Chapter Text
Todoroki and Mizuki were able to kept busy before another inevitable wall came up, midway through their third class period.
“It looks good.” said Todoroki, flatly.
“Uh-huh.” Mizuki’s chin was slumped in her right hand, already sickened by the specific shade of blue they’d chosen for the background of their PowerPoint, “Looks good.”
Mizuki was finally realizing that silence wasn’t just a habit with Todoroki, it was the default. If anything was going to be done about her rapidly-encroaching boredom, she was clearly going to have to be the one to say something— never mind the fact that she had a sense that her partner was just as mind-numbingly bored as her. She tossed out a layup.
“Now what?”
“I don’t know.”
However— thank you!— instead of just leaving it at that, Todoroki decided to take some sense of initiative as he raised his hand, looking expectantly towards Yamada-sensei. Mizuki looked, too, as if to increase the urgency of their shared question. It still took their teacher around two minutes to notice, engrossed in conversation with Yaoyorozu and Ibara— both of whom had about half a million questions each, and ensured to take up Yamada-sensei’s attention at least three times a period. Fortunately, today, Yaoyorozu quickly spotted them. She politely cut off her partner to apologize and point him in their direction. Mizuki smiled over at her in a nonverbal ‘thank-you’, just as their teacher turned.
“Ah! My quiet ones!” Yamada-sensei smiled at them as he weaved between the pushed-together jumbles of desks, “What’s new? Need any help?”
“No, sir— we’re done, actually.” Mizuki explained.
Yamada-sensei raised an eyebrow.
“Done? Really?” he said, “So, if I asked you two to get up there right now and present— you’d be ready?”
Mizuki hesitated— she was just considering the grammar she knew she was struggling with— while Shouto took over.
“You said presentations definitely won’t start until next period. Is there anything else we should do?”
“How ‘bout your spelling? I’ve seen lots of people struggling with the new rules on commas—“
“—We’re fine, there. Shima made some mistakes, but I already fixed them.”
Mizuki flushed, embarrassed. Did he have to be so obvious?
“Only after I found where you misspelled ‘tatami’. Twice.” she muttered.
“Sounds like you guys should check that over, then!” Yamada-sensei made eye contact with another group, and was just prepared to scoot around Mizuki’s desk when Todoroki spoke up again.
“Shima already did that, though.”
“Checking twice never hurt anybody, kiddo!”
And, just like that, he was gone. Another moment and Todoroki pushed his laptop across the split in their desks, to her side.
“You should probably check these over.”
“I already checked them—“
“—Sensei said to—“
“—I heard what he said!” she gave the slides a cursory examination and then added, “There. I’ve checked them three times, now.”
With a huff— and was that an eye-roll?— Todoroki’s hand was back in the air. It took Yamada-sensei even longer to get to them that time, and he didn’t even stop by their desk that time, simply calling a “Yes, Todoroki?” as he went past.
“Shima’s checked the spelling three times, now.”
“How ‘bout you check it, then?”
“But she just checked it. What’s the point?”
“Todoroki—”
Yamada-sensei pinched the bridge of his nose, coming to a full stop. His moment of contemplation, however, was interrupted by a sudden ‘whoops-!’ followed by a crash. Looking over, Mizuki found Yaoyorozu, white as a sheet, and Ibara looking close to the day’s seventh Hail Mary. In their collective grasp was the edge of the colored-pencil bucket, dangling by a broken plastic handle, having fallen off the shelf behind them.
In that already-uncomfortable silence, Todoroki tactlessly pushed forwards.
“I’m asking if there’s anything we can do to avoid just sitting here—“
“—I dunno, kid! Take a hike or something! Sheesh-!”
Mizuki flinched all the way back into her seat, but Todoroki finally went silent as Yamada-sensei raced to salvage the colored pencils, which were now rolling in every possible direction at terminal velocity. A good majority of the class climbed from their seats to help, despite their teacher’s multiple protests. Initially, Mizuki thought her partner would follow. However, when he stood, he merely leapt deftly over the nearest swatch of multicolor chaos and headed for the door.
“Todoroki?” Mizuki called, “Where are you going?”
Much like their first day on the project, he was gone at her next glance. This time, Mizuki was not willing to put up with it. Quickly, she got to her feet, nearly stepping on Midoriya as she weaved to the front of the class, shrugging her blazer on more firmly as she raced down the hall.
She caught up with Todoroki down at the lockers, where he was finishing pulling on his outdoor shoes.
“You’re ditching?”
“Sure. He dismissed me.” Shouto shrugged, “I can’t ‘take a hike’ inside, can I?”
“So… wait.” Mizuki’s wires were so crossed it was a wonder she could even think properly, “Did you do all that on purpose? So you could leave?”
Todoroki shrugged.
“I would have been fine just being dismissed, or sent to the main office — I doubt he’d actually do anything aside from calling home, where no one currently is. Going outside is better, though.”
Mizuki looked up through the high window. Much of the past week had been overcast, and the streaming sunlight was rather beautiful that day, she supposed.
“Are you coming or not?”
“I didn’t know I was allowed.”
“You’re not.” said Todoroki, indifferently, “But since you’re already here, I assume you don’t care.”
He’d be dead-wrong about that one, Mizuki thought, a cold sweat running down her nape. Oh, she would be in trouble— big trouble!— as soon as Yamada-sensei realized she’d left! She couldn’t even imagine what Vlad King would say, when he found out.
But… for perhaps the first time, Todoroki was talking to her like she was an actual
person. So, after briefly weighing her options— she was doomed either way, so did it matter?— Mizuki sat down and changed her shoes. Seconds later, they were out the door.
Campus truly was beautiful, this time of year. Spring was finally melting into summer, the grey clouds of the traditional April-May showers parting to reveal robin’s-egg-blue skies, throwing highlights through the lush, wooded spaces of campus. If not for the distant screech of construction— they were deconstructing the Sports Festival arena, in the wake of its destructive finale, almost a month ago— the day would be absolutely perfect.
As her eyes drifted towards her walking companion, Mizuki caught the tail end of a glare in the direction of the loud bangs. Nice to know she wasn’t the only one actively bothered by it.
“This way.”
“Okay.”
Walking in the opposite direction rid them of the unpleasant sounds, soon enough. In its wake, the silence held. Mizuki liked silences, really she did. But there was something heavy about this one. The weight of things unsaid— but, she drew a blank on how to break the tension.
Both fortunately and unfortunately, it seemed Todoroki wasn’t affected by the same self-imposed limitations.
“Why did you stop, at the finish line?”
“What?”
Todoroki sighed, as if repeating himself was a massive inconvenience.
“The Sports Festival, during the obstacle course. Your Quirk is a speed-type— but you stopped directly at the finish line, and let all those people go past you. All the cameras caught it.”
“Yeah. Lots of them did.”
Mizuki’s face was flushing, fast. None of her classmates had dared to address that day: how her Quirk had misfired at the sight of thousands of people in the stands of the stadium. Mizuki had been left fully paralyzed, immobile in the shadow of the finish line, watching with shame and frustration as others crossed without issue.
Thankfully, that Bakugou kid had then gone and gotten himself hogtied, leaving her Sports Festival blunder as an end-of-page reflection, in some of the lower-tier papers and gossip sites. But it wasn’t something she was proud of, all the same.
“Why did you do it, then?”
“I didn’t mean to do it.” she shook her head, “It just… happens.”
“How does that happen?” Todoroki stopped walking, allowing them to come even, “Didn’t you do it on purpose?”
“I’d never do something like that on purpose!”
The sentiment came out louder than she’d intended, but she might as well have been reading the dictionary, for all Shouto reacted. Mizuki’s urge to de-escalate kicked in, quickly.
“I’m sorry.” she swallowed, hard, “My Quirk is just… broken.”
A cocktail of shame and panic welled in her chest. It was the first time she’d really addressed her Quirk’s backlash. Perhaps since middle-school, when she heard her parents anxiously whispering in the hallway about her decision to train for heroics course entrance exams. Beyond their limited means— she never consulted a Quirk specialist, or got a membership to a heroics gym, like most applicants to the top schools— they feared her survival, with a drawback that severe.
“Quirks can weaken or strengthen, but they can’t break.”
“Then I don’t know what else to call it.” Mizuki put up her hands, “It used to work normally, and now it doesn’t. Ergo, broken.”
“You can’t use it?”
“I can’t control it properly. These days, if too many people are staring at me, it misfires— it stuns me rather than what I’m targeting.”
The vivid colors of Shouto’s hair clashed as his eyebrows knitted.
“Then how did you get into UA in the first place, if you can’t even control your own Quirk?”
“You’re asking the wrong person.” Mizuki shrugged, “I guess the robots weren’t so bad. Whenever they locked onto me, the self-stunning didn’t activate the way it does, with people.”
“I see. So, during the sports festival, the crowd threw you off, at the end.” Todoroki paused, “I… thought you meant to do that.”
“Oh, no,” Mizuki shook her head as she stepped off the path and took a seat in the soft grass, adjusting to avoid one of the many entwining tree roots that made up the campus pathways, “I would never. From a career perspective, the Sports Festival is too important. You know?”
Although the roll of his eyes made his differing opinion quite clear, Shouto didn’t answer as he picked his way over the roots and finally found a tree to lean against. Either he considered sitting criss-cross applesauce demeaning or didn’t want to risk getting dirt on his pants. Mizuki watched a raven swoop down from the trees and begin to root around in the grass.
Once again, Todoroki broke the silence.
“Yesterday, I asked Yamada-sensei to exclude me from this project.”
“What? Why?”
“The questions aren’t information I want to share.”
“You mean, you don’t want people knowing your birthday, or your interests?”
“I don’t want to talk about my family.” his expression darkened, “But he refused. He only said that I didn’t have to share those answers, for the presentation.”
“…Oh.” Mizuki hesitated, remembering how Shouto had described his father, the period before. His actions made it clear that he loathed the man.
She considered what she knew about Endeavor, which wasn’t very much. Efficient as he was, he always lacked popularity though his status as a prominent hero with a family had done him some favors in the polls. The magazines her aunties used to bring over to swap were always filled with grainy shots of a small trope of red and white-haired children on their way to school. Clearly, there were things going on behind the scenes that the cameras hadn’t captured. She raised her hands, slightly.
“I won’t ask about your family, if that’s something you don’t want to talk about.”
“Even if you don’t, someone will.” Todoroki’s icy stare grew more intense, “Everyone wants to know what a top hero is like, in-person.”
“Then, why don’t you tell me something else about you?”
“Why?”
“It’s my job to ‘introduce you’ right? I’m sure we can figure out an introduction interesting enough to replace the Endeavor association. What do you do outside of school?”
“I train my Quirk.”
“O-kay… What about, y’know, fun things? Hanging out with friends?”
Todoroki thought for a moment.
“Oh. My friends and I caught the Hero Killer, last month.”
Mizuki felt like the breath had gotten knocked out of her.
“…I’m sorry?”
“You shouldn’t say that one, though. If it got out, I’d probably get arrested.”
“Are you joking, or…?”
“No. It was over our internships.” he gestured to his bandaged left arm, and then what Mizuki realized was a newer wound, healing over his scar. “These are from his katanas.”
It… could make sense, Mizuki supposed. She recalled how Endeavor had ultimately been credited with the Hero Killer’s defeat, so assuming Todoroki had studied with him, he’d be in the right geographic area. But could he really…?
Todoroki met her eyes and there was a challenge there, an implicit dare to question his statement.
No, he… he had. Mizuki had seen firsthand how skilled he was with his Quirk during the Sports Festival. His power and control were already impressive enough— he had no reason to lie about the claim, no matter how outrageous it sounded.
“That’s… wow.” she took a moment to process, “That’s— why didn’t they let you take the credit?”
“Licensing.” Shouto spoke the word like it was poison, “We’d be subject to charges for improper Quirk use, if we came forward.”
“Improper Quirk use for taking out the villain that’s killed a dozen people? That’s ridiculous.” Mizuki tilted her head, “How’d you ever track him down?”
“Midoriya texted me.”
“Midoriya?” Mizuki blanched, “I didn’t take him as the type to…” she couldn’t decide between “break the rules” or “track down a murderer.” However, it was clear that Shouto took blatant offense to her misjudgment.
“You’re one to talk.” he scoffed, dismissively, “The Hero Killer would’ve had an easy time with you— you’d do all the work of stunning yourself for him.”
Mizuki’s overlapping apology died in her throat at the cutting remark. But what did she expect, really? There was a reason she kept her drawback close to the vest— had tried to, before the Sports Festival blew everything out of the water. If she wanted to become a hero, if she truly wanted to walk the path in front of her, she needed to not only overcome that drawback, but people’s perception of her.
Mizuki consciously unclenched her fists and a surprising amount of anger flooded out of her body with it. Some of it openly manifested through her Quirk. She caught Shouto’s glance to her palms as violet electricity flickered between her fingers— he subtly shifted his weight onto his back foot in a fluid and instinctual battle-stance.
“You’re right.” she said, “I do have a lot that I need to work on. That’s why I’m here.” she met his eyes and shrugged one shoulder, “I haven’t had very many opportunities to improve myself— prior to the entrance exam, I was mostly self-taught.”
“You weren’t trained?”
“I’m almost an hour by train outside Mustafau. The nearest Quirk gym is a thirty-minute drive, and there’s no convenient train lines in that direction.” she explained, “Besides, have you seen their membership fees? They’re outrageous. I trained every day all the same, but it was… more practical for my family that I figure it out on my own.”
Shouto stared at her for a long time, almost as if she’d unfurled some truth of the universe he hadn’t been aware of. Mizuki braced herself for the next question — based on prior behavior it could be anything from another dig at her Quirk to questions about her family, her preparedness for the reality of heroics…
“Quirk gyms have fees?”
“Uh. Yes…?”
“I see.” at her silence, he averted his gaze and clicked his tongue, “There is a Quirk-resistant gym built into my family home.”
Mizuki had figured as much. Still, she could tell that he seemed a bit uneasy and did her best to de-escalate.
“I’m sure that has pros and cons.” she said, “No battling the weather, but no excuse to skip a workout, either.”
“Mostly cons.” Shouto mumbled, “I… would have rather been self-taught.”
A small irritation simmered in his chest— Todoroki was so talented with his Quirk already, it was almost embarrassing to admit that they were in the same program. Clearly whatever training he’d gone through had made an impact.
But there had to be something more to that statement she thought. Nobody in their right mind would squander the resources that an upbringing like his came along with— surely, no one would choose what she’d gone through.
Whatever promoted that bizarre statement, based on Todoroki’s stony expression, it was something she probably didn’t want to touch with a forty-nine and-a-half foot, heat-resistant pole.
“That might be the one and only thing I could give you pointers on.” Mizuki laughed, “If you ever want tips on setting up a training obstacle course, let me know.”
Shouto only nodded. Then, with a casual glance towards the sun— was he checking the time?— he pointed back towards the two overarching towers of U.A.
“We should get back.”
“Oh, right.”
They fell in line with each other and back to silence. Mizuki busied herself with worrying obsessively over the inevitable lecture from Vlad King — so obsessively in fact that she nearly walked right into Shouto as he stopped at the doors. She came just short of hitting him, and in the moment before she backed up, she could feel the faint body-temperature split radiating from his skin.
“I apologize.”
“…Huh?”
“I was… unaware that our circumstances were so different.”
Shame and embarrassment quickly rose in Mixuki’s chest.
“Oh no, please, don’t mention it, you couldn’t have kno—!”
“—It is impressive that you got into U.A. despite your drawback. On your own merit.”
In that moment, Mizuki was more likely to die of embarrassment on U.A’s front steps rather than walk across its graduation stage.
“Um. Thanks, Todoroki.”
Again, he nodded, fishing his phone out of his pocket.
“If you do have any suggestions on self-training tactics, I would like to hear them.”
“I…” Mizuki blinked dumbly for a moment before she realized he was holding the device out, expectantly, “—oh! Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.” as she fumbled to add her contact details, she offered her own phone back to him.
Much like their worksheets, phones were traded back to their owners in silence before they entered to change back into their normal shoes. As they made their way to the hallway, Mizuki noticed an oddity and began to adjust it.
“Oh, you forgot your last na—“
“—Wait.” Todoroki stopped her, “Leave it that way.”
“…May I ask why?” a flush rose in her cheeks. Surely he didn’t mean… he couldn’t…
“Shouto is my hero name.” he said “And Todoroki is, of course, associated with my father. I am trying to break that association.”
Oh— oh that made much more sense. He was trying to carve his own niche, make a name for himself. Mizuki couldn’t imagine how cloying it was to be tied forever to someone that deeply under the public microscope.
“I understand. That’s a nice goal Todo— I mean, Shouto.” her hands began to spark and twitch, slightly, “I mean, assuming I can use that verbally, too? My, uh, my hero name is Specter! You could use that, I suppose— e-except it sounds a bit silly when I say it out loud, doesn’t it?— Um—! You— you can just call me Mizuki, then? If you’d like?”
Shouto had stopped, highlighted in the light of one of the campuses’ floor-to-ceiling windows as she inelegantly spouted word-vomit in response to a simple ask.
“That seems fair, Mizuki.” he said. “Thank you for understanding.”
“No— no problem…”
They reentered Yamada-sensei’s classroom and it felt like a new space— though that may have been because a thousand colored pencils weren’t littering the floor. Of course, they’d only barely made it inside before all eyes were upon them. The vivid chartreuse of their teacher’s was particularly cutting, and Mizuki had just managed to make it into the aisle before the collective attention paralyzed her, entirely.
“You two had better be ready to explain yourselves.”
Yamada-sensei’s go-with-the-flow attitude had vanished entirely, the expression on his face a terrifying echo of U.A’s most famous glare— that given by Class 1-A’s Aizawa-sensei.
“Where. Have you. Been?”
The paralysis had extended all the way up to her vocal chords, leaving Mizuki completely helpless. And then, once again, she felt the ghost of dichromatic temperatures at her back.
“We went outside” said Shouto, his tone utterly unflappable, “You’re the one who told us to take a hike.”
As Yamada-sensei’s face morphed from rage to confusion, chaos erupted, and voices came from all sides.
“What the hel—heck, dude?” snorted Denki Kaminari.
Midoriya looked utterly thunderstruck.
“T-Todoroki, that’s not what that expression means-!”
Iida shot up like a lightning bolt, turning upon a still-gaping Yamada-sensei with singular intent.
“Sensei, this was a clear instance of miscommunication!” his chopping arm turned on Todoroki, “You must learn not to interpret these things so literally, my friend!”
“Iida, you’re one to talk…” mumbled Hanta Sero.
Mizuki felt the paralysis of her muscles ease as the chatter swelled — and unbelievably, found herself able to move forward and duck, stiffly, back into her seat, the collective attention firmly on her project partner. Finally, Yamada-sensei composed himself, clapping his hands in a sharp motion.
“Alright, alright—! That’s enough!”
As Todoroki sank into Pony’s vacant seat, their teacher strode around, briefly checking his watch before swiveling that same hand to point from his eyes to them, in succession.
“Thin ice, you two.” he warned, “For the rest of this semester, you aren’t getting another warning. Do you understand me?”
“Y-Yes, sir.” Mizuki mumbled.
Shouto met his gaze, cool and unbothered.
With a huff, their eclectic teacher sauntered back to his desk, mumbling something in English under his breath. The bell chose that very moment to buzz, dismissing them for the lunch hour. Mizuki sighed in relief, gathering her things, and slinging her bag over one shoulder.
“Thanks for that.” she said, quietly, under the din of dismissal, “I’ll— see you next class?”
“Sure.”
Smiling, she raised a hand and took her leave, only pausing to offer a brief bow of apology to Yamada-sensei, who irritably waved her towards the door. In spite of the trouble she still may well be in with Vlad King, the continual annoyance of her Quirk drawback, the project that she considered could probably use another read-through, she felt… lighter, somehow. That feeling alone carried her to lunch and to an unusually successful rescue exercise following, in their practical heroics class.
She clung to it as she brainstormed and shared a few self-training ideas on the train home, and smiled at the straightforward ‘Thank you.’ her suggestions were met with from Shouto, late that evening.
Mizuki had a long road ahead. But, she clearly had lots to learn from those around her— and maybe something to offer them in return. If her interaction with Shouto had proven anything, she thought, it was that freezing wouldn’t— couldn’t be the answer, anymore.