown yourself in front of something twice your size just to ‘buy me a second’?”

He gave you a look. That classic, tired little smile—the one that never quite reached his eyes these days. “That’s different.”

“No. It’s not.” You stepped closer, grabbing the edge of his tattered cape. “You’re not alone in this. You never were.”

The rain pooled between you, cold and relentless. He looked at you like you were the only real thing left in his world.

“Why’d you follow me?” he asked, voice barely above the rain.