The Dead Brother - Ghost Deku

-The final end-

-10 years later-

I had made so much progress with my goal.

Suicide awareness was increasing and the tug I felt when someone was going to try, was getting less and less. There was still a long way to go but a lot of progress had been made.

The world was fixing its mistake.

Quirk discrimination was going down, and I was so glad.

Occasionally , I'd step in to do a hero's job, saving a few people, helping the ghost of murder, something like that. Sometimes I was summoned by the pros that were in class 1-A.
I was proud that they still remembered the ghost from their first year at UA.

And so that left me in this predicament.

I had been summoned by Kirishima, Bakugo had taught him after a while of the red-heads begging.
So now I stood, in all my ghostly glory, watching Kacchan or Ground Zero get pummelled by a nomu, Shigaraki standing not too far away, a psychotic smile upon his face.

"KACCHAN!!"

I screamed, my volume amplified as my usually comforting voice echoed through the battle field, windows shattering, each and every pro covering their ears. All my emotion was poured into this scream, all my fear and sadness, anger and yet pride.

Pride in the fact that he was putting his life on the line to save countless others.

Katsuki Bakugo was reformed. He has proven himself.

But no way was I letting this nomu, this villain, take his life from him.

And this time, Fate was on my side.

My screams got louder, my runes glowing a ferocious inky black. The Nomu stumbled off of Kacchan, backing up all the way to Shigaraki.

I kept up the scream as I watch with my white eyes, Present Mic, who was immune to the intense sound waves, approach Shigaraki and got quirk restraining cuffs on him, the man's hands firmly planted in his ears to try and block out the scream.

With the mastermind detained and the rest of the pros quick to react and arrest the other villains when I cut off my scream, I immediately rushed over to Kacchan, him collapsed in the middle of the battle field.

I held him, arms wrapping around his unconscious and bloody body. He was a hero, a true hero. And unfortunately, he was going to get the scars to prove it.

Everyone looked weirdly at the beautiful male who had appeared out of the blue and won the battle, who was now fussing over Ground Zero. They saw his ethereal beauty, my ghostly pale form.

And they continued to watch as my runes glowed once more, no longer an overtaking black but with warmth of darkness, the safety of sleep and even... death. My physical form faded, leaving my touch once again icy cold, and I glided away from the battlefield as pros stumbled out of the wreck, leaving with victory, arm in arm.

Forever to praise the beautiful being, who had won the war, and ended a century long battle, only a certain class knowing their identity.

Deku: the ghost hero.

And so I flew away, having saved thousands of lives. A true hero. A dead hero.