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This is where Todoroki feels most himself—the middle of a battle, sweat-drenched and breathing hard, shouting to his teammates over the din. Few things come naturally to him, but this? This is what he was born to do. This is where everything else goes quiet, where he hears only his pulse pounding in his ears and thinks only of dodging the next blow or aiming the next attack. In a way, it’s the most peaceful he ever feels.
“Froppy!” he shouts, noticing a villain approaching. “Someone’s coming at you from the left!”
“Thanks!” she croaks, leaping out of the way and disarming the villain with a quick, adept flick of her tongue.
The group they’re fighting today is rather new, a rag-tag bunch with little organization or teamwork. However, despite their inexperience, they’ve got powerful Quirks and they’re well-armed with swords and knives of every variety. Todoroki has to remain alert.
The team today is Asui, Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya, and the villains outnumber them roughly four to one. Todoroki has no doubt they’ll win, but the challenge is making sure they do so with as little property damage as possible. The paperwork for just one broken water main is more than Todoroki even wants to contemplate.
A villain approaches right at his twelve o’clock, clearly signaling her intent to attack. Like Todoroki had thought, they’re woefully inexperienced. He freezes the villain in place, ice coming all the way up to her hips and completely immobilizing her. Todoroki tries not to feel self-satisfied at that. It’s almost too easy.
“Todoroki!” Midoriya shouts, coming from directly behind him. They’ve known each other long enough that Todoroki is able to discern a note of genuine fear in his voice different from the usual mid-battle urgency. He whips around and immediately sees two things that make panic carve out a gaping cavern in his stomach.
The first—a particularly sharp-looking knife glinting in the sunlight as it sails directly at him.
The second—Midoriya bodily throwing himself between the knife and Todoroki.
Before Todoroki can blink, before he can breathe, before he can react, the knife has lodged itself in Midoriya’s stomach.
The sound of the battle raging around him falls away. His vision tunnels, going black around the edges and bringing Midoriya, with blood rapidly staining his costume, into painfully sharp focus. Todoroki suddenly can’t breathe, his throat tightening and his chest heaving up and down. Yet despite the panic making his mind go blank, one thought comes through startlingly clear.
Midoriya’s hurt. Do something.
Without thinking, acting purely on instinct, Todoroki leaps forward, catching Midoriya as his knees buckle. Todoroki quickly forms a wall of ice to block them from any more attacks coming from the direction of the knife, then eases them both to the ground, cradling Midoriya in his lap. His entire abdomen is now warm and wet with blood.
“Help! We need some help!”
Todoroki’s never heard his voice sound like this. It’s high and panicked and rough, nothing like his usual steady, composed monotone. It’s because he’s screaming, he realizes. He can’t remember screaming since he was a child.
No one seems to have noticed Midoriya’s injury. He shouts again, even higher than before.
“Someone help! Please!” His voice seems to shatter like delicate glass, jagged and sharp around the edges.
Midoriya coughs, a wet, sickly sound, and his eyelids begin to droop.
“Hey, Midoriya.” Todoroki swallows down against the panic rising in his throat and tries to affect composure. “Hey, look at me. You need to stay awake, alright? Stay with me.”
“Todoroki?” Midoriya’s voice is weak and his gaze is somewhat unfocused, but he tries to find Todoroki’s eyes. Without really knowing why he does it, Todoroki reaches down and brushes his sweat-damp hair off of his forehead.
“Yeah, it’s me. You’re gonna be okay. Just stay with me.”
He shouts again for help, so loud it feels like the scream is clawing at his throat, and again receives no response. Fine, then. He’ll try something else. It’s ill-advised and risky, but judging by the ever-darkening patch on Midoriya’s uniform, he doesn’t really have any other options.
Todoroki has heard the stories of hysterical strength, of mothers who, when seeing their child trapped underneath a car, were suddenly able to lift the vehicle. Fear is its own powerful Quirk, in a way. But those instances were simply a matter of brute strength. What he needs now is hysterical precision.
It’s a maneuver he’s been working on for some time, laying a sheet of ice that only immobilizes the opponents and avoids his fellow heroes entirely. He’s certainly got the power to pull off that move, but the accuracy is tricky. He needs complete control over every inch of ice he creates to avoid hitting his teammates. This moment, so frightened he can hardly see straight, is far from the best one for trying such a difficult technical maneuver, but it’s his only choice.
He can do this. He has to do this. Midoriya’s life may depend on it.
Todoroki breathes deeply. Surveys the area to determine everyone’s position. Lowers his shoulders. Places his hand on the ground. And… now!
The din of the battle suddenly quiets. Todoroki opens his eyes—he hadn’t realized he closed them—and takes a look around. His body goes weak with relief.
The fifteen or so villains all appear to be encased in ice up to their knees. They struggle frantically again the restraints, like fish caught on a hook, but it’s no use. None of them have Quirks well suited to freeing themselves from a six inch thick layer of rock-solid ice.
He caught Iida’s left foot, but other than that, he managed to avoid his teammates. As a test run of the move, it’s not too bad.
But there’s no time to appreciate his handiwork. Midoriya’s breath is rattling, wet and shallow, and his face is white as fresh snow. In any other instance, Todoroki might appreciate how it makes his freckles appear even darker, but that’s the last thing on his mind right now.
With great care, he lifts Midoriya and starts running towards Iida.
“You’re doing great, Izuku,” he soothes. “Just hang on a little longer. We’re gonna handle this together, alright? I’ve got you. We’re almost there.”
Todoroki doesn’t know where these reassurances are coming from. He’s never been good at soothing the frightened victims; that’s usually Midoriya’s territory. But he finds that cradling his best friend in his arms, his blood staining Todoroki’s uniform, the words come effortlessly.
“Ingenium!” he shouts, as soon as he gets close. “I need help! Midoriya needs to get to a hospital.”
With his left foot, he melts the ice encasing Iida’s ankle and, trying not to jostle the knife still wedged in Midoriya’s abdomen, places him in Iida’s open arms. Todoroki’s chest aches at relinquishing his hold on Midoriya, but it’s only practical. While he’s hesitant to allow Midoriya out of his sight, Iida’s clearly the faster between the two of them.
“Don’t take the knife out,” Todoroki warns.
“I know, Todoroki.”
“And keep him awake.”
“I know.” Something kind and gentle flickers in Iida’s eyes. “Don’t fret. Midoriya will undoubtedly pull through. He’s got a tenacity that puts us all to shame.”
And with that, Iida takes off, so quickly and powerfully it blows Todoroki’s hair back. Midoriya’s in good hands, he tells himself. He’ll be fine. Todoroki just needs to handle the police, who will no doubt arrive on the scene soon, and then he can go see him.
It’ll be okay, he tells himself, and tries desperately to believe it.
“Todoroki?” It’s Midoriya’s voice, rough and somewhat weak, rousing Todoroki from sleep. Todoroki groans, not yet opening his eyes. Just a few minutes longer; that’s all he’s asking for.
And then the sudden awareness of where they are and what happened hits him like a punch to the gut, nearly knocking the wind out of him. The battle, Midoriya’s absolutely idiotic sacrifice, the hospital, the surgery, spending the past day and a half in a chair at Midoriya’s side.
Todoroki opens his eyes. Midoriya looks a bit pale and he’s connected to all manner of tubes and wires, but he appears bright-eyed and lucid. Perhaps it’s just wishful thinking, but he seems okay.
“You’re awake.” Todoroki’s tone is a bit frostier than he intended, but he’s had roughly thirty-six hours to stew and fret over Midoriya’s sheer stupidity, so he finds his emotions getting the best of him.
“Am I in the hospital? What happened?”
“Do you remember the battle in Shinjuku? You got injured.” He manages to stop himself before adding, “by your own inexcusable rashness and irresponsibility.”
Midoriya’s brow furrows.
“Parts of it are coming back to me,” he begins, slowly and a bit unsure. “I got stabbed, right? In the stomach.”
“That’s correct.”
Midoriya rubs at his forehead.
“You were there fighting with me. Iida and Tsu too. And a villain threw a knife. And it was headed towards you and I blocked it.”
“Blocked it with your own vital organs, yes. You’ve been unconscious for a day and a half.” Todoroki can hear the implicit disapproval in his tone, but Midoriya doesn’t seem to notice.
“And you’ve waited with me the whole time?” he asks, tone soft and hopeful.
“I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to wake up and try to impale yourself on the nearest spork. That seems to be your modus operandi these days.”
Midoriya laughs. Todoroki doesn’t.
“Well, I’ll go call the others and let them know you’re awake,” Todoroki says brusquely, standing to leave.
“Could you just… stay with me for a little bit longer?” Midoriya sounds uncharacteristically shy making that request. It makes Todoroki’s chest tighten in a funny, gentle way, but he ignores it. He’s angry with Midoriya, he reminds himself, and he won’t allow his affection for him to change that.
“I said I had to go make a call, Midoriya,” Todoroki says, tone clipped. It hurts, physically hurts, to say those words, to treat Midoriya so brusquely, but Todoroki has every right to be angry. What Midoriya did was stupid beyond description, and he needs to know that.
“Wait, hold on, stop. Are you angry with me?” Midoriya says, with a tone of simultaneous disbelief and dawning realization. “Are you actually angry with me?”
“Yes, I am. Astute observation.” Todoroki’s mouth is tight around the edges as he speaks.
“What could you possibly be angry about?”
Todoroki unclenches his fists and breathes deeply, trying to remain calm. As upset as he is, he doesn’t need to shout at Midoriya when he’s just woken up.
“Your actions in that battle were inexcusably reckless,” he says, a bit stilted.
Several expressions pass over Midoriya’s face, his eyebrows and mouth contracting into increasingly bewildered contortions. After a few moments of pure shock, he finally replies.
“You’re saying you’re mad that I saved you from that knife?”
“And sacrificed your own safety in the process? Yes, I am.” Todoroki’s voice is raising in spite of himself. What part of this is so difficult for Midoriya to understand?
Midoriya chuckles, but it’s a hollow sort of sound.
“So I should’ve, what? Just let you get hit?”
“Yes!”
“No! It’s the first rule Aizawa taught us about team combat—you always put your teammate’s safety before your own!”
“Not when it’s me!” Todoroki all but shouts. Frost and flames begin to prickle on his palms, a sure sign he’s getting distressed. “Not when it’s you!”
Midoriya’s eyebrows crease in confusion.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands.
The answer is simple—that Midoriya’s life is more important than his own. That if the two of them are ever in danger again, Midoriya’s safety should always be the priority, damn Aizawa’s training. But knowing Midoriya, he won’t accept a response like that, so Todoroki answers with what he hopes is an acceptable, but still fairly honest, alternative.
“You have people who care about you,” Todoroki says, trying to regain control over the volume of his voice. “Your mom would miss you. Uraraka and Iida would miss you. No one would miss me. So it’s only practical to prioritize your safety. It minimizes the suffering involved. Utilitarian ethics.”
Midoriya’s cheeks flush red with rage. His face, usually so gentle and innocent, appears almost ferocious, like some wild animal in the middle of a fight.
“What the hell is wrong with you? How can you say something like that?” Midoriya demands, nearly shouting. Most people wouldn’t be able to look powerful sitting in a hospital bed, but the sheer righteous anger gleaming in Midoriya’s eyes gives Todoroki pause. “You really don’t think anyone would care if you died? You think I wouldn’t care?”
“You’d move on, Midoriya! Trust me, the world would be just fine without me, but it cannot afford to lose you.”
“I love you, you absolutely insufferable idiot!” Midoriya shouts. “Like hell I’d just ‘move on!’”
For a moment they’re as still and silent as a painting, the perfect tableau of shock and wonderment and disbelief and slowly burgeoning joy. “I love you,” shouted with such conviction and anger that Todoroki knows it in his bones to be true, repeats over and over in his head on a loop. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, Midoriya telling Todoroki he loves him.
And just like that, the anger melts out of Todoroki in steady, smooth drips, like ice cream on a summer’s day. It’s replaced by a bright, white light that fills every inch of his body. He’s glowing; he’s certain of it. How else could he possibly be feeling so wonderfully warm?
“No! No! Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I think it’s the pain meds they’ve got me on or something, you know how they—”
“Is it true, though?” Todoroki asks, soft and a bit wonderstruck. “You love me?”
“I mean…” Midoriya looks aside, clearly contemplating his next words. “When I jumped in front of that knife, I wasn’t thinking about protocol or training or anything like that. I just saw that you were in danger and I knew couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I’d die sooner than let you get hurt. And combined with the crush I’ve been harboring since first year, what else could it be, really, other than love?”
“Oh.” Todoroki is quiet for a long moment, simply reveling in the euphoric lightness and warmth of his whole body, of Midoriya loving him, before he realizes he’s supposed to respond. “Sorry, I love you too, of course. For so long I almost can’t remember not loving you.”
Midoriya smiles, one of those grins of his that his whole body seems to shine with, and they sit for a few moments, silent and smiling, the room seeming to expand in an effort to contain their joy.
“So, what now?” Midoriya asks finally.
“I mean, I really should go let everyone know you’re awake. They’ve all been worried sick. After that, we can talk about things between us. We’ll figure it out together, like we always have.”
“Alright.” Midoriya tone is soft and tender. He hasn’t stopped smiling.
Not quite sure if he’s allowed it, but willing to take the risk, Todoroki steps over to Midoriya’s bed, leans down, and presses a kiss to his forehead. Midoriya makes a strange, half-aborted squeaking sort of noise and when Todoroki pulls back, he’s flushed bright red all the way down his neck.
“I’m still angry with you, though,” Todoroki says, just before he leaves, but he knows he doesn’t really mean it. The joy and warmth fill his body too completely. There’s simply not room for anything else, even if he wanted there to be.