Chapter Text
January brings with it plenty of snow—U.A’s campus becoming nothing short of a wintry wonderland as snowfall after snowfall blankets the grounds and creates ample opportunity for forty or so first-year heroes to get into trouble. But today has been ordinary, if there can be such a thing as ordinary when you’re in the hero course, and, as he walks with Todoroki, Iida, Uraraka, and Tsuyu back to the dorms after class, Izuku is looking forward to snuggling up in a big hoodie, making some tea, and having a study party with his closest friends. It’s calm, and all that Izuku can hear is the laughter of his friends and the crunch of the snow underfoot. Until—
“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK, DUMBASS?”
Bakugou’s indignant shriek carries across the commons from where he walks, side-by-side with Kirishima and Kaminari and several yards in front of Izuku’s group. Jirou and Yaoyorozu stand close behind them, looking a bit like they’ve just been caught stealing from the cookie jar. If Izuku was to guess, he would say it’s likely that Jirou lobbed a snowball at Kaminari, but was interrupted by Yaoyorozu telling her not to; and the snowball hit Kacchan instead. Uh-oh.
For a moment, the tension in the air is palpable—but it’s shattered instantly when Kirishima steps between them, yelling,
“SNOWBALL FIGHT!”
At the call to war, Izuku looks to his friends with a grin, and it seems like they all have the same idea—they abandon their bags on the sidewalk, rushing to Jirou and Yaoyorozu’s aid. Several other students are close behind: Ashido, Hagakure, Ojirou, and Sero join Kirishima’s group, evening out the numbers, and the two teams fan out, forming ranks and facing each other down across a snowy no man’s land.
And the fight begins. Izuku watches as Bakugou attempts to send a snowball flying with an explosive throw, but it blows apart in his hand as Kaminari laughs. Bakugou turns on him with a growl, and Kirishima tries to intervene, and in the moment’s distraction, Jirou lobs a large snowball right at them, hitting Kirishima’s hardened chest and exploding into a fine powder that blows directly into Kaminari and Bakugou’s faces. Yaoyorozu seems to have created a plastic scooping tool that she’s using to shape snowball after snowball, tossing them to Jirou and Tsuyu one after another. Iida, predictably, starts to lecture everyone about proper snowball fight safety, but he gets pelted by a flurry of snowballs from both sides before he can finish. Izuku hides his laugh behind his gloved hands as he pats Iida on the shoulder and sets to work, but, before he can finish making a single snowball, he’s immediately hit in the face with one thrown by Bakugou, and he’s sent stumbling backwards. In retaliation, Uraraka turns serious—as she enters competitive mode, she grabs a snowball floating next to her, winds it up like a baseball pitcher, and lets it fly. Too busy laughing at Izuku to notice, it hits Bakugou in the chest, and he scowls as he shapes another snowball, huffing out steaming breaths into the cold air.
Meanwhile, Izuku’s stumbling backs him into a small snowdrift, and he trips, falling backward to land on his butt in the snow. Bakugou laughs again and immediately gets hit with a snowball flung by Tsuyu’s tongue.
Izuku groans—the snow is quickly seeping through his uniform, freezing and uncomfortable. But before he can get up, Todoroki is suddenly at his side, holding out a hand for Izuku to take. Izuku looks up. Todoroki is backlit by the slowly setting sun, silhouetted by golden rays that catch on his white hair, and Izuku is struck speechless by the halo around his head, his hand reaching out to help Izuku up, blinding in his beauty, his kindness—
“Midoriya?” One word from Todoroki shatters the fantasy, and Izuku stutters to clear his head as he accepts Todoroki’s hand—although taking his hand is even worse for his poor nerves, because Todoroki’s hands are a hero’s hands, and his left is calloused from using his fire, but it’s so warm, so Todoroki… Izuku gets to his feet quickly and shakes his head, stuttering something very intelligent, like, “uh! Uhm! Uhhhh s-s-sorry!”
Todoroki appears very confused as Izuku continues to splutter incoherently and gesticulate wildly, his face growing redder and redder.
Luckily for Izuku, both of them are snapped back to reality as Todoroki gets nailed in the back of the head.
“Get your head in the game, Todoroki!” Sero calls from across the makeshift field.
As several other students from both class A and B join the fight, Izuku doesn’t have time to dwell on his embarrassment; his attention solely focused on dodging volley after volley of snowballs. There aren’t exactly rules, or points, but every student in the game, including Izuku, is competitive at heart—even when there’s no clear way to win, short of knocking out the other team—and they’re all giving it all they’ve got. So Izuku, channeling 8% of One for All’s power, leaps into the air, ducks and rolls, and sends snowballs flying toward his opponents. He weaves between his classmates as their improvised no-man’s-land shrinks, drawing the teams ever closer to one another. He watches as Kirishima breaks snowballs apart with his fists before they have a chance to reach him; Kendou throws massive snow boulders shaped by her huge hands; Shoda makes devastating use of Twin Impact. On Izuku’s team, Uraraka levitates dozens of snowballs in the air around her, tossing them to her teammates one after another; Yaoyorozu makes shields against the onslaught of enemy projectiles; Jirou shatters incoming missiles with targeted blasts from her speakers. They’ve all somehow instinctively aligned themselves according to their strengths: the heavy hitters on the front lines, the snowball makers and defensive quirk users protecting them. And among them, Izuku watches as Todoroki throws waves of fire and ice across the field, protecting someone with an ice shield here, melting snowballs in midair with his fire there. Clouds of steam roll off his body as he moves, obscuring the other team’s view of him.
But view doesn’t matter much if you’ve got a big enough snowball. Izuku sees Kendou’s wicked grin as she scoops up a huge fistful of snow and lobs it high into the air. Todoroki, his own vision also obscured by the steam, doesn’t seem to notice that, as it hits its zenith, its parabolic path is going to collide with him, most likely burying him under a large pile of snow.
So Izuku, as usual, leaps without looking. Before he knows what he’s doing, his legs have carried him 10, 20 feet into the air, on a collision course with Kendou’s snow boulder, and he rears back, letting out a fierce war cry of “OHIO SMASH!” as his steel-toed boots make contact. Todoroki’s gaze snaps upward as the gigantic snowball breaks apart with Izuku’s kick, exploding into fine powder that floats harmlessly down onto the stunned heads of both teams.
Izuku lands in a crouch just in front of Todoroki as his whole team erupts into cheers. He turns around, bashful at the sudden attention, his face reddening as he notices that Todoroki looks… stunned. But Todoroki recovers quickly, flashing a small smile.
“Thanks,” he says. “I guess there are drawbacks to using my fire in a cold environment that I hadn’t considered.” He flexes his left hand, and Izuku’s gaze is drawn to it, watching as the steam rolls off his left in wisps of vapor.
Izuku flounders momentarily, Todoroki’s smile disarming him in the worst way, and manages to stutter out a “n-no problem!” before Todoroki’s expression neutralizes and he rushes out in front of Izuku, unleashing an ice shield that protects him from the other team’s retaliation.
Izuku laughs nervously, realizing that he was the target, that time. “Thanks,” he squeaks.
“Now we’re even,” Todoroki says, completely deadpan, and Izuku can’t help the giggle that escapes his chest. He doesn’t know if Todoroki is kidding or not when he says things like that—he’s reminded of the time Todoroki insisted he had some kind of “hand crushing” curse—but the tone makes Izuku laugh nonetheless.
A fresh cloud of steam envelops them both, and Izuku thinks that maybe Todoroki is pleased that he made someone laugh, because there’s a light dusting of pink on his cheeks that might just be a blush.
Before his thoughts run away with him, the cloud dissipates, and Todoroki nods. “Ready?”
Izuku assumes a fighting stance, the energy of One for All crackling along his limbs, and grins. “Ready.”
Todoroki melts the ice shield. The two of them duck under the first volley of snowballs, and then Todoroki melts the next wave as Izuku gathers an armful of projectiles. As the fire clears, Izuku takes the lead, throwing snowball after snowball with deadly force and manic glee.
As the sun dips lower toward the horizon, the two of them fight side-by-side, finding a perfect rhythm. Izuku packs two snowballs as Todoroki protects them with his left; he tosses one to Todoroki, who catches it in his right hand, and as soon as the fire dissipates, they send them flying. They work in sync, already understanding the other’s fighting style, even in such a mundane setting. Izuku thinks that he can’t be the only one reminded of their fight against the Hero Killer—but he shakes that thought away in favor of aiming a snowball at Kacchan’s face.
He’s not sure how long they’ve been at it, but by sunset, Izuku is freezing, wet from so much snow melting down his coat. Bakugou declares the match in his team’s favor, proudly expressing their superiority over Izuku’s team, but they all had fun, so Izuku can’t help but think of it as a tie.
Shivering but content, their ragtag group of snowball fighters tromps back to the dorms, laughing as they recall their best hits against the other team. Behind the girls, Izuku and Todoroki walk in step with one another, Izuku laughing at Uraraka and Jirou’s theatrics in front of them. He’s startled when he feels Todoroki, to his right, put a hand on his shoulder.
Izuku blushes immediately, and looks at him with wide eyes, but he quickly understands as he begins to feel warmth soaking into his coat, his skin, his body. He sighs at the sensation. And probably blushes even more. He can barely keep track anymore.
“You’re shivering,” Todoroki informs him.
Izuku laughs awkwardly, nervous at their proximity, but feeling much too good to move. But he summons a grateful smile. “Thanks, Todoroki.”
Todoroki nods, leaving his hand there as they approach the dorms once more.
Once inside, Kirishima insists on making them all a mug of hot chocolate as they warm up, and Yaoyorozu lights a fire in the lounge’s hearth. The room warms up fast, and Izuku almost wants to tell them to knock it off when Todoroki takes his warm hand from Izuku’s shoulder. They all shed their coats and scarves and hats and gloves, crowding around the fireplace with mugs of cocoa in their hands, joking and laughing. Izuku feels warm all over, and not just because he’s sitting to Todoroki’s left. The force of gratitude he feels toward his friends, for the camaraderie and love that suffuses their class, is suddenly overwhelming, and in the middle of it all, Izuku begins to cry. It’s only a few tears, and no one looks twice—at least, until he notices Todoroki watching him carefully, a concerned pinch to his brows.
He leans in, speaking quietly. “Is everything okay? You’re crying.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku sees Uraraka giving the two of them an interested glance, but she looks away before he can read her face. He wipes the tears away quickly with the back of his hand, smiling through the blush rising in his cheeks. “It’s nothing, really! I’m just…” he looks around at the gathering of friends; at Sero and Kaminari reenacting Bakugou getting hit in the face; at Iida’s animated arm movements as he talks to Tsuyu; at Jirou, holding hands with Yaoyorozu on the couch; and back at Todoroki, the concern in his eyes—for Izuku!—and the worried set of his mouth. “I’m really happy, that’s all.”
He seems to accept this, giving Izuku a nod, even if he still looks a bit puzzled. Then, stiffly, as if unsure what to do, he lifts his hand, placing it gently on Izuku’s shoulder and giving him an awkward pat of reassurance. Izuku freezes, his posture straightening and his cheeks igniting in a blush (one that never seems to leave his face, nowadays), but Todoroki lowers his hand again, placing it back in his lap. What was that about? Izuku wonders, his anxiety-ridden mind already embarrassed at his reaction. But Todoroki says, quietly, sheepishly, “that was the first time I’ve ever been in a snowball fight.”
Izuku’s disbelief cuts through his embarrassment as he turns back to his friend. “It—it was?”
“Yeah. I didn’t get a lot of time to… play with other kids, when I was younger. This was… fun.”
At his confession, Izuku grins widely, tears forgotten. “I’m so glad! You know, I was never really in many either, since whenever I tried to join, Kacchan and all the others would usually gang up on me, but now, with you guys… well, we get those chances again. It’s almost like… we can do the things we missed out on as kids! And we can even do it with quirks, since we’re on U.A. grounds!”
The soft smile Todoroki gives in return is like a punch straight to Izuku’s heart, bringing the fierce blush right back to his cheeks. “Yeah,” he agrees.
Around them, the group continues its chatter—although, a couple of times, Izuku catches Uraraka glancing his way with an expression of mischief that worries him—and it isn’t too long before everyone realizes that, woah, it’s getting late, and no one has done their homework yet! So, one by one, the lounge begins to empty.
He walks up the stairs with Todoroki, as he often does, until they arrive at the second floor landing. Izuku bids his friend goodnight and steps out into the hallway, but he’s stopped in his tracks when, behind him, Todoroki clears his throat.
“Midoriya?” Todoroki asks.
Heart pounding, Izuku turns. “Yeah?”
“Thanks. For what you said earlier, I mean. About… doing the things we couldn’t do as kids.”
Izuku is struck speechless. Moments like this, when Todoroki gives Izuku a look into his mind, a look at the things he dwells on, are few and far between—and all the more precious for it. So Izuku can’t say he’s surprised as his own eyes begin to fill with tears once again. He takes a step back toward Todoroki—should he hug him? Would that be weird? They’ve never hugged before—and fixes him with the most reassuring smile he can muster. “Todoroki,” he says. “You and… and m-me. We may not have had… perfect childhoods. A-and, I know, ours weren’t the same at all. B-but. You don’t have to worry about missing out anymore. We—you and me and everybody in our class—we’re friends. And… we get to do all the stuff that friends do, now, you know? I—I don’t know if that made much sense, I’m kind of rambling now, but I hope you know I’m here—I’m here for you.” Oh jeez that was a weird thing to say, now Izuku’s face is all red again, and he totally can’t look at Todoroki.
“Thank you,” Todoroki repeats.
“A-anytime!” Izuku fidgets with his hands as Todoroki gives him a nod, turns around, and heads up the stairs toward the fifth floor.
He stands there, in the second floor hallway, trying to regain some semblance of control over his emotions—does he want to cry or laugh?—until Aoyama pokes his head out of his room with a smile.
“Quoi are you thinking about, Midoriya?”
Aoyama’s voice startles Izuku, and he lets out a little yelp before slapping his hand over his mouth. “H-hey Aoyama! Um. What’s—what’s up?”
Aoyama watches him fidget with his hands awkwardly. “You seem… emotionally troubled, non?”
“Me?” Izuku squeaks, then tries to lower his voice. “I mean… me?”
“Love will do that, will it not?” Aoyama winks, and disappears behind his door once more, leaving Izuku to stutter and protest into an empty hallway.
“L-love? What—what are you talking about? Aoyama? A-Aoyama??”
He knocks on his door a few times to no avail. So—floundering, embarrassed—Izuku zips back to his room, closes the door, and, like any other embarrassed teen, collapses onto his bed and screams into his pillow.