Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, every child dreamed of being a superhero. It was nothing more than a fantasy, something that occupied their thoughts during bedtime or while engrossed in books, TV shows, or video games.

However, everything changed when a glowing baby came into the world. From that moment on, people all across the globe began to exhibit extraordinary powers. They referred to these abilities as Meta Abilities initially.

As the phenomenon of Meta Abilities spread, some individuals saw an opportunity to use their powers for personal gain, giving rise to the first villains. Alongside them, there were those who wished to utilize their powers to assist the vulnerable, thus giving birth to the vigilantes.

Now, over 200 years have passed since the birth of the glowing baby, and a staggering 80% of the world’s population possesses these unique powers, now known as quirks. Consequently, a new profession has emerged. The Pro Heroes. These individuals are authorized to use their quirks to safeguard civilians and uphold justice, becoming revered as paragons of justice.

Fame, popularity, wealth. The best heroes in the world have it all. In the present day, children continue to dream of becoming heroes, perhaps more so than ever before. 

Izuku is no exception. But he harbors very different reasons for pursuing this path.

Todoroki Izuku, the youngest son of Todoroki Enji, also known as the Flame Hero: Endeavor, Number two hero of Japan. He’s also the younger twin brother of Todoroki Shouto. Many would assume that Izuku is a spoiled brat, growing up in a life of privilege without ever facing hardships. To those people, Izuku would give a laugh and a middle finger.

The truth, however, is far from their assumptions. Endeavor is an abusive individual, despised by his entire family. Except for Fuyumi, whom Izuku is almost sure his sister is actually the reincarnation of Buddha.

Izuku’s desire to become a hero is fueled by three core reasons, each holding significant meaning for him.

The first reason stems from his deep concern for his brother, Shouto. Shouto has been Enji’s prized creation since birth, subjected to extreme training and pushed beyond his limits. It’s nothing short of abuse, although Endeavor dismisses it as necessary training. His twin is not even allowed to interact with his siblings.

Meanwhile, Izuku and his older siblings, regarded as failures by their father, are constantly overlooked and neglected. Izuku yearns for Enji’s attention, not for his own sake, but to divert the man’s focus away from Shouto, even if only for a brief respite. The thought of becoming heroes together offers Izuku a way to support and protect his brother from their father’s torment.

The second reason is that he needs power. By becoming a great hero in the future, society will have to listen to Izuku. With the influence, he intends to expose every single one of Endeavor’s crimes and make him pay for the pain he has inflicted upon their family. Without power, Izuku can’t touch Endeavor, but he’s a patient person. He already waited 15 years. He can wait a bit more.

The third reason is born out of simple spite. As Izuku steps through the towering gates of UA for the entrance exam, he can’t shake the memory of Enji’s words when he announced that Shouto would be taking the recommendation exam. Izuku realizes that his father could have recommended him as well if he had chosen to do so. Yet, he was discarded without consideration. Enji’s hurtful words echo in his mind: 

“You’ll never be a hero with this puny quirk, boy. Give up on this foolish dream.”  

Frowning, Izuku is fueled by determination and defiance.

“Watch me, father .” He spits out, determined to prove Enji wrong.

As Izuku’s mind drifts towards thoughts of his father, a twinge of pain radiates from the scar around his right eye, typically hidden under his messy hair. The discomfort further sours Izuku’s already somber mood. 

Taking a deep breath, he brings his left hand upwards, gently massaging the scarred area with his cool fingers. Not exactly a recommended action with a burn scar, but the discomfort eases a bit, so it’s a win in his books. 

To any onlooker, Izuku appears impassive, even disinterested. This couldn’t be any further from the truth, though. Izuku’s eyes are trained, scanning all hero hopefuls, identifying possible quirks, and then identifying the ones that seem to be the biggest threats.

As Izuku observes the array of impressive quirks on display, he can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment in the attitudes of some of his fellow examinees. One particular blonde boy catches his attention, rudely pushing past him while shouting to “get out of the way, extra!” How arrogant. Who does he think he is? The protagonist of a Shounen manga? 

Shaking his head to dismiss the encounter, Izuku continues on, striding towards the designated examination site. He refuses to let the rude encounter distract him from his goal. Arriving at his assigned desk, he takes a moment to steady himself, his determination unwavering.

The written exam proves to be relatively easy for Izuku. While Endeavor may be an abusive and neglectful father, he never neglected his children’s education. Izuku finds himself well-prepared, to the point that he finishes answering with over two hours to spare. After checking his answers two more times, he hands over the test and leaves.

When it’s time, Izuku proceeds to the auditorium, where the practical exam will be explained, finding himself seated next to the same arrogant blonde from earlier. Surprisingly, the blonde seems more engrossed in listening to the instructions than causing any trouble, much to Izuku’s relief.

A few minutes later, Present Mic takes the stage, and though Izuku maintains a neutral expression, his inner fanboy is in complete overdrive. Endeavor despises Present Mic, so of course, Izuku loves him. Not only does Izuku appreciate Present Mic’s persona as a hero, but he also genuinely enjoys listening to the hero’s radio show.

Lost in his admiration, Izuku’s attention momentarily drifts from the explanation. However, he manages to grasp the basics—destroy the robots, accumulate points worth 1, 2, or 3, and strive to earn as many points as possible. Thanks to a blue-haired individual who abruptly interrupts Present Mic, accusing him of a mistake and then berating a nervous examinee for muttering (wait, was he talking to me?) , Izuku also becomes aware of the need to avoid the 0-Pointer robot.

With everything in mind, Izuku heads to the vestiary to change into more suitable attire for physical exertion. Despite the spring season bringing warmer temperatures, he decides to don a heavy coat, gloves, and scarf over his workout clothes. Izuku knew he’d need the extra protection against the cold for this exam, so he prepared himself accordingly.

Following the other examinees, Izuku boards the bus that will transport them to the mock city where the practical exam will take place. Silence blankets the interior of the bus, with each individual lost in their thoughts. It’s evident that UA has purposely split up students from the same schools to prevent them from teaming up.

While Izuku is sure that teamwork is allowed - or at least there was no rule saying it wasn’t - he knows it’s very unlikely to see it happening. Not only would the people need to team up with a complete stranger, but everyone is competing against one another for points. He doesn’t expect to witness much camaraderie during this test.

Stepping off the bus and facing the imposing gates of the mock city, Izuku wastes no time in starting his warm-up stretches, preparing his body for the forthcoming test. As he focuses on the gate, he notices several examinees finally gathering the courage to strike up conversations. A bad time for that, but whatever.

Among the sea of examinees, a few catch Izuku’s attention. There’s a six-armed boy wearing a face mask, a girl with what appears to be headphones on, a tail-bearing boy radiating strength, and a very short boy with what seems to be purple balls atop his head, who can’t seem to take his eyes off the girls. The last one earns a scowl from Izuku. recognizing the rudeness of such behavior. But there’s not much he can do at the moment. It’s not like staring is illegal, despite being extremely rude.

Izuku notices the gates starting to open and maneuvers himself to stand in front of the group. As soon as the space is large enough to pass through, he begins to run.

“Start!” He hears a voice followed by a growl. “What are you waiting for pups? Real life doesn’t have countdowns.”

As the crowd starts to run, Izuku is almost to the first group of robots. Activating his quirk, Cold Snap, he feels the cold traveling through his body and guides it down towards his feet. With a resounding stomp on the ground, ice spreads rapidly, transforming the streets into a huge skating rink. And Izuku is an excellent skater.

Reaching the first group, he stops in the middle of them and starts spinning, spreading his arms. An icy wind spreads from his hands, and quickly, the robots freeze and stop moving. The group had three 1-pointers, one 2-pointer, and two 3-pointers, immediately earning him 11 points and the confirmation that none of the robots are cold-resistant.

This makes things a lot easier.

Utilizing one of the newly created ice sculptures as support, Izuku propels himself forward, gliding gracefully in search of the next group of robots. Before long, he comes across a second cluster consisting of multiple 2-Pointers. With a leap, he dives into their midst, his feet touching the ground, causing ice to spread rapidly across the surface. The robots lose their footing, slipping and falling onto the icy floor. Seizing the opportunity, Izuku swiftly touches one of the fallen robots, allowing the ice to spread and immobilize the entire group, earning him eight additional points.

From there, he continues skating while searching for and freezing more robots. At some point, he ends up losing count of how many points he has scored. Specifically, because he finds the purple midget from before trying to grab onto the ass of another examinee. And by the look on the girl’s face, she’s definitely not enjoying the situation.

Without hesitation, Izuku veers towards them, “accidentally” bumping into the dwarf. For a brief moment, his grip on his quirk “slips,” resulting in the pervert’s legs being encased in ice. 

“Oops. Sorry. The ice will melt in about ten minutes.” Izuku deadpans before resuming his skating, deliberately disregarding the boy’s indignant protests.

Maybe he should have frozen him out completely.

Izuku is about to look for more robots when he hears an announcement echoing through the streets.

“Two minutes left.”

Do I have enough points? I should try to get a few more just to be sure.

However, his plans are abruptly disrupted by the sudden tremors shaking the ground beneath him. Turning his attention towards the source, Izuku’s eyes widen as he witnesses a horde of students frantically fleeing from an enormous robot that looms behind them. The colossal machine, towering over the simulated city’s buildings, is in hot pursuit.

And, of course, something that size can’t get through the streets without causing chaos and destruction. The robot slams into the buildings, knocking debris everywhere and causing millions of Yen in collateral damage.

Good to know where all the tuition money goes. Izuku thinks as he eyes the giant robot, unimpressed.

As the panicked crowd rushes past him, oblivious to his presence, Izuku watches the debris fall with a sigh, a small cloud escaping his mouth in the cold air. Taking a moment to assess himself, he notices his trembling but no frost coating his limbs yet, indicating that he is still at Stage 2 of his quirk. This should be easy enough.

He can’t just leave this thing alone. It might not be worth any points, but a robot this big is bound to hurt someone on accident. Not to mention that this thing will be really annoying if Izuku just lets it keep wreaking havoc.

Moving against the flow of the crowd, Izuku positions himself a few meters away from the towering robot. As soon as the behemoth’s attention locks onto him, it prepares to strike with a powerful punch. However, Izuku closes his eyes, embracing the icy wind of his quirk as it envelops his entire body.

Rapidly dropping temperatures transform the surrounding air, causing frost and fog to form. The atmosphere swirls around Izuku, creating a vortex of snow that lifts him slightly off the ground. Opening his eyes, he thrusts his arms forward, directing the vortex towards the colossal robot.

“BLIZZARD!” He yells as the vortex envelops the 0-pointer.

The temperature plummets down, and the robot begins to creak and slow down. The robot’s green plating begins to lose coloration, quickly turning white as a crust of ice forms around it. When the vortex finally breaks up, the 0-pointer has become a giant block of ice.

Safely landing on the ground, Izuku breathes out a cold breath, noticing frost starting to form on his left arm. He lightly pats it to rid himself of the ice and turns his attention elsewhere. 

“Now, let’s find a few more robots.” He mutters, ready to resume his search.

Just then, the announcement echoes through the air, declaring. “TIME’S UP!” 

Izuku’s heart sinks, realizing that he can only hope he got enough points to get in.

With a sigh of relief, Izuku begins to make his way out of the chaotic scene, taking note of an old woman who starts offering assistance to anyone who may be injured. Fortunately, Izuku is unharmed, so he decides not to linger and take up her time. Although a part of him wishes he could ask for Recovery Girl’s autograph, he knows better than to interrupt a healer’s duties.

Arriving at the vestiary, Izuku reaches into his bag and retrieves a pair of mittens and a snow hat. As he puts on the winter accessories, he starts his journey home. Rubbing his hands on his arms in an attempt to generate warmth, Izuku walks briskly. The only thing he wants at the moment is a mug of hot chocolate and his electric blanket.

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In the Todoroki household, one well-known fact is that Endeavor has the sleeping routine of a hermit and that the man sleeps like a rock. For Shouto, this knowledge means that the safest time to leave his room without the risk of running into his father is around midnight.

Cautiously, Shouto opens his door, mindful of any telltale signs indicating Endeavor’s wakefulness. Once he confirms that his father is still sound asleep, he proceeds towards the kitchen, taking slow and silent steps to avoid making any noise.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Shouto briefly checks the cupboards, relieved to find all the necessary ingredients at his disposal. In swift succession, he gathers milk, cocoa powder, granulated sugar, vanilla extract, and marshmallows. 

Shouto isn’t exactly a genius in the kitchen - on the contrary, he’s a disaster - but preparing a delicious hot cocoa is a skill that all the Todoroki siblings have mastered, a secret they have been keeping from Endeavor for several years.

With everything in hand, Shouto prepares two mugs, meticulously washing any dishes used and ensuring that no trace of his activities remains visible. One mug is filled solely with the hot cocoa mixture, while the other is garnished with a generous topping of marshmallows.

Balancing the two mugs carefully in a tray, Shouto approaches his younger twin’s room, his steps deliberate yet gentle, preserving the tranquility of the night. Standing before the closed door, he raises his other hand and delivers a series of knocks, following a practiced pattern ingrained in their secret routine. Two quick knocks followed by three harder ones.

After a few seconds, Shouto hears a distinct pattern of knocks on the wooden floor emanating from inside the room. A single hard knock, followed by four quick ones. This distinctive rhythm serves as their secret code, a signal between brothers that holds deep meaning and familiarity. That’s their way to announce their presence to each other and to reassure that the one on the other side of the door isn’t Endeavor.

With a sigh of relief, he opens the door and steps inside. As expected, he finds Izuku nestled in his bed, with his electric blanket draped around his shoulders in an effort to ward off the shivers. Though the smaller boy doesn’t appear any paler than usual, the incessant trembling raises concern.

“What stage?” Shouto asks, setting the tray with the mugs on the bedside table before passing the one with marshmallows to Izuku.

“I went into stage 3.” Izuku replies, taking a comforting sip of the hot cocoa. “But I’m back to stage 1 now.”

“Stage 3?” Shouto raises an eyebrow in concern. “Why did you push yourself that far?”

“There was a giant robot causing havoc.” Izuku shrugs, holding the warm mug close to his face. “But it’s okay. I entered stage 3 only briefly, and there was minimal frost.”

Shouto pushes his worry aside, choosing to focus on comforting his younger brother instead. He wraps his left arm around Izuku’s shoulder, pulling him into a gentle side hug. Despite his own reservations about his left side, he knows that it can provide warmth for Izuku. As the comforting embrace and the hot cocoa work their magic, Izuku gradually relaxes, his trembling subsiding.

“Giant robot, huh?” Shouto inquires. “Is that where all the tuition money goes?”

“Maybe.” Izuku chuckles. “Or maybe Nedzu secretly controls the global stock market and uses the funds to fuel the school’s craziness.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s true.” Shouto responds with a hint of amusement. “You see, every major upgrade UA has undergone since Nedzu became Principal coincided with certain companies skyrocketing on the stock market within a span of two months.”

“This might be the first time I actually believe in one of your theories.” Izuku replies, amused.

“My theories make perfect sense.” Shouto asserts, playfully pointing a finger at his brother.

“Even the one about the elf with The Infinite Snacks quirk?” Izuku raises an eyebrow, unable to resist the opportunity to prod further. 

A mischievous smile spreads across Izuku’s face as he waits for his brother’s response.

“The elf is real, and I’ll find them one day.” Shouto remains unwavering in his belief, his tone laced with conviction. “I always find snacks mysteriously hidden in my room after training sessions. Where else could they come from?”

Izuku plays along, pretending to ponder the possibility. 

“Hmm... I don’t know... Maybe... Fuyumi?” He suggests, his teasing tone evident. “I don’t think she’s an elf.”

“No, she’s a saint.” Shouto shakes his head in disagreement, defending their sister with a fond smile. “And the only thing holding this family together.”

“And sometimes I wish she would stop.” Izuku sighs, sombering. “Endeavor doesn’t deserve it.”

Shouto shakes his head and decides to change the subject.

“So, you think you passed?” He asks.

“Can’t be sure.” Izuku shrugs, uncertainty etched on his face. “I defeated a lot of robots, but I lost count at some point. I think I ended up with over 40 points. I hope it’s enough.”

“And what about the giant robot?” Shouto raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Worthless.” Izuku dismisses it with a shake of his head. “It was meant to be an obstacle, not something to fight or defeat. I doubt the school expected anyone to even try.”

“Of course, you would risk pushing yourself into Stage 3 for no gain.” A smile tugs at the corner of Shouto’s lips as he shakes his head. “Only you, Izuku.”

“Your words don’t match your tone.” Izuku points. “You’re proud.”

“If Endeavor is too stupid to see how proud he should be of you, then it’s my responsibility as your big brother to pick up the slack.” Shouto states, ruffling Izuku’s hair affectionately.

Izuku pouts, but a blush spreads across his cheeks, betraying his true feelings. 

“You’re, like, three minutes older.” He retorts, but the affection in his voice is evident.

“Still older.” Shouto smirks, savoring the moment.

“Yeah, I know.” Izuku admits, shaking his head. “Love you, Nii-Chan.”

Chapter Text

The mood at the Todoroki residence is much lighter than usual. The day after Izuku's entrance exam, Endeavor is called to a mission in another city. Without Endeavor on their tail, Izuku and Shouto don't have to hide their closeness. Fuyumi doesn't have to walk on eggshells at all times. Shouto doesn't have to train until he vomits, passes out, or both. And Izuku can train without having to hide it from his father.

In short, everything is better in the house when Endeavor is away.

It’s amidst this newfound sense of peace that Izuku's letter from UA arrives. Izuku expected to have to hide in his room to open it without Endeavor knowing, but since he's not there, Izuku opens it in the living room with Shouto and Fuyumi. Even Natsuo is with them via video call.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku gingerly opens the envelope, only to be surprised as a disk-shaped device tumbles out, unlike Shouto's acceptance letter, which arrived in the traditional paper format. This distinction piques Izuku's curiosity.

The disk then projects a hologram of a hero very familiar to all of Japan. His booming voice fills the living room as he proclaims. 

“I AM HERE. AS A PROJECTION!” Izuku has to hold himself from frowning at the image.

It’s not that he dislikes All Might. He has a shrine dedicated to the hero in his room. But the only reason he has that is because he knows how much it annoys Endeavor to even see the hero’s colors.

The truth is that Izuku isn’t a fan of All Might. It’s not that he doesn’t see him as a good hero, he will be the first to admit he deserves the number one spot. But All Might is also the object of Endeavor’s obsession, and even if the hero is not the one to blame, the reason for Endeavor’s abuse and neglect. Izuku just can’t bring himself to like him. It’s petty and childish, but Izuku never claimed to be an example of virtue.

Shaking his head, Izuku focuses back on the hologram. All eyes are fixed on the holographic image as All Might continues. 

“Young Todoroki, you must be wondering why I'm on your UA card. It's quite simple. Starting this year, I will be joining as a new teacher in the Hero Course. But let's get down to business. You, Young Todoroki, have achieved an impressive score of 93% in the written exam. Needless to say, you passed with flying colors. In fact, your score got you second place in the hero course regular written exam ranking, and fourth place overall.”

A collective gasp of surprise and pride fills the room, but All Might isn't finished yet. He excitedly declares. 

“Now, let's talk about the practical exam. You scored a remarkable total of 43 villain points, a score that alone would secure your admission. BUT THERE'S MORE! Look at this recording!” The video first shows Izuku freezing the purple dwarf on the floor to get him away from the girl he was harassing. Then it shows a clip of Izuku freezing the 0-pointer. His Blizzard attack also freezes the toppling buildings which stops them from falling. “You fought the 0-pointer even knowing it wouldn’t offer you any gain. Your actions protected a lot of people who could have gotten hurt had this robot not been stopped. What kind of hero school wouldn’t reward such heroic behavior? That’s why we have…” Dramatic pause. “RESCUE POINTS! Your actions awarded you 36 rescue points, bringing your overall score to 79. This score puts you in first place on the entrance exam. Congratulations Young Todoroki, and welcome. THIS IS YOUR HERO ACADEMIA!”

As the recording comes to an end, Izuku is left in a state of disbelief, his eyes fixed on the holographic disk as he tries to process the magnitude of what he has just witnessed. Suddenly, Shouto pulls him into a tight embrace, overwhelming him with warmth and pride.

“I knew you could do it.” Shouto whispers, his typically neutral voice infused with undeniable pride.

“I did it. I did it!” Tears well up in Izuku's eyes as he repeats in a hushed voice, almost to himself.

Without a doubt, this calls for celebration. They all gather together, basking in the glow of Izuku's acceptance. Even Natsuo manages to make an appearance, making the effort to leave his college dorms to personally congratulate Izuku. Fuyumi prepares Izuku's favorite spicy Katsudon, and together, they create an impromptu celebration in the Todoroki household. It may not be a grand party, but the atmosphere is filled with pure happiness and genuine camaraderie.

For Izuku, this night becomes a cherished memory, a moment where he feels an overwhelming sense of joy that had been absent for far too long. Not even the return of Endeavor the next day can diminish the happiness that radiates from within their family.

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Classes haven’t even started and Shouta already knows that this year is going to be hell. Why on earth did he let Zashi and Nemuri talk him into becoming a teacher? And what's worse is that after the stunt Shouta pulled last year, expelling his entire class before the first month of school, he's not allowed to expel more than two students before the end of the semester. As much as Nedzu loves chaos, he wants to avoid having to answer 20 more lawsuits right at the beginning of the year.

Well, at least his class this year looks promising. The problem is that it's clearly filled with problem children. As usual, Shouta hasn't read his students' records beyond their names and quirks. This is something he only does after the first day to avoid a biased first impression.

Even that doesn't stop him from noticing some worrying things about two of his students right away. And to make matters worse, they are both children of hero number two. Two twin brothers and both have burn scars on their faces. If that isn't a giant red flag Shouta will eat his capture weapon. 

For now, the only thing he can do is keep an eye on them.

After downing his seventh cup of coffee, Shouta takes a moment to collect himself, while ignoring the glare Zashi sends his way. His husband has been trying to curb his caffeine intake with no success for quite some time now. 

Then Shouta grabs his trusty sleeping bag and makes his way to the classroom. Stopping right on the corner to get in, he crawls to the classroom. Right away he is disappointed to see two students at the door talking. Uraraka Ochako and Iida Tenya. The two are so deep in conversation that they don't even notice when Shouta opens the door and crawls into the room. And Uraraka is facing the door.

However, to his pleasant surprise, three students noticed him. The Todoroki twins both lock their eyes on him as soon as the door opens. And then Shinsou Hitoshi notices him a moment later as Shouta crawls to the podium. Maybe a few students have potential this year.

 Taking a few more moments to let the suspense build, Shouta begins to emerge from his sleeping bag.

“If you're here to make friends, I suggest you leave now.” Shouta declares, instantly silencing the class. “This is the hero course.” He struggles to suppress a laugh at the bewildered expressions on their faces as he stands up. “Except for three of you, no one noticed me here. If I were a villain, you'd all be dead.” The room remains shrouded in silence, the students still recovering from their initial shock.

“My name is Aizawa Shouta, and I will be your homeroom teacher from now on.” he continues, maintaining his authoritative tone. “It may be sudden, but put on these uniforms and meet me at the P.E. field.” Retrieving a stack of P.E. uniforms from within the sleeping bag, he distributes them to the students. “You have ten minutes. Anyone who arrives late will have detention.”

With those final instructions, Shouta turns and exits the room, closing the door behind him. He lingers for a moment, observing to see if anyone hesitates. Once the coast is clear, he can't help but overhear a conversation just outside.

“How can someone be so stealthy while dressed like a highlighter?” One student remarks.

“It's more like a psychotic caterpillar.” Another chimes in.

“I cannot stress enough how little that changes my initial question.” The first one adds.

Shouta has to hide his face in his capture weapon to stop himself from grinning like a psychopath as he makes his way to the P.E. field.

He arrives at the P.E. field and waits for the students. The first to arrive are again Shinsou Hitoshi, who seems to be doing his best to look invisible, and the Todoroki twins who walk close to each other but don't talk or even look at each other. It's hard to read these two. Shouta can't tell if they are close or hate each other.

The other students take much longer to arrive, and they all enter together, some probably got dressed faster than others but still preferred to wait to come as a group. Shouta lets out a sigh. He's going to have a lot of work ahead of him. Once everyone is there, Shouta sends the group of excited teenagers a glare. 

“You waste too much time. Next time I want all of you here in half the time.” He says. “Now, we are for a Quirk Assessment Test.”

“But sir, what about the entrance ceremony and orientation?” Uraraka asks.

Shouta sighs again at the interruption.

“You are here to be heroes. You can’t waste time with those lazy activities.” The actual reason is that Shouta hates Nedzu’s lengthy speeches, but they don’t need to know that. “Todoroki.”

“Yes, Sensei?” Both Todorokis reply at the same time.

“This will be confusing…” Shouta mutters. “Todoroki Izuku.” The white-haired boy takes a step forward. “You got first place in the entrance exam. How far could you throw a ball in middle school?”

The boy ponders for a few seconds.

“About 65 meters.” He replies. “You can call me Izuku, by the way. It’ll make things easier.”

Shouta nods and throws a softball at him. “Do it with your quirk.”

“Err… That’s a bad idea, Sir.” The boy replies. “I can only think of one way of using my quirk to improve a ball throw, and if I do it, I won’t be able to use my quirk anymore without risks to my own health.”

At least he knows his limits. That’s good.

“Alright. In this case. Bakugou, you got the most villain points. How far could you throw?” Bakugou steps forward confidently. 

“67 meters.” He states as he takes hold of the ball and enters the circle.

“Anything goes as long as you stay in the circle.” Shouta explains.

“In this case.” Bakugou winds up his arm, ready to launch the ball. “DIE!!!!” He exclaims, infusing his throw with an explosion.

“Die!?” Someone asks in surprise.

A few seconds later, the measurement sensor displays a score of 705.2 meters.

“Throughout the day, all of you will be competing on 8 different tests.” Shouta explains.

The class bursts into excited muttering.

“We can use our quirk however we want to? That’s amazing.”

“This is going to be so much fun.”

“As expected from UA.”

Shouta feels no remorse for dampening their enthusiasm, especially when he hears someone mention how “fun” it will be.

“Fun, huh.” He says. “You think this is just a game? What happened to becoming heroes? If you’re not taking this seriously, let’s up the stakes. Whoever places last in those tests will be considered without potential and expelled on the spot.”

“WHAT!?”

“You can’t do that! We fought hard to be here!”

“That’s unfair!”

“Fair?” Shouta growls. “Tell me, are natural disasters fair? Are villain attacks fair? Is society fair? Nothing in life is fair. The sooner you learn that, the better. You have three years to prepare yourselves to become heroes who will combat these injustices. I won't waste my time on individuals who show no potential. So if you want to stay, prove to me that you deserve it. Remember where you are. This is UA, 'Plus Ultra' and all that.”

Despite Shouta’s words being pretty much the opposite of a pep talk, it seems that this is the effect they have. All students get this determined expression which actually manages to impress Shouta. Maybe he finally got a class with potential.

“The first test will be the 50-meter Dash.” He declares. “Here’s the pairings...”

Shouta observes as the students take the tests, carefully measuring not only their scores but also how creative they are in each test. It makes him wonder what kind of shoes Izuku wears that allow him to skate so easily in the ice rink he creates. He gets a pretty good score beating Bakugou by a small margin. Unsurprisingly, Iida takes first place in this test.

At the Grip Strength test, Shouji Mezou easily gets first place. Izuku tries using his quirk to tamper with the circuits, but he ends up causing a malfunction and his score ends up at zero. Shouta will still commend him on the creativity of his attempt, despite having backfired.

Many students manage to clear the sandbox in the Standing Long Jump. Izuku almost manages to, but he still lands within the sandbox. The Repeated Side Steps have most students doing it without using their quirks since very few would help. Izuku skates all the way during the Endurance Run tying with Yaoyorozu for first.

Then it’s time for the Ball Throw. The best scores in class for this one are Yaoyorozu who creates a cannon to throw the ball, Bakugou, and Uraraka who blows everyone’s score to the space - literally - earning an infinite. The last one is Izuku who grabs the ball and steps into the circle.

“Sensei, the tests left are the Seated Toe Touch, and Sit Ups, right?” The white-haired boy asks.

“That’s right.” Shouta nods.

“I can’t use my quirk in either of those.” He says, closing his eyes. “Then I can go all out here.”

As he says that, Shouta can feel the temperature dropping as an icy wind starts swirling around the boy. The swirling turns into a vortex and the boy sends it ahead. Then he throws the ball into the vortex.

The force of the vortex sends the ball rocketing along at high speed, but Izuku’s aim is way off. The ball flies straight at a window on the second floor, smashing through it. The white-haired boy blinks a few times.

“Oops?” A cloud of cold breath leaves his mouth as he brings his right arm, slightly covered in frost, to the back of his head.

A moment later, Zashi sticks his head out of the broken window.

“ WELP! THIS TIME I’M INNOCENT! ” He yells with his quirk activated.

Despite the bad aim, it’s still an impressive result. UA’s windows are made to withstand the full power of Zashi’s quirk. If Izuku could break those, then Shouta can easily put his throw in third or second place. The trick was also pretty clever. He just needs to work on his aim.

When Shouta turns around, many students are gapping at what just happened. 

“I was too far away to really see what he did at the exam, but damn....” Jirou comments.

“Let’s move on. We have two more tests.” Shouta says, ushering the students inside for the two last tests.

As they walk, he notices Todoroki Shouto discreetly approaching his brother.

“Did you really have to go that far?” He asks. “Now you are at Stage 3 for a while.”

“W-w-w-w-worth i-i-i-i-i-i-it” The boy replies between chattering teeth.

Despite the clear shivering, he doesn’t seem that affected by the cold. His movements aren’t any slower than before. Shouta will really have to read his file later.

The last two tests pass without much fuss. To no one's surprise, Asui takes first place in the Seated Toe Touch. Izuku ends up in the bottom half of the score on that one. The boy doesn't have much flexibility. On the other hand, he shows immense stamina in the sit-ups, getting one of the highest scores.

Once all tests are finished, Shouta gathers the students and shows them their scores.

01st Yaoyorozu Momo 

02nd Todoroki Shoto

03rd Bakugou Katsuki 

04th Iida Tenya

05th Tokoyami Fumikage

06th Shouji Mezou

07th Todoroki Izuku

08th Ojiro Mashirao 

09th Kirishima Eijiro

10th Ashido Mina 

11th Uraraka Ochako

12th Kouda Koji

13th Satou Rikido

14th Asui Tsuyu 

15th Aoyama Yuga 

16th Sero Hanta

17th Kaminari Denki

18th Shinsou Hitoshi

19th Jirou Kyoka 

20th Hagakure Tooru

Now; Shouta isn’t as heartless as some might think, so he does feel slightly bad as he hears Hagakure crying once she sees she came last.

“Now, about the expulsion.” He starts. “No one is getting expelled today.” He gives the class a grin. “It was a logical ruse to make you give your all.”

He ignores the outburst of the class, and once more has to hold himself from laughing at Yaoyorozu when she says it was obvious. His last class certainly doesn't agree with that.

“There are handouts with the curriculum and such in the classroom so when you get back, look over them.” Shouta says. “And Izuku.” The white-haired boy turns to him. “Put on a coat or something. Don’t worry about the dress code.”

“Yes, Sensei.” The boy nods.

“Tomorrow will be filled with even more demanding tests. Prepare yourselves.” Shouta concludes, before leaving the field.

Of course, as he goes, he has to find one more Buffon.

“You have the stealth skills of a pink elephant.” Shouta says.

All Might leaves his hiding spot and starts laughing.

“Aizawa, you liar!” The man says.

“All Might.” Shouta replies curtly. “I guess you have too much on your hands if you were watching.”

“‘A logical ruse’ you said? April Fools was last week.” All Might keeps laughing. “You expelled a whole class last year. You never hesitate to cut those who you judge to be without potential. For a man like that to take back his words. You must see a lot of potential in this class, right?”

“You are showing a lot of interest in this class.” Shouta points. “No one here has zero potential, that’s all.” Shouta sighs. “I’ll always cut those without potential. I’d rather crush their dreams now than send them to their graves.”

“So you're being kind in your own way, huh, Aizawa?” All Might replies, sobering. “We might not see eye to eye. But at least we can both agree that we want them to become the best heroes possible.”

“It’ll all depend on their efforts. Let’s see what tomorrow will bring.” Shouta says as he starts walking away. “I really need a nap.”

Chapter Text

Izuku really needs to deliver a fruit basket or something to Aizawa-Sensei. He doubts the teacher knows how grateful he is to be allowed to wear his coat despite the uniform.

Izuku thought he would have to hold out until he left school with just his gloves and snow hat to warm up. Back in the classroom, he grabs his syllabus and starts following Shouto. Some of the students have already started to mingle, but his antisocial brother prefers to continue alone. In his own words, he’s “not here to make friends,” but Izuku knows he’s just shy and doesn’t know how to interact with his peers.

Not that Izuku is much better. Unlike Shouto, who was homeschooled, Izuku attended Middle School, but he had no friends there. Everyone he met just wanted to be friends with Endeavor’s son, not Izuku. With friends like that, it’s better to be alone.

Izuku may not be as much of an introvert as Shouto, but he is one too. Still, he hopes they can make some friends. Especially since Izuku and Shouto decided to act like they weren’t close in school. They don’t want to risk Endeavor somehow finding out and taking even more drastic measures to separate them.

As they walk absentmindedly, Izuku accidentally bumps into someone, resulting in an immediate reaction from him.

“Warm.” Izuku mutters instinctively as he clings onto the person, almost climbing onto their back.

“Whoa, hold on there!” The person exclaims, taken aback by Izuku’s sudden attachment.

Undeterred, Izuku snuggles even closer to the person, holding onto their back like a backpack.

“Not that I mind having a hot guy clinging to me.” The person says, seemingly unfazed by the situation. “But why?”

“I’m not hot. I’m cold.” Maybe Izuku should at least look at whoever he’s clinging to. But he’s just so warm and comfortable that it makes Izuku want to take a nap right here.

“He’s like a cat.” A second voice chimes in.

“More like a heat-seeking missile.” Izuku recognizes the voice as Shouto’s. “That’s why I’m keeping my distance. When he’s like this, he’ll cuddle anything that radiates even the slightest amount of warmth. Stop that, Izuku.” His brother chides.

“But he’s so warm.” Izuku whines.

“Chill out, dude.” The boy Izuku is clinging to replies. “I don’t mind. I’m Kaminari Denki by the way. And the grumpy one is Shinsou Hitoshi.”

“Todoroki Shouto. The backpack is Todoroki Izuku.” Shouto replies in his neutral voice. But Izuku knows his brother well enough to hear the amusement hidden there.

“Backpack.” The voice that Izuku identifies as belonging to Shinsou Hitoshi snorts.

“Well, he’s a very cute backpack.” Kaminari says, and Izuku can hear the smile in his voice as they start walking again. “Though, I wonder. It’s not that cold here.”

“Quirk drawback.” Izuku mutters with a yawn. “My quirk generates and controls cold. And I’m not immune to it.”

“Oh, so this is what you did there. I thought you had ice like your… Cousin?” Kaminari replies.

“We are brothers.” Shouto says. “And no, only I can create ice. Izuku can freeze things, but he doesn’t create ice like me.”

“Shouto’s quirk is so much prettier than mine.” Izuku mumbles. “Why are you so warm?”

“Oh, it’s the excess electricity in my body.” Kaminari explains. “It makes my body warmer than average. The cats love me.”

“Which is totally unfair.” Shinsou grumbles.

“You are just jealous that cats like me more than you.” Kaminari laughs.

They keep walking and bickering (mostly Kaminari and Shinsou) until they get to the entrance.

“So, as much as I wouldn’t mind you taking your new backpack home, our ride is here.” Shouto says, pointing ahead to where a car is parked.

Izuku pouts as he gets down from Denki’s back, still feeling dazed and sleepy. He instantly misses the warmth.

“Well, it was nice talking to you two.” Kaminari says as he starts running towards the train station. “See you tomorrow!”

“Bye Todoroki. Bye Backpack!” Shinsou adds as he follows his friend.

“Backpack?” Izuku grumbles as he follows Shouto to the car. “Is this my nickname now?”

Shouto just shrugs and enters the car. The driver is about halfway home when Izuku suddenly registers what happened and what he did and starts blushing as mortification gets to him.

“Oh my god. I just clung like a backpack to a pretty boy I just met.” He says, turning to Shouto. “Shouto! Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you stop me!?”

“Maybe if your dumbass self didn’t just go level 3 just to throw a ball this wouldn’t have happened.” Shouto replies with a teasing edge to his tone.

“You’re so mean to me!” Izuku whines. “Oh my god, how am I going to look anyone in the eyes tomorrow? This is so embarrassing! Shouto, you’re dead to me. My only siblings are Nat and Yumi!”

“Good enough for me.” Shouto shrugs. “Good luck tomorrow. Backpack.”

Izuku will deny this to his death, having wheezed like a tea kettle at what Shouto said.

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

“Oh. My. GOD! Hito. He’s so pretty.” Denki whines to his friend as they board their train. “And the way he was nuzzling his head at my neck. I can’t deal with that!”

“Yeah, I know. You’re a complete gay disaster.” Hitoshi replies. “Now, can you tune it down? Everyone is looking at us.”

“How can I, Hito? God, I thought I was going to pass out.” Denki says. “How would you fare in my place?”

“Dunno. You know I’m ace.” Hitoshi shrugs.

“Fine, but I also know you’re not aro!” Denki points. “Your turn will come. And I’ll be here to tease you about it.

“Sure, sure.” Hitoshi replies, patting him on the shoulder. “Until then, I’ll keep teasing you about Backpack.”

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

Shouto sits at his table in the cafeteria, his lunch tray untouched in front of him. He’s not here to make friends. The only thing he came to UA to do is to become a hero while completely rejecting his father. Friendships aren’t necessary for that, and the only person whose opinion he cares about is Izuku.

Izuku sits down next to him, his own lunch tray already half-eaten. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, noticing Shouto’s lack of appetite.

“Nothing.” Shouto says curtly.

“Yeah, I’m not buying that.” Izuku insists. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Shouto sighs and gestures with his head to the other “guests” at their table. He doesn’t mind Yaoyorozu. He met her a few times in hero galas in the past. But why are Kaminari and Shinsou also here? They talked a little yesterday, and suddenly, Kaminari is already inviting himself to sit with them and dragging his friend along.

Izuku seems to realize what’s happening and sends a pleading look at Shouto. They had that talk already.

“Just try.” Izuku murmurs.

“I’m not here to make friends.” Shouto replies.

“Please.” Izuku implores, and damn it, Shouto can never resist those puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” He finally gives in. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“That’s all I ask.” Izuku lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Wow, they have a more neutral face than you, Hito.” Shouto turns around and sees Kaminari looking at him.

Shouto smirks at that. Izuku is a completely open book. For him. Shouto has years of experience reading every micro-expression on his brother’s face. Of course, it goes both ways. Izuku can read Shouto like he is his own diary. But other people don’t have that skill. He’s sure for everyone on the table. It looked like they were just glaring at each other.

Shouto shakes his head and begins to eat his cold soba. Their lunch break is quickly coming to an end, and they have heroics class right after. Time to focus and prepare for what’s ahead.

“So, who do you think will be our heroics teacher?” Kaminari asks.

“All Might.” Shouto replies.

“All Might? No way dude!” Kaminari laughs. “I heard he’s becoming a teacher this year, but he’ll probably teach the third years, right? Why would the number one hero waste his time with us?”

“No, no. I think Todoroki has a point.” Yaoyorozu says. “The third years are close to graduating, so they have more regular classes and work studies for practical experience. All Might might be better suited to teach the first or second years instead.”

“Well, I still hope we get another teacher.” Izuku says.

“Why, Backpack? Not a fan of All Might?” Shinsou asks, raising an eyebrow.

Shouto chuckles as he sees Izuku’s cheeks flush at the nickname, but he shakes his head quickly and responds.

“I wouldn’t say I dislike All Might. I’m more of a fan of Underground heroes, but that’s not the reason.” Izuku replies. “What I dislike is what he represents. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for everything All Might did for us as the Symbol of Peace. But he’s too powerful, you know? Most heroes have become complacent. They don’t need to do anything beyond the minimum since All Might is here. Not to mention that like it or not, All Might is still a human being. Age comes to everyone. All Might is a pillar for the whole society. What will happen when that pillar falls? Not to mention all the competitiveness around heroics. We are all here to save lives, so why act like enemies. Shouldn’t we be allies?”

Having said that, Izuku immediately gets up, grabbing his tray, and Shouto follows suit.

“Guys, where are y-” Kaminari’s question is cut off by the bell ringing, signaling the end of lunchtime.

That’s just another habit they’ve developed from living with Endeavor. Both Shouto and Izuku are hyper-aware of their schedule at all times. In normal circumstances, they can tell the exact time without needing to glance at a clock.

Their classmates quickly rush to follow them, knowing that no one wants to be late for class.

When they arrive at the classroom, the only ones there are Aoyama, who didn’t even leave, and Kouda. They all sit in their seats and wait for the class to gather.

Shouto ignores the murmurs of the class about who will be the heroics teacher and simply waits in silence, until....

“ I AM HERE! ” A booming voice is heard, followed by heavy footsteps. “ Coming through the door like a normal person! ”

Shouto can’t help but feel excited like his classmates as All Might enters wearing his silver-age costume. He knows Izuku doesn’t like the hero that much, but the truth is that Shouto is a huge All Might fan. The only reason he doesn’t have an All Might shrine like Izuku is because of Endeavor.

“ WELCOME TO HERO BASIC TRAINING!!! ” All Might announces. “ In this subject you will train in different ways to learn the basics of being a hero. This is one of the most important classes for the hero course. ” He explains while striking different poses for the class. “ And we’ll get right into it with… ” He holds a card in his hand with “COMBAT” written in capital letters. “ Combat training! ”

“Combat…”

“Training…” Shouto hears someone mutter close to him, but he’s not sure who it was.

“ And to go with that, we have these! ” All Might presses a button, and 20 drawers open with numbered cases. “ Costumes made based on your Quirk registrations and requests you sent in before school started. So, don’t waste any time. Get changed and meet me at Ground Beta! I am leaving like a hero! ” He says and walks out.

As soon as All Might leaves the room, everyone gets up and excitedly rush to get their costumes. Shouto grabs his case, which has the number 15, while Izuku grabs the number 18, and they go to the changing room.

Shouto’s costume isn’t exactly what he wanted at first. His first design was going to be a full white jumpsuit with ice covering his left side. But Izuku shot down this idea as soon as he heard it. Instead, he helped Shouto design a perfect costume for him.

Opening the case, Shouto smiles as he finds everything they asked for.

A temperature-resistant Jumpsuit. Shouto has no intention of using his fire, but Izuku reasoned that having a fireproof costume would be useful even if he didn’t use it himself.

A Combat Vest, which, in addition to the device around his neck, serves to monitor and help him regulate his temperature.

A utility bag with metal capsules containing water, pain medication, disinfectants, and other first aid supplies.

Snow boots made to give him traction and prevent him from slipping on his own ice, and consequently on Izuku’s ice. But unlike his brother, his boots do not allow him to ski.

And finally, his gauntlets, capable of storing cold air inside them to help him compress his quirk better.

Once he puts on his costume, Shouto doesn’t waste time leaving the dressing room and waiting outside. Unsurprisingly, Izuku is already there in his own costume. The similarities between Izuku’s and Shouto’s costumes are obvious to whoever looks at them.

Izuku went with a white jumpsuit and a Combat Vest similar to Shouto’s, but Izuku’s is exclusively for warmth and is green in color. He also has a utility belt with first aid supplies, and Shouto knows he carries hand warmers as well. He also has metal-looking knee pads for added protection. 

His boots, unlike Shouto’s, are made to slide easily on ice, allowing Izuku to pick up speed easily while skating. He has thick gloves on his hands that extend to his elbows to keep them warm. Both the boots and gloves are the same shade of blue as Shouto’s Jumpsuit. While Shouto’s boots are the same white as Izuku’s Jumpsuit.

Izuku notices Shouto staring at him and gives him a smile, to which Shouto responds with a nod. A few moments later, the other students start entering as well, everyone in their costumes. And All Might goes full narrator mode as he sees them entering.

“ They say the clothes make the man, young men, and ladies .” All Might says as the students walk. Is it just Shouto’s impression, or do they look like they are walking in slow motion? “ Be fully aware. From now on. You are heroes! ”

As All Might gushes over their costumes, Kaminari and Shinsou approach them. Kaminari with a grin and Hitoshi a scowl.

“Hey, guys. Nice costumes.” He says. “I like the mirrored look. Similar but different.”

Shouto gives an eye roll as his gay disaster of a brother blushes at the compliment and looks at Shinsou. His costume is very familiar.

“Eraserhead?” Shouto asks.

“I like him, ok?” Shinsou replies, looking away. “How was I supposed to know he would be our homeroom teacher?”

Shouto just shrugs and turns back to Kaminari.

“What about you? These look like casual clothes. Do you have any protection?” He asks.

“Oh, don’t worry dude!” Kaminari waves him off. “The fabric is slash resistant. And I have plating under the jacket.” He rubs the back of his head. “I didn’t exactly request it though. I was thinking more of looking cool than being practical.”

“Well, good thing whoever made your costume did a good job. Unlike them…” Izuku says, pointing to the girls.

Shouto has to take a double-take at what he sees there. What the hell is that?

“Who approved those?” Shouto asks.

“Why is Ashido’s costume strapless? Why is Uraraka wearing heels? Why does Yaoyorozu’s costume look like Midnight’s debut costume? Please tell me Hagakure isn’t naked.” Izuku mutters as he looks at them.

Heck, the only costumes that look acceptable are Asui and Jirou’s. Shouto can’t say much about protection since this is what they’re here to test, but at least they seem to work with their quirks.

“ Now that everyone is ready. Let’s dive straight in! ” All Might announces.

“Sir!” Someone looking like a robot calls.

“Is this Iida?” Shouto hears Izuku mutter. “Cool costume, but can he really move like that?”

“This is a battle center from the entrance exam, so will we be conducting urban battles again?” Iida asks.

“ Not quite, young Iida. We are taking this two steps ahead! ” All Might replies. “ You see, most of the televised villain fights happen outside in broad daylight. But those aren’t the real dangerous villains. Imprisonment, house arrest, backroom deals. All of those acts are most of the time practiced by the intelligent villains. The ones who hide in the shadows! ” He punctuates it, striking another pose. “ So, for this class, you will be split into heroes and villains and fight on indoors battles! ”

“Without any basic training?” Asui asks.

“ I understand your concern. ” All Might replies. “ But experience is the best way to understand the basics. The key part of this exercise is that there will be no robots to beat this time. ”

“So how do we determine who wins and loses?” Yaoyorozu asks.

“Can we just blow them anyway?” Bakugou asks.

“Is the loser at risk of being expelled?” Uraraka asks.

“If we’re separating into different groups, what would be the best way to do so?” Iida asks.

“Isn’t this cape magnificent? Aoyama asks.

“ One at a time, I can’t hear if everyone speaks at the same time!!! ” All Might replies, then he pulls out a script - which looks comically small in his giant hands - and starts reading. “ The situation is that the villains have hidden a nuclear weapon somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must stop them and their nefarious scheme before it’s too late! ” This sounds like the script of an action movie. “ If the heroes capture the villains or reach the nuclear core before the time runs out, they win. If the villains manage to keep the core the whole time or capture the heroes, they win. ” Then he picks up a draw box. “ Teams and opponents will be determined by drawing lots! ”

“Is this a good way to decide that?” Iida asks.

“Heroes don’t have the luxury of choosing who they will work with.” Izuku mutters, but no one seems to hear him.

“ Pros often have to create makeshift teams with heroes from other agencies. ” All Might explains. “You’ll find that very rarely you’ll have the choice on who you work with. Exceptions being hero duos or teams since they work together most of the time. ”

“I see! Always with our eyes on the future.” Iida replies, bowing exaggeratedly. “I apologize for the interruption!”

“ It’s fine. ” All Might replies. “ Now, let’s start this! ”

All Might then calls each student by seating order to get their teams. Shouto ends up in a team with Shouji Mezou, and Izuku is with Uraraka Ochako. That’s the girl who got the infinite score at the ball throw, right?

Then, they draw again to decide who will fight whom. Shouto’s opponents are Hagakure Tooru and Ojiro Mashirao. This complicates things a little. Not that it’s going to be a hard fight; Shouto is sure he could take both alone. But as Izuku commented, there’s a high chance that Hagakure is actually naked, and Shouto knows very well how dangerous ice is when in direct contact with skin.

Shouto can’t just freeze them. He’ll need another plan.

Meanwhile, Izuku is pointedly ignoring the glare Bakugou is sending in his direction. That’s the boy that scored only villain points and almost got first place in the entrance exam, right? Looks like he has a problem with Izuku having “stolen” his rightful place.

Shouto huffs and turns away. If he thinks it’ll be easy to defeat Izuku, this boy has a surprise coming for him. Well, Shouto is sure it’s past time someone knocked that boy from his high horse. His arrogance really reminds Shouto of his father. And judging by the grimace on Izuku’s face, he thinks the same.

Chapter Text

Izuku is never taking this costume off again. He doesn’t know who made it, but he’s never been more comfortable wearing something. The costume feels like a perfect fit, hugging his body comfortably without being restrictive. He can move freely, almost as if he was wearing nothing at all. Somehow, it feels even better than his favorite pajamas, and he’s wearing heavy boots and gloves, along with a metal device on his back.

As the battles are announced, Izuku’s excitement grows, and he barely notices the glare Bakugou sends in his direction. The blond is looking at him with an expression that screams murder, but Izuku can’t help but find it amusing. Maybe it’s because Endeavor is much scarier, but still.

Izuku returns Bakugou’s glare with one of his own. He’s not one to back down from a confrontation, and he’s not about to let someone’s hostility get in the way of his goals. He knows that not everyone will be friendly or welcoming, but he’s determined to prove himself and become a hero. Whatever this guy has against him, it’s not Izuku’s problem.

“ All right. ” All Might announces. “ The first team is Young Uraraka and Young Todoroki Izuku as heroes. Versus Young Bakugou and Young Iida as villains. Follow me, please. ” 

Saying that, All Might guides them both toward the mock city until they arrive at one of the buildings. 

“ The villains will go in first. ” All Might explains. “They’ll have five minutes to hide the bomb and prepare for the attack. I will let you know via comms when the heroes can come in. ”

Izuku watches as Bakugou sends him one last glare before entering with Iida. All Might waits a bit more before nodding.

“ The five minutes starts… NOW! ”

Izuku is taken aback as Uraraka grabs him by the arm and starts pulling him to a corner. His natural response is to flinch slightly at the sudden touch, but he quickly reminds himself that she’s just trying to be friendly and helpful. He takes a deep breath, trying to relax his tense muscles, and manages to hold back the urge to freeze her in place with his quirk.

“C’mon, we need to strategize.” She says, grinning at him.

“Right, strategize.” Izuku nods, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than his discomfort. “I saw you and Iida talking. Are you two friends?”

“Well, I’m not sure if we are friends yet.” Uraraka replies. “But we’ve been talking.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about him? Anything that could help us?” Izuku asks. “I saw his quirk. He’s very fast.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he can go full speed.” Uraraka replies. “He needs to build his speed, and there won’t be space for that.”

“But he’s probably still faster than you and me.” Izuku says. “Though I doubt he’s good with turns. Do you think you can handle him? Just touching him should be enough to render him incapacitated.”

“I can try.” Uraraka replies. “What about you?”

“Something tells me that Bakugou will come straight after me.” Izuku explains with a frown. “He has been glaring at me the entire morning. I don’t know what I did, but he definitely has a bone to pick with me. I’ll fight him, then try to come help you as soon as I can. I suggest you gather a few things to throw at Iida. Just like you know his quirk, he knows yours. Which means that wherever he intends to face you, he’ll have removed anything you could use your quirk on.”

“You’re right.” Uraraka nods. 

“ The five minutes are up. The heroes may come in! ” All Might’s voice echoes through their comms.

“Ok. Let’s win this!” Uraraka says with a determined smile.

“Let’s go.” Izuku nods

With determination in their eyes, Uraraka and Izuku head inside the building. Izuku takes the lead, scouting the area for any potential threats. The first floor is empty, so they head to the second. As they walk, Izuku makes a halting motion for Uraraka.

“I hear footsteps. They are heavy. It must be Bakugou.” He whispers. “I’ll distract him, and you sneak.”

“Roger.” Uraraka replies, finding cover behind a nearby pillar.

Izuku takes a few steps ahead and then stops.

“I know you’re here.” He says loudly. “You won’t sneak on me, Bakugou.”

Bakugou emerges from his hiding spot, explosions crackling in his hands and a smirk on his face.

“I should have known that wouldn’t work.” He says as explosions pop on his hands. “Well, a head-on fight is much more my style anyway. We have a score to settle, Coldplay.”

Izuku raises an eyebrow at the new nickname but shakes his head, unfazed.

“Really?” He notices Uraraka walking around them as he talks. “And why’s that? I’m sure I don’t know you.”

“You know exactly what this is about, you bastard!” Bakugou yells. “You stole first place in the entrance exam. I’m the best, and I’ll prove it by beating you!”

“Is that a challenge?” Izuku grins mischievously. “Well, catch me if you can.”

With that, he quickly freezes the floor, turning it into an ice rink, and starts skating away from Bakugou.

“Get back here, you coward! Fight me!” Bakugou shouts, using his explosions to propel himself forward in pursuit.

Perfect, now Uraraka can sneak past him.

Izuku runs circles around Bakugou in his tail for about two minutes, making sure Uraraka is far away from him. Then he stops abruptly and sidesteps just as Bakugou tries to throw a punch at him.

“Thank you for the chase, Bakugou.” He says with a grin. “That was a good warm-up.”

“Ready to fight me now, Coldplay?” Bakugou asks.

“Sure, just tell me one thing.” Izuku says. “Your quirk is tied to your sweat, right? And judging by the smell. Nitroglycerin?”

“So what?” Bakugou asks, jumping at him with his hands exploding. “Knowing that won’t help you.”

“On the contrary, Bakugou. I think knowing that will help me a lot.” Izuku replies, dodging the punch.

Izuku crouches for a moment and puts a hand on the floor. Letting his quirk take on, he pushes the freezing air through the floor, quickly freezing the entire room and dropping the temperature to the negatives. When he gets up again, he can feel the cold breath leaving his mouth.

“You just blew what sweat you had.” Izuku says. “Can you sweat more like this?”

Bakugou frowns at him before jumping into the fight again.

“I don’t need my quirk to kick your ass!” He yells, aiming a punch at Izuku’s face.

Izuku dodges the punch by spinning around and counters with an elbow to Bakugou’s nose. Then he sends a kick to his back and jumps back to get some space. Bakugou falls to the frozen floor with a grunt and slides a few feet back, but he quickly gets up. Then he points his arm at Izuku.

“Let’s see how you handle this.” He says, putting a hand on the pin in his grenade-shaped gauntlet. “If they did what I asked, this should already be filled.”

“ Bakugou, stop! This will kill him! ” All Might warns.

“He’ll be fine if it doesn’t hit him!” Bakugou replies and pulls the pin. 

However, whatever he was expecting to happen doesn’t happen. Instead, he screams in pain as the gauntlet blows up in his arm instead. Once the smoke is settled, his arm is red and raw.

“FUCK! WHAT HAPPENED?” He screams, holding his arm.

“I assume those grenades were filled with your sweat.” Izuku says. “They should redirect them in a huge blow. But you seem to have forgotten one thing, Bakugou. Nitroglycerin freezes very easily, but it stays explosive regardless. I suggest you ask that those gauntlets be rebuilt with thermal isolation or something to keep your sweat from solidifying when it’s cold. Otherwise, they are useless.”

“Fuck you!” Bakugou yells and jumps at him again, using his good arm to throw a punch.

“Anger makes you sloppy.” Izuku says, grabbing his fist. 

Izuku lets his quirk flow, and Bakugou’s arm starts freezing up to his shoulder. Then he opens his hand, and Bakugou falls on his back, holding his frozen arm. Izuku quickly grabs the capture tape and wraps it around Bakugou’s waist.

“ Bakugou is captured. ” All Might announces.

“Good fight.” Izuku says, laying a hand on Bakugou’s frozen arm.

He absorbs the coldness back, and the ice disappears. Then he gets up and throws one of the hand warmers in his utility belt at Bakugou before running upstairs.

“Uraraka-San. What’s the situation?” Izuku asks.

“I found Iida, Todoroki-Kun. We are on the fifth floor.” Uraraka replies. “But he saw me. He’s monologuing at the moment.”

“Capture the bomb if you can.” Izuku says as he runs. “I’m on my way.”

“Roger!” Uraraka replies, and Izuku hears her start running.

Izuku quickly makes his way upstairs as fast as he can. It takes about one minute for him to get to the fifth floor, and thankfully, the bomb room isn’t that far away from the staircase. He quickly plants both hands on the floor.

“Uraraka! Jump!” He yells and starts freezing the floor.

Uraraka immediately does as he said and jumps just in time to avoid the ice creeping on the floor. Iida however isn’t ready for that as he was already in movement. As soon as the ice gets to him, he slips on the floor and keeps sliding until he hits a wall. Uraraka uses her quirk to float to the bomb and drops on it.

“ The bomb has been secured! ” All Might announces. “ Victory of the heroes!! ”

Izuku walks to Iida and offers him a hand to get up.

“Well done, Todoroki.” Iida commends him. “You totally got me. I’m not ready to run on ice.”

“You should either learn how to skate or ask for boots with better footing so you don’t slip.” Izuku replies. “Ice isn’t that rare of a quirk. You might find a villain who can do the same.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Iida replies as Izuku helps him walk out of the ice rink.

Then he goes back and finds Uraraka puking her guts next to the bomb.

“I- I’m fine…” She says. “My quirk makes me nauseous, and floating myself makes it even worse.”

Izuku nods and helps her up as well, carrying her to the waiting room.

“Do you need to go see Recovery Girl?” He asks.

“Don’t worry.” She replies. “I just need to rest.”

In the waiting room, Izuku catches a glimpse of a very angry Bakugou being carried by the med bots. Maybe his gauntlet backfiring caused more damage than he thought. But before Izuku can think much about it, All Might starts talking.

“ Can anyone tell me who was the MVP in this round? ” All Might asks as Izuku is putting Uraraka on the floor.

“It has to be Todoroki, right?” Kaminari asks.

“You’re right, Young Kaminari.” All Might replies. “But can anyone tell me why?”

Yaoyorozu immediately starts talking.

“Todoroki’s strategy was sound.” She says. “He came up with a plan and followed with little to no failures. He distracted Bakugou long enough so that Uraraka could go past him, then ended the fight as fast as possible so he could help his partner. Uraraka did very well, too. But he slipped and ended up revealing her location to Iida. Bakugou was reckless and hotheaded. It would have been better if he had guarded the bomb. In the same letter, it would have been better if Iida went after the heroes. Iida did a good job with damage control after his partner went ahead on his own and was caught, and had it been only Uraraka, he might have won. But he wasn’t ready to face someone with an ice quirk.”

“ Well said, Young Yaoyorozu. I couldn’t have said better. ” All Might praises. “ The MVP of this round is young Todoroki, but everyone deserves praise as well. Now, let’s go to the second team? ”

As the second team follows All Might, Izuku approaches Shouto with a grin on his face.

“Nice victory.” Shouto comments.

“Thanks.” Izuku replies, returning the smile.

“I can do better, though.” Shouto says, giving him a playful smirk.

“Bet.” Izuku replies.

“Loser has to wear the mask of shame.” Shouto suggests, his grin growing wider.

“Oh, you’re on!” Izuku accepts the challenge eagerly.

“Why are they glaring at each other?” Izuku hears someone ask.

Before Izuku can see who asked, All Might returns to the waiting room.

Izuku watches the battles intently, taking mental notes on his classmates’ quirks. Each one is unique and fascinating in its own way. Eventually, it’s Shouto’s turn to face the practical exam.

In a true Shouto fashion, he barely talks to Shouji during the preparation phase. Once All Might gives the go-ahead, they step into the arena. Shouji uses his quirk to locate the villains’ positions, and then Shouto decides to be a show-off.

With a touch of his hand on the building’s wall, Shouto unleashes his ice quirk, rapidly covering the entire structure. The display of power is overwhelming, leaving everyone in awe, although some raise concerns about the potential danger of such an attack.

However, Izuku knows better. Shouto’s control over his ice is exceptional, and it’s evident that he’s holding back significantly. While freezing the building, Shouto also carefully avoids harming their classmates. He freezes Ojiro and Hagakure’s feet temporarily, but the moment he secures the bomb, he promptly unfreezes them. It’s the only context in which Shouto allows himself to use his fire quirk.

“Damn it. I’m totally wearing the mask of shame.” Izuku mutters.

“What is the mask of shame?” Kaminari asks, next to Izuku.

“Oh, that’s a joke Shouto and I have.” Izuku explains. “It’s a very bad Endeavor rip-off mask we found once. But it has blue hair instead of red, and instead of fire, the beard looks like water. Well, it looks like blue crayon, actually.”

“Pictures, or it’s not true.” Shinsou says.

“Sure.” Izuku chuckles and pulls his phone out.

He opens his gallery and shows them a picture of Shouto wearing the horrible rip-off mask. It looks like it was drawn by a five-year-old kid with questionable artistic talent.

“Oh, god. This is amazing.” Kaminari says. “What happened?”

“Shouto bet he could beat me in a tongue-twisting contest.” Izuku replies. “Unfortunately for him. The sixth sick sheikh’s sixth sheep’s sick.”

“The sixth what?” Kaminari asks.

“I won’t even try that.” Shinsou shakes his head. “Good luck with the mask of shame, Backpack.”

Izuku groans at the reminder of both the mask of shame and the nickname he’s stuck with. Just then, Shouto returns to the room with a smug smile. When he spots Izuku, he raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well played…” Izuku mumbles, looking away.

It’s to no one’s surprise that Shouto ends up as the MVP of the round. Especially when All Might points out how much control what he did actually took.

The rest of the day flies by, and once the lessons are over, Izuku leaves the training grounds with Shouto, Shinsou, and Kaminari. They chat amiably as they walk, discussing their performances during the trials and sharing tips on improving their techniques. Or, well, Izuku and Kaminari do most of the talking while Shinsou and Shouto stay silent.

Suddenly, a voice calls out from behind them, and they all turn to see Bakugou glaring at Izuku. 

“Hey, listen up, Coldplay!” He yells, pointing at Izuku. “You won this time, but that’s not the end. I will beat you next time, you hear me?”

Izuku blinks at the challenge. Is Bakugou declaring Izuku his rival? Well, he’s not about to back down on the challenge.

“Sure, I’m always up for a challenge. Bring it on.” His expression remains calm as he nods in acknowledgment.

Bakugou scowls but doesn’t argue further. He turns on his heel and walks away.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” Kaminari remarks, trying to ease the tension.

“He sure is.” Izuku adds, shaking his head. “But I guess we all have our quirks.”

Shaking his head, Izuku resumes his walk towards the exit, and just like yesterday, they split at the entrance as Kaminari and Shinsou go to the train station while Izuku and Shouto go to the car waiting for them.

“Hope you’re ready for the mask of shame.” Shouto says with a smirk.

“I shouldn’t have taken that bet.” Izuku mutters, looking away.

“Too bad.” Shouto replies. “You took it.”

“Yeah, I did.” Izuku sighs. “I won’t lose again.”

“We’ll see.” Shouto smirks at him.

Chapter Text

Izuku had spent most of the night analyzing his classmates’ quirks and jotting down notes in his notebook. Because of that, he’s feeling quite tired this morning. He just wanted to pass through the crowd of reporters surrounding the students, who were eager to know what All Might was like as a teacher.

Trying to slip away quietly with Shouto, Izuku hoped to avoid any unnecessary attention. However, one of the reporters caught sight of him and grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey kid, what’s All Might like as a teacher?” The reporter demands.

Feeling very tired and not in the mood for questions, Izuku takes a deep breath and lifts his head to politely ask the reporter to leave him alone. But as soon as the reporter sees his face, the man lets go of him, like he touched something hot, and quickly walks away.

“His glare is scarier than Endeavor's. Better leave that kid alone.” The reporter said to his colleagues, who also started to walk away with frightened expressions.

Izuku looked around in confusion. Why are they suddenly so afraid of him? He didn’t do anything. Well, he can’t deny that it’s somewhat convenient; at least the reporters stopped bothering him.

“But why?” He mutters.

“You look like you just woke up.” Shouto points.

“I did just wake up.” Izuku replies. “You’re the one who made the mistake of letting me sit on your left side.

“And you’re the dummy who pulled an all-nighter because you couldn’t wait until the morning to analyze our classmates.” Shouto says with a smirk.

“Yeah, well, I can’t help it if I look tired. It’s not like I glared at anyone.” Izuku mumbles.

“Yeah, I know your glares.” Shouto shrugs. “Don’t mind them.”

Izuku and Shouto walk together to their class, where they find a few people already in. Izuku goes to his seat and rests his head on his arms, looking as though he’s fast asleep. However, he’s fully alert and keenly aware of his surroundings. He can’t help but notice Bakugou with his feet propped up on the desk while Iida futilely scolds him for it. It’s clear that Iida’s lectures have little effect on Bakugou’s behavior.

Behind him, Shinsou and Kaminari are talking about a novel Kaminari read. Well, to be more accurate, Kaminari is talking while Shinsou nods along, pretending to listen when it’s obvious that he couldn’t care less. 

All around the class, the other students are huddled in similarly small groups. It’s just another ordinary morning in class, with each student in their own little world. The clock ticks closer to the bell, signaling the start of the lesson, and Jirou subtly raises her hand, giving a silent signal to the rest of the class. Everyone quickly takes their seats, and a hushed silence falls over the room as Aizawa-sensei approaches.

Izuku lifts his head from his arms as Aizawa-Sensei enters the room. The teacher scans the room then gives everyone an approving nod.

“Good, you’re learning.” He says. “Before starting today’s lessons, I have a few comments to make.”

The whole class holds their breaths as Aizawa-Sensei looks at them.

“Bakugou. Remember the properties of your quirk. If you weren’t resistant to your own explosions, you could have lost an arm. On the same page, Izuku, be more careful about possible effects your quirk could have on others.” Aizawa-Sensei says.

“Yes, Sensei.” Izuku nods, taking the advice to heart, while Bakugou just frowns in response.

“Todoroki, good display of control, but try to tone it down a bit next time.” Aizawa continues. “Hagakure, your current costume is unacceptable. Go to the Support Labs during the next free period and talk to Power Loader about getting a proper costume. And Yaoyorozu and Uraraka, you might want to consider doing the same.”

“Yes, Sensei.” The girls reply.

“Aoyama, Jirou, Tokoyami, and Shinsou, remember that a hero can’t be a one-trick pony. Your quirks won’t work in every situation.” Aizawa continues tearing up at the class. “You need to work on your hand-to-hand combat skills.”

“Understood.” Shinsou says with a serious expression.

“As for Kaminari, Sato, and Uraraka, it’s important to be mindful of your quirk’s drawbacks. You can’t afford to become a liability on the field. You’ll put yourself and others at risk.” Aizawa says. “Kaminari, work on controlling your quirk better. Uraraka and Sato, consider building up your tolerance or finding alternative ways to rely less on your quirks.” 

The class listens attentively, taking the teacher’s feedback to heart.

“With all that said. Remember that if you need help with something, the teachers are here to help.” Aizawa continues. “Present Mic is a licensed quirk counselor who specializes in strong and hard-to-control quirks. Midnight and Snipe are available to help you train with short and long-range equipment. Cementoss is a black belt in karate. And, of course, I’m here to help you, too. The syllabus you received in the first one had my number on it for a good reason. Use it.” Then he glares at the class. “For important things. Class matters, emergencies, or cat pictures. If I catch anyone prank-calling, the person responsible will have detention for the rest of the semester. Is that clear?”

The class responds with a resounding, “Yes, Sensei!”

Satisfied with their response, Aizawa-sensei nods. 

“Good. Now, let’s get to work. We have a lot to cover today.” He turns back to the blackboard and starts writing. “It’s a bit sudden, but your next activity is immensely important for the rest of the school year.” The entire class is at the edge of their seats as Aizaawa-Sensei announces that. “You have to choose the class president.”

Despite the mundane activity, the entire class burst into excited yells. Everyone seems to want the job.

“OOH! I WANNA BE CLASS PRESIDENT!! PICK ME!!” Kirishima screams.

“I wanna do it too.” Jirou states calmly.

“Oh, the position is made for me.” Aoyama adds, striking a pose.

Bakugou, of course, is trying to outdo everyone, almost jumping from his seat while trying to raise his hand higher than the others. Izuku, on the other hand, has absolutely no wish to become class president, and it doesn’t look like Shouto wants it either.

Amidst the chaos, Iida suddenly stands up and yells. 

“Be quiet!!!” His authoritative voice echoes through the room, and everyone turns to look at him. “Class president is a task laden with responsibility where you must carry and pull everyone else’s weight! Just because you want to do it doesn’t mean you can!! The only truly worthy leader will emerge from a democratic choice, reflecting the will of the people!”

All class falls silent as Iida delivers his passionate speech.

“This speech would be a lot more impactful if he didn’t have his hand raised higher than anyone in class.” Izuku mutters, and he hears Hitoshi snort from behind him. The irony of Iida’s words doesn’t escape them.

“We hardly know each other. How can we know who is the most trustworthy?” Asui asks.

“Won’t everyone just vote for themselves?” Kirishima points out.

“And that’s exactly why the person who manages to win multiple votes will truly be the right person for the job, no?” Iida replies. “Is that alright, Sensei?”

“I don’t care as long as you choose before the end of my nap.” Aizawa-sensei responds in his typical nonchalant manner as he crawls into his sleeping bag, settling down comfortably. “Don’t wake me up unless someone is dying.”

In the end, Yaoyorozu creates a ballot box, and everyone starts writing their votes on paper slips. Izuku isn’t sure about who he should vote for. He glances around the class, trying to figure out the best choice.

“Hey.” A voice calls out from behind, and Izuku turns to see Shinsou looking at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If you don’t know who to vote for, choose Denki. He’ll be an absolute train wreck. It’ll be amazing.”

Izuku chuckles at the suggestion. Who’s he to say no to a bit of chaos? He immediately writes Kaminari’s name on the slip and puts it inside the ballot. Afterward, the votes are counted, and the class waits in anticipation for the results.

As Iida counts the votes, the class eagerly awaits the outcome. In the end, Yaoyorozu wins with three votes, making her the class president. Kaminari comes in second with two votes, and everyone else who received votes has just one. Izuku furrows his brow when he sees his name among the single votes. Who’s the idiot who voted for him?

A few minutes later, Yaoyorozu and Kaminari stand in front of the class. Yaoyorozu exudes elegance and dignity, while Kaminari looks like he might pass out from nervousness.

“I know I said I wanted the job, but I didn’t think I would actually get it.” Kaminari chuckles nervously.

“And he’s only the vice president.” Shinsou says, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Thank you all for your trust in me.” Yaoyorozu smiles graciously. “I promise to do my best to represent our class and fulfill my duties as the class president.”

“I mean, I’ll do my best as the vice president, too! You can count on us!” Kaminari adds.

The class erupts in cheers and applause, welcoming their new class president and vice president. As the excitement dies down, Izuku can’t help but wonder who voted for him. He glances around the class, but everyone seems to be focused on the newly elected leaders. He exchanges a suspicious stare with Shouto, but his brother only shrugs.

Probably wasn’t him. He would be looking much more smug if that was the case. Oh, well. He can find out later.

The rest of the morning passes quickly, and lunch soon comes. Izuku sits with Shouto like he always does, and Shinsou, Kaminari, and Yaoyorozu go with them. But this time, Uraraka is also there, trying to talk with Izuku as the boy eats his spicy katsudon.

“I still can’t believe I got a vote.” Izuku says with a puzzled expression between bites.

“And I still can’t believe you voted for me!” Kaminari whines. “Why would you do that?”

“To see you like this.” Shinsou teases, earning a laugh from the group. “You’ll do fine.”

“I voted for Iida.” Uraraka adds. “He has this aura around him. I think he’d make a good class president.”

“Oh, so he didn’t vote for himself?” Shinsou raises an eyebrow. “I thought he wanted the job.”

Izuku decides to tune down the conversation for a moment and turns to Shouto. “Was it you who voted for me?” he asks his brother.

“Why would you think that?” Shouto gives him a teasing smirk.

“Because you know I wouldn’t want to be class president. Thus, I am the perfect person for my evil twin brother to vote for.” Izuku replies with a playful smile.

Shouto chuckles but shakes his head. 

“I voted for Momo.” He says simply.

“Oh, really?” Izuku asks. “Good choice.”

“I know.” Shouto replies with a smile.

“Why are they glaring at each other?” Uraraka whispers to Yaoyorozu.

“They are like this, don’t worry.” Yaoyorozu replies.

Despite the explanation, Uraraka looks slightly weirded out by them. Well, if she thinks they are glaring at each other, she really never saw Izuku glaring before.

As Izuku turns back to the group, an alarm suddenly starts beeping, startling him. He instantly clasps his ears, his discomfort evident.

“What’s that?” He asks, activating his quirk on his hands and stuffing his ears with snow.

As he glances up, he sees Yaoyorozu talking to an older-looking guy, probably an upperclassman. Meanwhile, Shouto looks worriedly at Izuku.

“The alarm means that someone trespassed the school grounds.” Yaoyorozu explains.

Just as they are getting up, Izuku notices Iida pressed against the window. He notices something outside and yells to someone that it’s just the press.

“It’s the press.” Izuku turns back to his brother. “Vultures. The lot of them.”

“Everyone is panicking.” Shouto replies. “Someone will get hurt if this continues.”

“Yeah, we should do something about that.” Izuku nods. “Yaoyorozu, can you make a megaphone?”

“Yeah, leave it to me.” Yaoyorozu nods and starts making the megaphone. Her quirk is just so useful.

“Uraraka, make her float. It’ll make things easier.” Shouto adds. Then, after a second thought, he shakes his head. “Actually, float Kaminari instead.”

“Huh? Why him?” Uraraka asks confusedly.

Todoroki raises an eyebrow and taps his leg twice. Uraraka blinks in confusion, then looks down at her own legs, suddenly realizing that the girls’ uniform has a skirt instead of pants. She blushes and nods before tapping Kaminari on the shoulder, taking off his weight just as he grabs the megaphone from Yaoyorozu.

Kaminari floats above them, already bringing the megaphone to his mouth.

“GUYS! CALM DOWN! IT’S JUST THE PRESS, DUDES!” He yells at the megaphone. “SOMEONE WILL GET HURT IF THIS CONTINUES! CALM DOWN!”

The sound of Kaminari’s amplified voice cuts through the chaos, making students turn their heads toward the window and see that, indeed, it’s just the press being noisy. It takes a moment, but gradually, the panic starts to diminish.

The gathered crowd begins to disperse, some students rolling their eyes at the unnecessary panic while others still look flustered at how they acted.

Izuku just sighs and gets up. Amidst the panic, someone went over to their table and kicked Izuku’s tray, so now his food is on the floor. Hopefully, Lunch Rush has an apple or something.

…

Once back in class, Izuku sits down on his seat as the people talk about what happened in the cafeteria. Kaminari blushes at all the praise he gets as people talk about how well he did calming down everyone.

Izuku smiles at how cute he looks when flustered before burying his face in his arms. Why is he such a gay disaster?

After a brief speech from the class representatives, classes resume. Despite all teachers acting naturally, Izuku notices a hint of worry on their faces during the day. It’s very subtle, but Izuku is very good at reading micro facial expressions. How else would he be able to read his brother so well? The teachers are worried about something, but what?

Could it be that it wasn’t only the press who got in? Maybe they were a distraction? A villain invading UA is unheard of. But just because it never happened before doesn’t mean it’s impossible to ever happen. There’s a first time for everything.

Well, that’s a bridge he’ll have to cross when they get there. He really hopes they aren’t about to get caught in a villain attack before even the first week. But with his cursed luck…

It’s better to keep an extra scarf with him just in case.

Chapter Text

Izuku rights himself and creates an ice slide, landing safely on the floor. He takes a quick look around and realizes he's stuck in the Conflagration Zone. Buildings are on fire all around him, and the villains are hiding nearby. The ice he created quickly melts and evaporates because of the heat.

He sighs, trying to figure out his next move. It had started as a simple rescue training day at the USJ, with Thirteen giving them a speech about being responsible with their quirks. But things went south fast. A purple portal opened in the building, and villains poured in.

Eraserhead, being a responsible teacher and a great hero, immediately jumped into action, telling the students to escape. But before they could, the Portal Villain blocked their path. Thirteen tried to fight back, but Bakugou and Kirishima just had to act like idiots and get in the way of the hero, which gave the villain enough time to scatter everyone across the USJ. 

Frankly, if Izuku dies today, he'll make it his mission to come back just to haunt those two.

Now, Izuku finds himself stuck in the Conflagration Zone, and the only other student with him is Ojiro. He takes a deep breath, watching the villains approach with malicious grins. 

“So excited to beat up a bunch of kids.” Izuku mutters as he starts walking. “Can't take anyone your size, huh?”

“The boss said we can do whatever we want with the kids.” One villain replies, grinning evilly.

“Pathetic.” Izuku mutters under his breath, deciding to walk away and ignore the villains.

A villain with a spear rushes at Izuku, attempting to stab him. Quick on his feet, Izuku sidesteps the attack and grabs the spear. With fire all around, he can't use his ice for long-range attacks due to the lack of moisture in the air. But these villains have moisture in their bodies, be it from sweat or internally.

Izuku grins and lets his ice spread, encasing the villain in an icy prison. He then kicks the frozen block, still holding the spear, and swings the polearm a few times, nodding at its weight.

“Huh. Nice weapon.” Izuku mutters to the ice block. “I’ll take that. Thanks for your generous donation.”

“Get him!” Another villain yells, and they all rush Izuku, determined to take him down.

Izuku just smirks and readies himself for the fight. He notices Ojiro not far away, perched on a streetlight, seemingly waiting for the right moment to join the fight. Cracking his neck, he starts running, finding the weakest point in the villains' formation to make his way.

The good thing about being in the Conflagration Zone is that the fire can keep him warm, so Izuku doesn’t need to worry much about using his quirk.

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

Shouto sighs in disappointment at the villains frozen all around him. Is this really all they got? God, that’s so pathetic. In the distance, he can hear several clashing sounds, which means there are fights happening all over the building. But if all these villains are so weak, he knows his classmates will be just fine. 

From what he can see, only three villains are actually a threat, The leader, the portal villain, and the purple monster thing, who they apparently brought to fight All Might. Where is All Might anyway? Aizawa-Sensei said earlier that he was supposed to be here as well.

Whatever. Shouto shakes his head and starts running towards the Central Plaza. He knows Aizawa-Sensei said to run, but if the purple monster is that powerful, he’s sure he’ll need help.

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

Hitoshi lets out an exasperated sigh, his hair sticking to his face in the relentless rain of the Downpour Zone. It's incredibly rude of the villains to teleport him to this zone. Don't they know how hard it is to get his hair to behave?

Dark Shadow, however, seems to be having a blast, smashing villains against walls with gusto. It's good to know at least someone is enjoying themself.

Nearby, Kouda is acting as bait, drawing more and more villains toward Tokoyami, and astonishingly, the villains are foolish enough to take the bait. It seems like one doesn’t need a high IQ to become a villain.

“Ugh.” Hitoshi hears a grumble as the villain he’s using as a seat starts getting up. However, Hitoshi quickly gives them a bash in the head with his staff.

“Back to sleep, will ya?” he mutters before turning his attention back to Tokoyami.

As much as he hates to ruin Dark Shadow's fun—he's fairly certain the sentient quirk doesn't get many chances to go all out—they really need to start moving.

“Hey, Tokoyami, Dark Shadow.” He calls out. “I think that's enough. I can see a safe path ahead.”

He's almost certain he sees Dark Shadow pout at him before the quirk returns to Tokoyami, who nods in agreement. Hitoshi gets to his feet and starts moving, hoping that everyone else is doing as well as they are.

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

Denki is so happy he took Hitoshi's advice and included a bo-staff in his hero costume. This staff is lightweight yet copper-plated, making it an excellent conductor for his quirk.

With the staff in hand, Denki can handle himself rather well, despite not being that good in close-quarters combat. He acts as a walking stun gun, providing support for Jirou, who utilizes her range advantage to take down villains. Denki quickly dispatches any villains who manage to get too close.

Meanwhile, Yaoyorozu creates a tranquilizer gun, and her aim is simply uncanny. Denki knows he definitely doesn't want to get on the bad side of either of them. Women can be so scary when they want to be. His Mom is a great example.

“Kaminari, behind you!” Yaoyorozu's voice breaks him out of his musings. Damn ADHD! One would think it would give him a break in a life-or-death situation.

Denki reacts quickly, jabbing his staff behind him and letting the electricity flow through the pole. He hears a villain grunt before collapsing to the ground. 

Jirou, meanwhile, sends another soundwave to take down a villain with a knife.

“Can't you use your quirk to zap them all at once?” Jirou asks as she takes out another one.

“If I do that, I'll be out of commission for a while.” Denki shakes his head. “I’d be worse than a dead weight. If even one of them manages to escape, it could be dangerous.”

“I agree. Let's keep that as a last resort.” Yaoyorozu adds, firing another tranquilizing dart. “I just hope our friends are holding their own.”

“Well, Hitoshi can kick my ass.” Denki grins confidently. “I'm sure he's okay. Let's hope someone managed to get help, and it's on the way.”

“Amen to that.” Jirou nods.

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

Izuku found himself skating to the Central Plaza as soon as he was out of the Conflagration Zone, his new spear secure in his hand. He’ll have to ask Sensei if he can keep it later. That is, after he gets over all the detentions he’s sure he’ll get for disobeying him and trying to help instead of leaving as Sensei said.

However, Izuku will be damned if he lets Aizawa-Sensei die like that. He may have tried to reassure the students with that litany that he's not a one-trick pony. But Izuku knows better. Eraserhead is an ambush fighter. Long fights, and against multiple enemies, leave him at a complete disadvantage.

As he reached the Central Plaza, he found Eraserhead fighting the villains, and he was holding his ground pretty well. All around him, the villains dropped like flies. However, both the leader and whatever the purple thing with the brain exposed is, are just standing there. Menacingly. Staring at him.

Then suddenly, the villain with the hands all over his body rushes Eraserhead, just as Izuku sees his Sensei’s hair drop. Which means he realized his tell. That’s much less than favorable. He grabs Eraserhead’s elbow and Izuku watches with wide eyes as it starts disintegrating.

Izuku finally gets close enough that he can hear them talking.

“By the way, hero.” The villain says and Izuku is sure he’s grinning. “I’m not the final boss. Nomu!”

The weird creature with the brain exposed finally starts moving, running to Eraserhead and grabbing him like it was nothing. Izuku could tell from the way it was grabbing Sensei’s arm that things were about to ugly, and he wasn’t about to let this happen.

Using the momentum of his skating, Izuku creates a ramp to launch himself upwards. Once high enough, Izuku turns his body and throws his spear as hard as he can. The polearm zips ahead from the speed, burying itself in Nomu's eye, piercing it, and leaving at the other side.

The creature shrieks in pain, dropping Eraserhead just as Izuku lands next to him. Izuku watches in horror and fascination as the creature pulls the spear out of his face like a toothpick and hurls it back at Izuku. 

Izuku immediately steps on the ground, raising an ice pillar that blocks the spear before it can impale him. His eyes widen as he sees the creature regenerating its eye back.

“Regeneration? I thought for sure this thing had either super strength or speed.” Izuku says, kneeling protectively next to Eraserhead who’s starting to recover from his shock. 

His arms look bad, the creature - the Hand Guy called it Nomu, right? - clearly crushed them. But at least it didn’t snap the bones. That would be a lot worse.

“Oh, do we have a hero brat here trying to save his precious Sensei? How adorable.” He laughs. “How do you like my Nomu, brat?”

“Nice pet.” Izuku snarks. “But I’m more into cats.”

“Oh, this one has a tongue.” The man laughs. “Let’s see how you deal with Nomu.” He snaps his fingers. “Nomu, kill the brat.”

Izuku kneels down and plants both hands on the floor, raising the biggest ice wall he can at the moment. Instantly he can feel the cold breath leaving his mouth as he enters stage 2, however, he ignores it in favor of reinforcing the wall. He feels the Nomu punching his ice, and in less than five punches it’s gone. This thing is strong.

“Well, this won’t do.” Izuku mutters to himself.

“What are you doing here, Problem Child?” Eraserhead asks. “I ordered everyone to leave.”

“Yeah, but discount Aperture scattered everyone through the building.” Izuku replies. “I was close by and saw you needing help. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Damn it, Problem Child. This isn’t your fight.” Eraserhead says. “You have to leave.”

“Too late now, Sensei.” Izuku grumbles as he raises another wall. “This thing won’t stop until either Handsy orders it, it kills me, or it’s dead. I think it’s evident whatever this is, isn’t human.”

“You have good eyes, brat.” Handsy laughs again. “This is the Anti-Symbol of Peace. Bio-engineered just to kill All Might.”

“So, it was made for All Might, huh?” Izuku grins. “Well, in that case.”

Izuku slides his right foot to the side, sending out another wave of ice, this time forming piercing stakes. The stakes hit Nomu in several places, piercing his arms, legs, stomach, and chest. The creature shrieks again and starts breaking the icicles.

As he thought, it can probably resist punches, but it’s not immune to piercing attacks.

That’s the moment that a portal appears in front of them again, and the portal villain comes out.

“Shigaraki Tomura.” The portal villain says, and Izuku files the name in his head.

“Kurogiri.” How polite of them to introduce themselves like this. “Is Thirteen dead?”

“Thirteen is incapacitated, but one of the students managed to escape.” The portal villain replies, and Shigaraki starts scratching his neck, hard enough to draw blood.

“Damn it, Kurogiri, if you weren’t our escape gate I would dust you right now.” Shigaraki grumbles. “Well, I guess it’s game over, then. The heroes will be here any second now, and All Might didn’t even come as we expected. Let’s go home.”

Izuku knew better than to expect the villain to just leave. He eyed the villain warily, while still continuing to make ice barriers to hold off the Nomu.

“But first…” The villain grinned under the hand covering his face. “Let’s wreck the heroes’ pride.” Then he started running towards the lake, and Izuku’s eyes widened as he noticed Shinsou and Tokoyami there.

Izuku tries to send ice to stop him, but he isn’t fast enough and he watches as the villain’s hand makes contact with Shinsou’s face. However, nothing happened.

“You’re so cool, Eraserhead.” Before he could say anything else, Izuku encased the villain in ice, blocking his mouth, but keeping one of his fingers free so he couldn’t decay the ice.

“Shinsou! Try to get the mist villain!” Izuku yelled just as the Nomu broke his last barrier and he jumped out of the way. “You’re so annoying. Let’s turn up the cold then.” 

Izuku skates around the villain, dodging another punch as he concentrates his ice inside his body, lowering his body heat even more. He can feel frost forming around his body, but that’s still not enough. He needs more.

As the temperature keeps plummeting, he can feel his fingers starting to go numb, signaling he’s entering stage 4. Once he’s where he needs to be, Izuku dodges another punch and climbs on the Nomu’s back, hugging it with all his strength, then he pushes all the cold he can using his own body as a thermal conductor to speed up the process.

“Ice Time!” Izuku screams as the creature starts to cool down fast. In just a few seconds he can see the signs of Frostbite as the creature’s regeneration tries to fight it. Its hand falls down just to regrow and fall down again as the cells keep dying over and over again.

It soon becomes a battle of attrition, but Izuku knows he can only stay in stage 4 for a few minutes before things get too dangerous for him. Fortunately, he can feel the creature’s regeneration starting to slow down.

Suddenly, Izuku feels something impaling the creature, and he sees an icicle piercing its chest, a few centimeters from Izuku himself. He can’t help but smile at his brother’s perfect timing.

“Shouto! Freeze it!” Izuku calls and lets go of the creature just as he sees the ice arriving, encasing the creature once more.

As Izuku rolls on the floor, he ends up landing right beside the spear the Nomu had hurled at him which is still lodged on an ice chunk. Izuku grabs it, the ice lodged on the spear making it become some glorified hammer, and quickly spins around, hitting the Nomu with it.

“Ice Hammer!” Izuku yells as the attack makes contact, shattering the Nomu into hundreds of tiny pieces.

Then dropping the hammer, Izuku falls to the floor, shivering violently and panting. In a second, both Eraserhead and Shouto are next to him. Shouto carefully lifts Izuku’s head since Eraserhead’s arms are still lying uselessly next to him.

“Izuku. What level?” Shouto asks worriedly, as he takes off Izuku’s gloves.

“L-L-Level 4.” Izuku says between chattering teeth. His hands feel quite numb, same for his feet.

As he glances at them, he sees his hands looking quite pale. Shouto touches his fingers, noticing how hard and cold they feel. His hand is also starting to blister. Instantly Shouto grabs both his hands with his left and starts slowly warming.

“W-W-What a-a-ab-about t-the v-v-vi-vi-la-lains?” Izuku asks.

“Shinsou managed to grab Kurogiri on his quirk.” Eraserhead says. “And Shigaraki is still encased in ice.”

“So we got them.” Shouto says with a soft smile.

“Yes. Though we will talk about this later, Problem Children.” Eraserhead says with a stern look. “After this is truly o-”

“ Have no fear! ” They hear as the doors to the USJ are broken, making the ground shake with the power. “ I am here! ”

Before anyone can even think of warning the man, he’s already in the middle of the Plaza, his speed creating a shockwave that jolts Kurogiri out of Shinsou’s quirk.

“Shit!” Shinsou yells, and everyone turns around just in time to see a portal opening under Shigaraki’s frozen figure.

Then he disappears as well, but not before sending Izuku quite a heated glare.

“This isn’t over.” He warns as the portal disappears.

All Might can only stare awkwardly as everyone look at him with an “Are you fucking serious?” expression.

Chapter Text

Shouto wanted to be anywhere but here at this moment. Things went on almost as a blur after All Might accidentally freed the portal villain who escaped with the leader. Shouto stayed by Izuku’s side all the time, warming his little brother, who hadn’t stopped trembling for a long time.

Thankfully, since Izuku didn’t spend a long time in level 4, his frostbite was still in the first stages, so just warming him did the work. After giving their statements to the police, they were soon released to go home.

Fortunately, no one got seriously hurt. The two worst cases were Thirteen, who suffered several lacerations on their back, and Aizawa-Sensei, who broke both arms. Had Izuku not faced the Nomu thing, the damage would have been much worse.

The problem arrived when Shouto and Izuku went home. For starters, their father went to get them himself, though thankfully, he arrived after Shouto and Izuku had changed out of their hero costumes, so he didn’t see Izuku in his costume. But it was clear from his expression that he was pissed off. And when their father is pissed off, Shouto is the one he takes his anger on.

When they got home, both Fuyumi and Natsuo were there. Natsuo spends all his time in his college dorms since he hates being home. The fact that he was home meant that he knew about the villain attack already and was worried about Shouto and Izuku. However, he didn’t get the chance to say a single thing because as soon as they got in, Enji grabbed Shouto’s wrist in a painful grip and started dragging him away.

Shouto felt his heart sink as his father dragged him towards the training room. With how angry he looked, Shouto knew he’d be lucky if he ended the day with just bruises.

“Father, he just suffered a villain attack.” Fuyumi tried to plead. “Please, let him rest.”

“If a pathetic villain attack was enough to tire him, he needs all the training,” Enji replied with a frown on his face. “This wouldn’t have happened if you stopped this useless tantrum and used my fire, Shouto.”

“I won’t!” Shouto gritted out. “I don’t need your fire.”

“Your pathetic display today begs to differ.” Enji replied.

“Are you even hearing yourself right now, Old Man?” Natsuo yelled at him. “Shouto got all the villains in the area he was taken to. He helped save his teacher. How is that pathetic?”

“He should have done it alone.” Enji said. “He shouldn’t need the help of some worthless hero students. Now out of my way! We need to train.”

Just as he reached for the door, Izuku touched it, freezing the doorknob. In that moment of surprise, he positioned himself between Enji and the door, his arms outstretched.

“You’re not going to do that.” He gritted out. 

Shouto noticed that Izuku was trembling but couldn’t tell if it was from cold or fear.

Shouto watched as the tension in the room thickened. His father’s face contorted with anger, his eyes narrowing dangerously. For a moment, it felt like the room might erupt in flames at any second.

Izuku stood resolute, even though his trembling hadn’t ceased. As much as he denied it, Shouto knew Izuku was afraid of their father. He carried a mark on his face of how brutal and uncaring for his own children the man was. But despite his own fear, Izuku was standing up to their father.

Fuyumi watched the standoff with concern and hope in her eyes. She had always been the one to mediate between her siblings and their father, trying to keep the peace in their tumultuous household. But now, she seemed to be silently supporting Izuku’s defiance.

Natsuo crossed his arms, his expression defiant. He had never been one to back down from their father’s anger, and today was no exception.

Enji stepped closer to Izuku, his voice a low, threatening growl. “Move out of my way, Izuku. This is none of your business.”

Izuku’s voice remained steady despite his trembling. “It is my business. Shouto has been through enough today. He doesn’t need your so-called training right now.”

Their father’s eyes flashed with fury. “I won’t tolerate your insolence, boy.”

“I DON’T CARE!” Izuku screamed back at him.

In that terrifying moment, Shouto’s eyes widened as he witnessed his father raising his hand. The sound of a backhand slap against Izuku’s face echoed throughout the room, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

Horror washed over Fuyumi as she covered her mouth in disbelief. Despite their father’s abusive tendencies, he had never been physical with them outside of his training sessions with Shouto. This was the first time she had ever seen him hitting one of them like this.

Natsuo seethed with anger, his face contorted in fury at what their father had done.

Shouto, however, remained frozen, his gaze locked onto the bruise forming on Izuku’s face. He had never seen his father resort to physical violence against any of his siblings before. It was a horrifying sight.

Izuku’s shock was evident in his wide, trembling eyes as he slowly turned to face Enji. And yet, he didn’t move away.

“Get out of the way, Izuku.” Enji growled once more, his fists clenched.

“No.” Izuku responded, glaring at him.

“Now, Izuku.” Enji warned again, taking an aggressive step forward.

“I won’t.” Izuku affirmed, standing his ground.

Enji’s patience reached its limit. He took another menacing step closer. 

“You’ll move away. NOW!” His voice thundered in the room.

Fuyumi couldn’t contain her panic and let out a scream. Natsuo tried to grab Enji’s arm in a futile attempt to stop him. Shouto, however, could only watch in utter shock as their father’s anger spiralled out of control.

Without hesitation, Enji delivered a vicious knee to Izuku’s soft belly. The force of the blow was enough to make an audible snap, and Izuku gasped in pain, collapsing to his knees. A moment later, he vomited on the floor, his small form wracked with pain.

The room fell into a heavy, horrified silence. The only sounds were Izuku’s ragged breaths and the retching noises. Fuyumi’s face was ashen, tears brimming in her eyes as she saw the brutality that had unfolded before her.

Natsuo was frozen with a mix of shock and fury, his hands trembling as he clenched his fists. He was torn between wanting to confront their father and rushing to comfort Izuku.

Shouto felt his heart twist painfully in his chest. The sight of his younger brother, hunched over in pain, was a profound shock to him. At that moment, he understood that he couldn’t continue to live under their father’s roof, not if it meant exposing Izuku to this kind of abuse.

Izuku, despite the agony coursing through his body, refused to show weakness. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes still locked on his father’s enraged face. The defiance in his gaze was unbroken.

Enji’s voice, a low, menacing growl, cut through the tension.

“Move.” He ordered Izuku again, but there was a hint of something unreadable in his expression.

Izuku very slowly got up on trembling legs. He looked Enji straight in the eyes, then spread his arms again.

“No.” He said between pained breaths.

Shouto couldn’t bear to see Izuku hurt any further. The very thought of their father hurting his little brother even more ignited a fierce protectiveness within him. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and conjured an ice wall to shield Izuku. The barrier materialized just in time, blocking their father’s raised fist as he attempted another punch.

Enji’s eyes widened in surprise as he glanced at Shouto. The glare he received from his son held more venom than he had ever seen before. When he turned to look at Natsuo, who appeared ready to punch him, and even Fuyumi, who glared at him through her tears, something shifted within him.

Another glance at Izuku, who fought to stay on his feet, and something in his expression changed. Without uttering a single word, Enji turned and left the house. The sound of a car engine starting and then departing echoed in the chilling silence that followed.

As they heard the sound of their father’s car fading into the distance, a heavy silence enveloped the room. Izuku’s breaths quickened, and he fell to his knees, gasping painfully. Shouto wasted no time and rushed to his side.

Natsuo’s nurse training quickly kicked in, and he started instructing them on what to do.

“We have to take him to the couch,” he said, “Lie him down.”

Shouto nodded, gently helping Izuku up and guiding him to the couch. Fuyumi, still sobbing, began to gather the supplies to clean up the mess left on the floor, unsure of what else she could do.

They laid Izuku on the couch, and Natsuo carefully lifted the younger boy’s shirt. Their collective gasp filled the room as they saw a thin, cracked layer of ice covering Izuku’s bruised belly.

“I made it before he kicked me,” Izuku explained with a pained smile. Didn’t help much, but…”

“You did great, little bro.” Natsuo reassured him, patting Izuku’s head gently. “Can you?”

Izuku nodded and closed his eyes briefly, focusing on his quirk. The ice slowly dissipated as he absorbed it back into his body. Shouto and Natsuo exchanged shocked glances as a large, purple bruise was revealed on Izuku’s belly.

“Is it bad?” Izuku asked, his voice trembling.

“That bastard…” Natsuo muttered, his anger simmering as he gently touched the bruise, activating his quirk to ice the area.

Shouto, in a hurry, dashed to his room. He rummaged through his drawers until he found his bruise cream and hurried back to the living room. Sitting down beside Izuku, he handed the cream to Natsuo. But his vision was starting to blur, and he felt a strange wetness on his cheeks.

“Hey, Shou.” Izuku called out, mustering a small, reassuring smile. “Why the sad face?”

“You idiot!” Shouto replied, his voice thick with emotion. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, finally acknowledging the tears that had welled up. “Why did you do that? Look at what he did!”

“I’m fine.” Izuku insisted, wincing in pain as Natsuo applied the cream to his bruised belly.

Tears streamed down Shouto’s face uncontrollably, mixing with the anger and frustration that had built up inside him for years. He reached out hesitantly, and Izuku’s hand met his halfway.

“This isn’t fine.” Shouto said, his voice trembling with emotion. “He went too far.”

“He went too far a long time ago.” Izuku replied, his voice equally shaky. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“BUT YOU ARE!” Shouto snapped his anguish and fear pouring out. He would have grabbed Izuku’s shoulder and shook him if he wasn’t so worried about his wounds. “Please, Izuku. Don’t do this again. I can’t handle seeing him hurting you.”

Natsuo finished applying the bruise cream and sighed heavily. 

“This is too messed up.” He muttered, his frustration palpable.

Fuyumi, who had finished cleaning up the mess, joined them. Her face was tear-stained as she brought a warm washcloth, a glass of water, and some ibuprofen.

“Here, Izuku.” She said gently, offering him the cloth. 

Izuku nodded, sitting up carefully and taking the cloth to clean the remnants of vomit from the corner of his mouth, mindful of the bruise on his cheek. Then he accepted the water and the pills.

“Thanks, Yumi.” He said with a grateful smile.

Fuyumi looked at her younger brothers, her expression filled with worry.

“This can’t go on.” She stated firmly. “I know I’ve been in denial all this time, but after today…” She shook her head. “I can’t give him more chances after today.”

“If he can do something like this to Izuku, who he always saw as defenseless.” Natsuo added, glancing at Shouto. “Things are only getting worse from now on. We need help.”

“He was angry today.” Izuku pointed out. “And me provoking him didn’t help. I don’t think he’ll keep doing this.”

“But what is he going to do when he discovers you’re in the hero course, Izuku?” Shouto’s voice quivered with worry. “He still thinks you’re on Gen Ed.”

“We’ll cross this bridge when we get to it.” Izuku replied, offering Shouto a reassuring smile. “Besides, we tried before, remember? No one will believe a bunch of children over the number two hero.” He added with a bitter chuckle. “It’s too dangerous.”

Shouto knew he had a point. All of them had tried to report Enji before, several times, but no one ever took them seriously. No one wanted to believe that the number two hero in Japan was abusive. It was much easier to keep the rose-tinted glasses than to face the truth, but there had to be something they could do.

A small voice on his head pointed out that there was something he could do. But it would require Shouto to trust someone. Was he prepared to take this leap of faith?

As Shouto glanced at Izuku, still breathing heavily, with his eyes half-closed as Fuyumi ran her fingers through his hair, he knew there was only one answer for that. If he could just get Izuku away from this place, that would be enough for him.

Chapter Text

Izuku sat down on his desk, resting his head on his arms. Despite all of Natsuo’s best efforts, his belly still hurt like a bitch, and he didn’t sleep very well last night. He wanted nothing more than to just get down and take a nice, long nap. But no can do. He still had school.

The bruise on his face mostly faded, so he only needed a tiny bit of concealer to hide it, but if he was to take off his shirt, everyone would see the nasty, big, purple bruise on his belly. He did his best to ignore the pain, but there was only so much he could do about it when he refused to see Recovery Girl about it. She would be required to ask questions, and that would open a can of worms Izuku didn’t want to deal with. 

Logically, he knew that his siblings were right, and they should report what happened. But every time Izuku thought about doing so, he ended up remembering all the times he tried to report Endeavor’s abuse to the police, just to be told to “stop making up things about the number 2 hero, brat,” and shoved away. Or even worse, like when they called Endeavor to tell him about Izuku’s accusation.

This might have been the first time his father ever got physical with Izuku (the scar was an accident. It was!), but in his opinion, his father’s words hurt much more than any punch ever could. One could only be called worthless and useless so many times before they started believing it.

So, no. Izuku was against reporting Enji because he firmly believed no one would believe their words.

He barely could muster the will to greet Kaminari when he said hi. He completely missed his and Shinsou’s worried expressions and how they glanced at Shouto, asking silently if Izuku was all right.

However, as soon as the bell rang, Izuku pulled himself up on his chair, slipping a trained mask of neutrality on his face. He couldn’t let any teacher know what was happening. He couldn’t afford anyone asking questions.

Aizawa opened the door and walked in. To Izuku’s relief, completely healed already. He glanced at the class, and for a second, his gaze seemed to stop on Izuku, who froze.

Did he notice something? Is Izuku’s expression betraying something? Will he ask questions?

But to his relief, his gaze soon went to the rest of the class. He really had to resist the urge to sigh in relief. 

“Morning!” He muttered as he entered.

“Sensei! I’m glad to see you’re fine.” Iida said loudly, and the class nodded in agreement.

“The Old Lady is a godsend,” Aizawa-Sensei muttered, rubbing his right arm slightly on the part where Izuku remembered seeing the bone poking out. Then he shook his head. “My health isn’t important. You have other things to worry about. Your fight isn’t over yet.” Everyone’s eyes widened as they wondered if there would be more villains coming. “The Sports Festival is coming.”

A beat of silence, and then everyone burst into a cacophony that didn’t help Izuku with his throbbing head. Why did everyone have to be so noisy about everything? Izuku mostly tunned out the announcement and most of the morning classes, only taking notes on auto-pilot.

By the time lunch came, Izuku really only wanted to find a peaceful corner to take a nap. But alas, he has to keep pretending he’s fine, so he gets up and follows Shouto out of class, suppressing a wince as some kid in a hurry bumps into him.

About halfway to the cafeteria, Shouto stopped and turned around.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” He said, grabbing Izuku (avoiding touching his belly) and putting him on Kaminari’s back. Izuku started to complain, but he surrendered as soon as he felt Kaminari’s warmth. “See you in the cafeteria.”

Then Shouto started walking. In a direction, Izuku was sure there was no bathroom.

“Shouto, the bathroom is the other way.” He warned.

“No, it’s not,” Shouto replied, waving him off. “I’m sure it’s this way.” Then he kept walking.

“Stubborn bastard,” Izuku muttered. “He will get lost.”

“Well, he said he’ll meet us in the cafeteria, so let’s go,” Shinsou said.

“No, he won’t,” Izuku replied. “There’s no way he’ll get there in time.”

“Well, what can you do?” Shinsou shrugged. “C’mon, Denki, Backpack.”

“When are you letting this go?” Izuku asked.

“When you stop hanging on him like a backpack,” Shinsou replied with a smirk. “So, never.”

“I don’t really mind,” Kaminari said as he walked behind Shinsou. “I love having a hot guy hanging on me.”

“I’m not hot,” Izuku replied. “Shouto is hot. I’m cool.”

“I don’t know if you’re being serious or if this was a pun,” Shinsou said.

Izuku just smirked and refused to elaborate.

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

“Am I losing my touch?” Shouta asked aloud as he walked to the teacher’s lounge with Zashi.

“What do you mean, Shou?” Zashi asked back, raising an eyebrow.

Shouta sighed and glanced to the side, seeing a second-year girl walking with a boy.

“Gen Ed,” Shouta said. “5’7”, 123 pounds. The boy is her boyfriend. They were making out a few seconds ago. She comes from a rich family. Single child. Slightly spoiled. Allergic to makeup.”

Then he glanced around and found a boy with a bee-like mutation.

“First year. Business course.” He said. “6’, 207 pounds. Poor family. Lax with dress code. Don’t like the tie. Extrovert. Older child. Two brothers. Single.”

“I’m always impressed with how you can do this just by glancing at someone.” Hizashi chuckled as he opened the door to the teacher’s lounge, and both entered. “But what is this about?”

“I think I’m losing my touch.” He said, making a beeline for the coffee maker and pouring himself a cup.

“Shou, you figured out All Might’s secret five seconds after seeing his skinny form,” Zashi replied.

“And yet, I just can’t read two of my students,” Shouta replied. “At all.”

Zashi stopped and turned to him with wide eyes.

“You can’t?” He asked in shock.

Shouta grabbed the cup and went to the couch, slumping on it and taking a long sip of the divine drink. Always trust Nedzu to supply the teachers’ lounge with the best products.

“The Todorokis,” Shouta said. “I can’t read either of them.”

“Wait, Todoroki Shouto, I get it,” Hizashi replied. “But Izuku? The boy seems to wear his heart on his sleeve.”

“It’s a mask, Zashi,” Shouta explained. “The boy has a poker face that would put even Snipe to shame, and I’m talking about Snipe wearing his mask. There’s something going on with them. My guts are screaming at me. But I just can’t see what.”

Zashi furrowed his brow, concerned. 

“Are you saying there’s something happening with them?” He asked.

“It’s just a gut feeling, but…” Shouta nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. “Yes, something doesn’t add up. And they are so good at hiding their feelings. I’m sure half of my class think they don’t get along despite always being together.”

“Your gut feeling is very rarely wrong, Shou. They are probably hiding something.” Hizashi said. “One doesn’t get so good at hiding their feelings by living a normal life. This is worrisome.”

“It is,” Shouta replied, his gaze distant. “But I’ve been observing both for some time now and still have nothing. So, unless one of them suddenly appears at the door wanting to talk, there’s nothing we can do.”

Just as he finished his thought, a knock echoed at the door. Hizashi got up to answer.

“Oh. Hello Todoroki. Do you need something?” Hizashi asked, and Shouta almost choked on his coffee.

“Is Aizawa-Sensei here?” Todoroki asked.  “I need to talk with him. Alone, if possible.”

Shouta actually choked on his coffee this time. Just what the hell was this timing?

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

Shouto had plenty of time to second-guess his plan, but he didn’t. He followed Aizawa-Sensei to his office with a sense of determination.

Aizawa-Sensei led the way into the room and held the door open for Shouto before closing it behind them. Then, he headed to his desk and gestured toward a very comfy-looking chair.

“Have a seat, Todoroki,” Aizawa-Sensei said in a calm tone.

Shouto nodded and settled into the indicated chair, his nervousness palpable. This conversation weighed heavily on his mind.

Shouto hated lying to his little brother but knew that Izuku would never approve of his plan. When the truth came out, Shouto anticipated tears, anger, or perhaps even both, from Izuku. However, as long as Izuku was safe, Shouto was willing to bear his brother’s anger.

Aizawa-Sensei leaned back in his chair, his gaze intense, though tinged with a hint of frustration for some reason.

“What’s on your mind, Todoroki?” He asked gently.

Shouto took a deep breath and looked up with a fire in his eyes.

“Sensei, it’s about Izuku.” Shouto began. “He needs help.”

Aizawa-Sensei took a deep breath before looking at Shouto.

“I believe we can help him, Todoroki,” Aizawa-Sensei replied. “But I need to know what’s happening.”

Ok. Time for the leap of faith. Shouto was betting everything on this conversation. If it failed, he didn’t know what he’d do.

“Our father. Endeavor.” Shouto took a deep breath to steel his nerves. “He’s abusive towards Izuku.” He only needs to know about Izuku. Endeavor won’t fight for him. “Two days ago. After the USJ, he…” Deep breathes Shouto. Deep breathes. “He hurt him. A lot. Izuku still has a big bruise on his belly where Endeavor kneed him. He doesn’t want to see Recovery Girl because… He’s afraid.” Not for himself. Why are you so selfless, Izu? “I know it’s hard to believe. But I don’t know what will happen if he continues with Endeavor, Sensei. You have to believe me.” Shouto bowed deeply, his head touching Aizawa-Sensei’s desk. “Please, Sensei. Save my brother. I can’t lose him too.”

-. --- - .... .. -. --. / - --- / ... . . / .... . .-. .

Shouta still couldn’t read Todoroki. Even as he talked about Endeavor, his face remained blank, expressionless. Shouta had never met anyone with such a well-crafted mask.

However, just because Shouta couldn’t read the kid didn’t mean he didn’t believe him. On the contrary, living with an abusive parent perfectly explained the oddities in both brothers’ behavior. Hiding their feelings, trying to stay quiet and unnoticed, hoping to be ignored—these were all reactions Shouta was deeply familiar with.

Still, Todoroki was clearly hiding something. He only spoke about Endeavor’s abuse towards Izuku. Shouta wasn’t naive enough to believe Endeavor would be abusive to just one of his children. The memory of Todoroki Touya’s “accidental” death years ago flashed through his mind.

“Todoroki,” Shouta called gently, “I can help you. But I need something I can work with. How long has this been going on?”

“Two days ago was the first time he’s been physical,” Todoroki replied. “But before that, he’s always been dismissive and… neglectful towards him.” The boy took a deep breath. “Well, no. There was another time. But Izuku insists it was an accident.” He touched the right side of his face, circling his eye. “His scar. It came from Endeavor.”

Shouta took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger in check. He couldn’t let the boy think he was angry at him. He was dealing with a clearly traumatized kid who was betting everything on trusting him. Shouta knew he wouldn’t get a second chance. He couldn’t mess this up.

“Izuku says it was an accident,” Shouta repeated. “You believe it wasn’t?”

“No. It was an accident,” Todoroki replied, his voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. “At least Endeavor didn’t burn his face on purpose, but…” He took another deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “The accident was completely Endeavor’s fault. His carelessness and disregard for Izuku’s life caused it.” He looked up at Shouta, his eyes pleading. “Sensei, what do you need to know to help Izuku? Whatever it is, I’ll do anything. Please.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Todo—no, Shouto,” Shouta replied, his tone measured and calm. “I need to know everything Endeavor did, not only to Izuku but to you and your other siblings as well. You’re not safe either, are you?”

Shouto glanced at him, and for the first time, Shouta saw something flicker across the boy’s face. It was a mix of shock and hesitation.

“You just need to get Izuku out. Please, Sensei,” Shouto pleaded. “Endeavor won’t fight for him. But if you try to get me, he’ll fight tooth and nail. He’s the number two hero, Sensei. He has too much power.”

“And we have Nedzu,” Shouta replied firmly. “Endeavor wouldn’t be the first corrupt top hero he has taken down, Shouto. Do you know Stormbringer?”

Shouto nodded curiosity and confusion in his eyes.

“She was the number three hero a few years ago,” Shouto explained. “But she was arrested after it came to light that she had dealt with multiple trafficking rings.”

“Nedzu was the one who got her,” Shouta continued. “It took him a few months and a lot of investigation, but he brought everything she did to light. Her license was revoked, and she was condemned to Tartarus.”

“Endeavor might be an abuser, Sensei,” Shouto said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “But he’s a good hero and has no deals with criminal organizations.”

“No, but domestic abuse is still enough to get you out of his grasp,” Shouta said, leaning forward slightly. “But to do that, we need to know everything.”

Shouto closed his eyes, wrestling with himself. His mouth moved as he muttered to himself, though his voice was too low for Shouta to hear. After a few minutes of this internal debate, he finally looked up at Shouta, and his expression was, to put it in one word, fiery.

“Sensei.” He started. “Do you know about quirk marriages?”

For the rest of lunchtime, Shouta had to hear the most heartbreaking and infuriating story he heard in several years. About a man too obsessed with power and wanting to be the number one hero. To the point of literally buying another person. Breeding children like cattle. Neglecting the ones that didn’t have the power he wanted. Bringing the oldest to death as he tried to prove he was worth it. Driving his own wife to insanity with his abuse and then burying her in a mental institution.

But it wasn’t over yet.

“As I said, when my quirk manifested, Father saw me as his masterpiece. My quirk, Half-hot, Half-cold, was exactly what he wanted. But Izuku’s quirk, Cold Snap, was weak.” Shouto explained with a frown. “He could only generate a bit of cool air, and doing so made him very cold. Father decided he was another failure and forbade me from interacting with him. But despite that, we always snuck behind his back to spend time together.”

Shouta couldn’t imagine how painful it would be to be separated from your own twin. To be forbidden to interact with your siblings. He was hating Enji more and more by the second.

“It happened a little after Mom was sent away,” Shouto explained, his voice barely above a whisper. “Father had always been careless with his private life. Everyone knew who his children were.” He tightly gripped the hem of his uniform pants, his knuckles turning white. “Izuku was going home after school - the bastard couldn’t even be bothered to send the driver to get him - when a group of villains kidnapped him.”

Shouta felt a surge of anger at the thought of such a situation happening to children. He clenched his fists under the desk but kept his expression calm.

“They demanded ransom,” Shouto continued, his voice heavy with bitterness. “I was in the living room when my father got the call. But his answer was…” His left side flared briefly before he regained control of his emotions. “He said, ‘This one is useless, you can keep him,’ and shut the phone on their faces.”

Shouta’s blood boiled with fury at those words. That man was no father. Someone who can talk like this about their own children doesn’t deserve to have them.

“He would have abandoned Izuku if the villains hadn’t also called his PR team,” Shouto went on, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. “After Touya’s death, losing another son would have been very bad for his image. He couldn’t afford to be seen as someone who didn’t care for his family. But he also refused to give the villains the ransom. So he went after them.”

Shouta got up and fetched a cup of water for the boy, offering it to him silently. Shouto took it with a nod of gratitude, gulping it down as if trying to wash away the bitter memories that haunted him.

“It wasn’t hard to locate them,” Shouto continued, his voice heavy with bitterness. “They were careless and easy to follow. Just a small-time gang who thought they could get some easy cash from the number two hero. Endeavor went at them guns blazing.” He sighed heavily, the weight of the memories pressing down on him. “Seven villains died. 14 had third-degree burns. When he found Izuku, the leader of the gang, he had a knife against his neck. This part never made the news because the HPSC swept it under the rug, but Izuku told me.” Shouto’s gaze hardened with pure hatred as he looked at Shouta. “Endeavor threw a fireball at the villain. But the villain used Izuku as a human shield. Enji’s fireball hit Izuku right in the face. It was a small attack, but it burnt him. The villain dropped Izuku as soon as Endeavor’s attack hit him. Izuku was rolling on the floor in pain, but Endeavor ignored him and went after the villain.”

Shouto looked down, but Shouta noticed tears welling in his eyes.

“It left a scar on his face,” Shouto continued, his voice trembling with emotion. “And the pain plus the stress triggered a quirk evolution. It turned Cold Snap into what it is today.” Shouto explained, his voice growing softer. “He froze the whole complex. Had severe frostbite because of it. He almost lost his hands, but the doctors were able to save him. And yet, Endeavor still doesn’t know about the quirk awakening. He completely ignored Izuku. Never bothered to read any reports. He chased down the villain for seven blocks until he got to him, so he didn’t see what Izuku did. He still thinks Izuku is weak. He actually thinks Izuku is in Gen Ed. I don’t know what he’s going to do when he discovers the truth.”

Shouta was in shock. He always suspected there could be something wrong with Endeavor’s family. The man was so brash, even with his fans. Who knew how he was to his own family? But this was much worse. As he glanced up, he saw a camera pointed at them, flashing a green light. This was all the signal he needed. Nedzu heard everything. 

As he heard the story, Shouta made a vow. He would get them away from Enji. Those kids deserved to be safe, and Shouta would make sure they were.

Chapter Text

Izuku couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Shouto. Since they returned to class after lunch, Shouto had been distant, barely uttering a word to him. Even during the ride home, Shouto remained silent, offering only curt farewells to their classmates.

In the car, Izuku attempted to engage Shouto in conversation, but his attempts were met with dismissive responses. When Izuku expressed concern, Shouto brushed it off with a simple “I'm fine, don't worry.” Yet, despite his reassurance, Izuku couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

Upon arriving home, Endeavor suddenly emerged, seemingly out of nowhere, and dragged Shouto to the training room. Izuku instinctively moved to intervene, but Shouto shot him a rare glare, halting him in his tracks. Helplessly, Izuku watched as Endeavor locked the door behind them, trapping Shouto within.

The sounds of yelling and screaming emanated from the training room, assaulting Izuku's ears. He felt powerless, unable to do anything but wait for the ordeal to end.

The training session stretched on far longer than usual, extending past its usual duration by over two hours. When it finally concluded, Endeavor departed, leaving Izuku alone with his mounting concern for Shouto.

Rushing to Shouto's room, Izuku knocked on the door, using their secret code. But to his dismay, there was no response from inside.

“Shouto,” Izuku called softly, desperation creeping into his voice. “Please, open the door. Talk to me, Shouto.”

But still, there was no answer. Izuku tried the doorknob, finding it locked. He knew Shouto was in there, yet his brother remained silent, refusing to acknowledge him. With each failed attempt, Izuku's worry only grew.

“Shouto…” The desperation in Izuku's voice was palpable, tinged with the hint of tears. “Please, Shouto… Say something. Anything.”

Izuku's pleas echoed in the empty hallway, met only by the stubborn silence beyond the closed door. His heart sank as he realized Shouto still wasn't responding.

A flicker of movement caught Izuku's attention, and he watched as a shadow danced across the door's surface. For a brief moment, hope sparked within him, but it was quickly extinguished when Shouto remained immobile on the other side.

Defeated, Izuku let out a heavy sigh and pressed his forehead against the cool surface of the door.

“I'll be in my room,” he murmured softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “The door is always open for you, Shouto.”

With a heavy heart, Izuku turned away from the door, his steps heavy as he made his way to his own room. The uncertainty gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of unease. What had he done to deserve this sudden silence from his brother?

As he sank onto his bed, the questions continued to swirl in his mind. Did Shouto blame him for something? Was it because he didn’t want to report Endeavor? He couldn’t risk it! If they tried and failed, their father would only get worse.

Izuku was scared, even if he refused to admit it.

... .- -.. -. . ... ...

Shouto stood motionless against the closed door, his heart heavy with guilt and pain. His entire body ached from Endeavor’s “training.” For some reason, his father was particularly angry today, and Shouto happened to be the perfect outlet for his anger. As he listened to Izuku's faint voice on the other side of the door, his resolve wavered.

“I'll be in my room,” Izuku's words echoed through the wood, each syllable laden with sadness. “The door is always open for you, Shouto.”

Shouto's hand twitched, his instinct urging him to reach out and open the door, to go after his brother and crush him in a hug. To assure Izuku everything would be fine. But a voice in his mind, Aizawa-Sensei's voice, reminded him of why he was doing that.

“For now, you need to keep this a secret from Izuku,” the words reverberated in his mind. “We don't know how he'll react if you tell him about this, and we can't risk tipping Endeavor on the plan.”

Shouto and Izuku knew each other— perhaps even better than they knew themselves. Shouto knew he couldn’t ever keep a secret from Izuku. Izuku would read him like an open book, and Shouto didn’t think he could look his brother in the eyes without breaking and telling him everything. So his only choice was to keep his distance from Izuku for now.

“It's just for a little while,” Shouto whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. “Then you'll be free,” he tried to argue. “You’ll be furious I kept this from you, but at least you'll be safe. This is necessary. I'm sorry, Izuku.” 

It was necessary, he reminded himself. But that didn't ease the pain of hearing his brother's desperate pleas.

Shouto had only heard that tone of voice from Izuku on three occasions before. The first had been when Touya died, and Izuku had desperately begged Natsuo to tell him that it wasn't true. 

The second was when their mother was sent away, and Izuku had cried as he questioned why she had to leave. As he asked why she hurt Shouto.

But it was the last time that haunted Shouto the most. It was in the hospital after Izuku's face was scarred when he had asked Shouto if Dad was coming to visit him. That had been the last time Izuku had referred to Endeavor as “Dad.” The memory of Izuku's voice, filled with longing and hope, pierced Shouto's heart with a pang of guilt.

Each time Izuku talked with such desperation, was after he had lost something or someone. Shouto knew the fear that gripped his brother's heart, and the terror of losing Shouto as well.

The secret was necessary. It was to make sure Izuku would be safe. To make sure his brother would be rescued.

“Shouto…” Izuku’s desperate voice echoed in Shouto’s ears. “Please, Shouto… Say something. Anything.”

It was necessary. But Shouto didn’t think he could ever forgive himself for hurting Izuku like that.

With a heavy sigh, Shouto allowed his body to slide down the door until he was seated on the floor, his back still pressed against the hard surface. He brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, trying to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over.

.. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- / -.--. -. --- / .. -- / -. --- - -.--.-

The weeks leading up to the Sports Festival felt like a whirlwind of intense training and mounting anxiety for Izuku. No matter how much Izuku wished time would slow down, the days slipped by in a blur, and before he knew it, the day of the festival was upon him.

As Izuku stood in the locker room with the rest of his classmates, already dressed in his gym uniform, he was honestly freaking out. He knew that after today, there would be no way to hide from his father that Izuku was on the hero course. Endeavor would be furious and Izuku had no doubt his father would try to make him leave the Hero Course.

Izuku only had one chance to keep his dream. He needed to place well enough in the festival. Ideally, he needed to win the whole thing, but he didn’t hold much hope he could defeat Shouto in a fight. Not only Shouto had a lot more training than Izuku - it was the truth no matter how much Izuku hated the reason behind it - Shouto’s quirk was also the perfect counter against Izuku’s. Defeating Shouto would be almost impossible.

So, getting on the podium was the second-best outcome. 

The event was nationally broadcast, and if Izuku placed well enough, it would be impossible for Endeavor to take Izuku out of the Hero Course without having the public ask too many questions. Questions Endeavor couldn’t afford to answer.

It wasn't a foolproof plan, but it was the only one Izuku had.

If he failed today, he could kiss his dream goodbye, not to mention whatever Endeavor would dish on him as punishment for going behind his back with this.

Failure was not an option.

Usually, when Izuku was like this, he could talk with Shouto, but in the last two weeks, Shouto had been keeping his distance from Izuku. 

His twin brother had made excuses to sit alone during lunch, and at home, he was always locked in his room. He even skipped their midnight hot cocoa sessions, something that hadn't happened since they were eight.

It hurt. Izuku wanted his brother. He wanted to hug Shouto. To talk with him. To ask why was Shouto distancing himself. What had Izuku done to push him away?

Kaminari and Shinso also realized something was wrong, but Shouto was unapproachable, and Izuku didn't have the answers to what was happening.

Kaminari was very touchy-feely and had given Izuku plenty of hugs this week, but no matter how warm he was, it wasn’t the same thing.

“Hey! Coldplay!” Bakugou’s loud voice - did he even have a concept of inside voice? - called, snapping Izuku’s out of his anxiety. “You’re strong. I’ll admit that the last time we fought I lost. But this won’t happen again, do you hear me? I’ll kick your ass today! So you better stop brooding and do your best, because if you lose to anyone before facing me I’ll kill you!!”

Izuku blinked, surprised by Bakugou's words. It was unusual, coming from someone known for their brashness. Yet, in its own way, it was the closest thing to encouragement anyone in the class had heard so far.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku nodded in response. Bakugou was right. Now wasn't the time to dwell on his worries. He had to focus on the task at hand and give it his all. Too much was at stake for him to back down now.

“Alright, Bakugou,” Izuku replied, rising to his feet. “Right back at you. You better not lose to anyone before me. I can't have my rival be a loser.”

“HUH!” Bakugou glared at him. “As if any of these useless extras could beat me!”

Several offended gasps sounded through the room, but Bakugou ignored them, turning his back and walking towards the entrance of the tunnel. Just then, Iida arrived, informing everyone that it was time to enter. Izuku was 90% sure this was supposed to be Kaminari’s job since he was the Vice-President. Oh well.

As Izuku walked with his class, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something important. The anticipation and nervous energy of the Sports Festival crackled in the air. 

He barely registered Present Mic’s super-biased introduction of the class, too absorbed in trying to remember what was slipping his mind. He felt a little bad about ignoring the man, but he was certain that what he was forgetting was crucial.

Then Midnight took the stage and announced it was time for the students' pledge. In that instant, everything clicked into place for Izuku. He had scored first in the entrance exam, which meant...

“And now, for the student pledge. From Class 1-A: Todoroki Izuku!” Midnight announced.

“FUCK!” Izuku yelled, making everyone turn to him in surprise at his outburst.

Izuku felt himself freeze in place. Everyone was looking at him, but that wasn’t what paralyzed him. No, the reason why Izuku froze was because, from the corner of his eye, he could see Endeavor in the stands.

The only reason Izuku could think of for Endeavor not to be screaming at him yet was because he was in shock from the revelation. However, even though he was too far away to make out his expression, Izuku saw the exact moment his father’s face shifted from shock to anger.

The silence felt suffocating as Izuku struggled to gather his thoughts. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat thundering in his ears. With a deep breath, he forced himself to move forward. He couldn't allow fear to paralyze him, not with so much at stake.

As he stepped onto the podium, he focused on blocking out the sight of his father and instead honed in on the task at hand. This was his moment to prove himself worthy of being in the Hero Course. With another deep breath, he began to speak, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

“We all have our reasons for being here today,” he declared, his voice growing stronger with each word. “We all have something to prove, whether it's to someone else or to ourselves. We are the heroes, the support engineers, the managers, and so much more of tomorrow.” He closed his eyes briefly, collecting his thoughts. “Tomorrow, some of you might be trusting your lives in our hands. I pledge to show today that this trust is well-placed. I pledge to give my all.” Raising a fist into the air, he concluded, “I pledge to Go Beyond…”

“PLUS ULTRA!” The resounding chant echoed throughout the entire stadium, a chorus of unity and determination.

As Izuku made his way back to his classmates, Present Mic's booming voice filled the air.

“And that was Todoroki Izuku! The twin brother of Todoroki Shouto and the youngest son of our number 2 hero, Endeavor!” His words reverberated through the stadium. “One is a recommendation student, while the other is the top scorer of the Hero Course Entrance Exam. Endeavor must be bursting with pride for both of them!”

Izuku noticed Endeavor clenching his teeth so hard that it seemed audible, despite the distance. However, after Present Mic's remarks, Endeavor seemed unable to say anything about Izuku without causing a scene.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, Izuku continued toward Hitoshi and Denki, who were waiting for him. He was safe…

For now.

Chapter Text

Endeavor sat in the stands, his expression an icy mask as he observed the festivities. He wasn’t here to enjoy the spectacle; he was here to evaluate potential future sidekicks, particularly his child. His eyes were set on his masterpiece, Shouto. Today would be the day Shouto would see the futility of his rebellion. 

No matter how strong Rei's ice was, it could only get him so far. Shouto wouldn't win this without using Endeavor's fire. This rebellion would end today. Shouto would either triumph or Endeavor would be forced to take drastic measures.

However, it seemed like Shouto wasn't his only son who was set on rebelling.

“And now, for the student pledge. From Class 1-A. Todoroki Izuku!” he heard Midnight announce.

Endeavor’s eyes narrowed as he watched his youngest son step forward. The silence that followed felt like an eternity as Endeavor’s shock morphed into a simmering rage. How had he missed this? Izuku, his disappointment of a son, had somehow managed to sneak his way into the hero course? He scored the highest in the entrance exams? How was that possible with such a useless quirk? Endeavor was sure his youngest was in General Studies. How dare he lie to his own father like that!?

Izuku’s speech barely registered in Endeavor’s mind. He was too focused on the implications of this revelation. He clenched his jaw so tightly that he could feel the pressure in his temples. His grip on the stadium railing tightened, his knuckles turning white.

As Izuku walked back to his class, Enji was about to yell at him when Present Mic's voice echoed through the stadium.

“And that was Todoroki Izuku, twin brother of Todoroki Shouto and the youngest son of our number two hero, Endeavor! One is a recommendation student while the other is the top scorer of the Hero Course Entrance Exam. Endeavor must be so proud of both of them!”

Pride was the last thing Endeavor felt. His eyes tracked Izuku, filled with fury and frustration. The boy had defied him, gone behind his back, and now stood publicly in the spotlight. Enji had told him, time after time, that he would only get himself killed if he tried to pursue heroics. The mere thought of Izuku standing at the same level as Shouto was offensive.

Endeavor wanted to yell, to demand that Izuku be taken from the competition. However, the crowd’s reaction pinned Endeavor in a corner; he couldn’t afford to make a scene without tarnishing his own reputation.

As he watched Izuku join two other nobodies, Endeavor seethed inwardly. The boy might have bought himself some time, but this was far from over. He would deal with Izuku later. For now, he had to maintain his composure. He couldn't afford to let his true feelings show, not here, not now. 

Izuku would just embarrass himself here. Everyone would see why he shouldn't be in the hero course. Then, once they were back home, Endeavor would deal with him. 

-.. --- . ... / .- -. -.-- --- -. . / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / - .-. .- -. ... .-.. .- - . / - .... .. ... ..--..

Izuku could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage, the pressure almost suffocating. The anticipation, fear, and overwhelming need to prove himself all mixed into a cocktail of anxiety that threatened to paralyze him.

The first and second rounds of the festival were little more than a blur in his mind. The obstacle course was quite easy, his skating skills gave him a significant advantage in mobility over most of the students. He finished third, just behind Shouto and Bakugou.

In the Cavalry Battle, he teamed up with Hitoshi, Denki, and a support course girl who had initially asked to join Shouto’s team but was turned down. Their team finished third, opting to not even try to get the ten million points headband. Bakugou narrowly managed to snatch the headband from Shouto in the last 10 seconds.

Now, the 1v1 fights loomed ahead, and as Izuku studied the brackets, a sigh of relief escaped him. If things went smoothly, he wouldn’t face Shouto until the semifinals. But first, he needed to defeat Denki and potentially Bakugou or a girl from Class 1-B, with Bakugou the likely victor due to his quirk being a big counter against Vines.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Izuku knew failure wasn't an option. But all this lay ahead after lunch, and he wasn't foolish enough to believe he could perform at his best on an empty stomach.

Walking towards the cafeteria, his mind swirled with worst-case scenarios. Spotting Shouto in the distance, walking alone and appearing as distant as ever, Izuku steeled himself and called out.

“Shouto!” His voice carried a mix of hope and apprehension.

Shouto paused but didn't turn immediately. Izuku quickened his pace, catching up.

“Shouto…” Izuku began, uncertain of the right words. “Would you like to sit with me for lunch?”

For a moment, Shouto remained silent, his gaze fixed somewhere far off, avoiding Izuku's eyes, a behavior entirely new to him.

“Sorry, Izuku. I can't,” Shouto said quietly, turning away.

“Wait, Shouto!” Izuku's hand found his brother's wrist. “Please. You've been distant all week. Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“I'm not angry, Izuku. Not at you,” Shouto finally spoke after a few moments of heavy silence. His voice carried a low, hesitant tone. “I just... I need some space right now.” With a gentle shrug, Shouto freed his wrist from Izuku's grasp. “Please. Don't follow me.”

Izuku felt a knot tighten in his chest, concern, confusion, and hurt swirling within him. Shouto's unusual behavior weighed heavily on his mind, but he nodded slowly, respecting his brother's request.

“Alright, Shouto,” Izuku replied softly, his disappointment evident in his voice. “I understand. If you need anything, though, I'm here, okay?”

Shouto gave a brief nod before continuing down the hallway, his strides purposeful and determined. Izuku sighed, his thoughts still preoccupied with worry for his brother, when suddenly he remembered something crucial.

“Oh no,” Izuku muttered under his breath, realizing he had forgotten the lunchbox Fuyumi had packed for him. He turned swiftly, hastening back to where he had left it, hoping he could retrieve it before it was too late.

As he hurried around a corner, his steps collided with something solid, causing him to lose his balance and tumble onto the floor.

“Ouch…” Izuku winced, rubbing his nose as he looked up. “Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was-”

“Izuku.” The growling voice cut through the air, freezing Izuku in place.

Izuku looked up, his heart sinking as he met Endeavor's intense gaze. The number two hero stood before him, towering and imposing, his eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

“Father,” Izuku managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

Endeavor's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. The air around them seemed to crackle with tension, and Izuku felt an overwhelming urge to shrink away, to disappear into the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Endeavor's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. “I thought I made myself clear. You are not suited for the hero course.”

Izuku had expected this. He really had. Yet, he couldn't help the disappointment that crept into his heart.

“Is it too much to ask for you to be proud of me just for once?” Izuku's voice trembled slightly as he fought to maintain his composure. “I've worked hard for this. I earned my place. I fought. I won. Yet, all you can see is that I'm not Shouto.”

Endeavor's expression remained stoic, unmoving. His eyes bore into Izuku with an intensity that made the air feel heavy.

“The only place this path will take you is to your grave,” Endeavor finally responded, his voice tight with restrained anger. “Your quirk isn't suited for this. Just because it's a little stronger than when you were younger doesn't mean it's enough.”

“A little stronger,” Izuku repeated bitterly, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You never even looked at us. Sometimes I'm surprised you even remember our names.” He looked up sharply, the movement causing the bang covering his scarred eye to shift. “You never cared for any of us. You don't even care about Shouto. He's just a tool to you. But let me tell you one thing, Father. Even if Shouto surpasses All Might one day, it won't change the fact that you'll always be second to him. You'll always be inferior to All Might.”

Endeavor's face twisted with fury, his eyes narrowing into slits as Izuku's words struck like barbs. The intensity of his glare could have melted steel. The air around them seemed to vibrate with tension, heavy with unspoken anger and disappointment.

“You insolent brat,” Endeavor hissed through gritted teeth, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “How dare you speak to me like that.”

Izuku held his ground, his expression a mix of defiance and pain. His heart raced, but he refused to back down. Years of bottled-up resentment and hurt surged to the surface, fueling his words.

“Like what!? I didn’t tell a single lie!” Izuku yelled back at him. “You might be a good hero. But you are no father, Endeavor! I hate you. Shouto hates you. Natsuo hates you. Touya hated you. The only one who still believes you can be better is Fuyumi, and even she is losing hope!”

Endeavor's face twisted in rage, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“You insolent child!” Endeavor roared, his voice echoing through the corridors. He raised his fist, and Izuku took a step back in fear.

“Izuku! Bro, there you are!” The sudden interruption caused both Izuku and Endeavor to turn sharply toward the source of the voice.

Denki approached, jogging down the hallway with a concerned expression hidden behind his usual smile.

“Hey, Denki. Is there a problem?” Izuku said, attempting to appear calm despite the tension.

“I've been looking everywhere for you,” Denki said breathlessly, putting an arm around Izuku's shoulders and pulling him closer. Izuku forced himself not to blush. “C'mon. Everyone is waiting for you. Lunch won't last forever.”

Izuku glanced back at Endeavor, his heart still racing from the confrontation. “Yeah. You're right,” he nodded. “Sorry, Father, we'll have to continue this later.”

Endeavor narrowed his eyes, and they locked eyes for a few seconds, neither speaking a single word. Then, with a final, seething glare, Endeavor turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Once they were sure he was gone, Denki sighed and squeezed Izuku's shoulder.  “Dude, that was terrifying.”

“How much did you hear?” Izuku asked softly.

Denki's expression softened with concern as he looked at Izuku. “Enough.”

Izuku sighed heavily and leaned his head on Denki's shoulder. “He's always like this. It doesn't matter what I do, I'll never be anything but a failure in his eyes!”

Denki tightened his grip on Izuku's shoulder, offering silent support. “I'm sorry, man. No one should have to deal with that.”

“The worst part is that I hate him!” Izuku's voice cracked with emotion. “I hate him so much. That bastard hurt Shouto. He made Mom leave. Touya died because of him. I hate him. I hate him. I HATE HIM!” His words spilled out, anger, sadness, sorrow, and pain, all mixing into an ugly cocktail. Then he lowered his voice. “So... Why can’t I help but want to hear him say he's proud of me?”

“I'm no therapist,” Denki began softly, choosing his words carefully. “And I can't say I understand what you're going through, because that would be a lie, and my Mom didn't raise a liar.” His attempt at humor earned a small, appreciative chuckle from Izuku. “But, I think it's normal to crave your father's approval. Despite everything, he's still your father. However, you just need to remember you don't need his approval to be worthy. To me, you've more than proved yourself already. I'm sure everyone in the class would agree.” He looked at Izuku earnestly and smiled. “I know it's not the same thing, but I'm proud of you, Izuku.”

Izuku blinked away tears, caught off guard by Denki's words. “You jerk! I was trying not to cry today!” He chuckled softly through the tears, feeling a weight lift from his chest. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, grateful for Denki's support.

Denki patted Izuku's shoulder gently. “It's okay to cry, man. As Kirishima would say, those are manly tears.”

Izuku nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the lingering pain. “Thanks, Denki. I really appreciate it. Let's... let's go get lunch.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Denki said warmly, before taking a step forward and crouching down in front of Izuku. “Hop on, Backpack.”

“You guys won't ever let me live this one down, will you?” Izuku groaned, but still climbed on Denki's back, instantly relaxing as he felt the warmth of his friend's body.

“Nope. But it's fine. You're a cute Backpack,” Denki teased with a grin. Izuku rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile.

Together, they walked towards the cafeteria, leaving behind the tension of the hallway and focusing on the simple pleasure of lunch with friends. For the first time in a long while, Endeavor was the last thing on Izuku's mind.

-.-. .- - ... / .- .-. . / - .... . / -... . ... -

As Denki went off in search of Izuku, Hitoshi's attention shifted to the second of the cold twins. Ever since Izuku came to school injured two weeks ago (Hitoshi had noticed despite Izuku's trying to hide it), Shouto had grown increasingly distant.

Usually, Hitoshi wouldn't mind someone needing space—God knows he occasionally needed it from Denki himself. He loved his friend dearly, but sometimes his exuberance could be overwhelming. However, Shouto's sudden coldness (pun unintended) was clearly affecting Izuku, and Hitoshi couldn't stand by and watch his friends suffer.

Finding Shouto sitting alone in the cafeteria with a bowl of soba, Hitoshi decided to take a direct approach. He set down his tray at the table and took a seat opposite Shouto.

“Hey, Shouto,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “I don't know what's going on right now, but you really need to talk to Izuku. Whatever happened between you two, it's clearly not doing either of you any good. Izuku has been completely down in the dumps, and while the Ice Prince routine is charming, you're taking it a bit too far. It's hurting him. And I think it's hurting you too.”

Shouto's gaze remained fixed on his bowl of soba, his expression unreadable. The usual cafeteria noise of students chatting and eating surrounded them, but between Shouto and Hitoshi, there was a tense silence.

“Look, Shouto,” Hitoshi continued, undeterred by the lack of response. "Izuku cares deeply about you. He's been torturing himself over whatever he did to make you—”

“He didn't do anything wrong!” Shouto interjected sharply, cutting off Hitoshi's words.

“Well, he certainly feels like he did,” Hitoshi pressed on, ignoring the interruption. “Imagine how it feels when your twin brother, someone you've been inseparable from for as long as you can remember, suddenly starts ignoring you and acting all cold and distant?”

Shouto remained silent, his focus still on his food, but Hitoshi noticed the slight tension in his shoulders. He wasn't sure if he was getting through, but he had to try.

“Shouto,” Hitoshi asked softly, “what's going on? I know you wouldn't push Izuku away like this without a reason. I've only known you two for less than a month, but I can see how much you mean to each other.”

Shouto's grip on his chopsticks tightened ever so slightly before he sighed and looked up.

“I'm hiding something from him,” Shouto admitted quietly, his voice tinged with conflict. “Something important, for his safety. I need to keep it hidden a little longer. He can't know yet.” He paused, anguish flickering in his eyes. “I know I'm hurting him. I never wanted to hurt him, but... I can't risk telling him, and he knows me too well. I can't lie to him. The only way to keep this secret is to keep my distance... It's just a little longer. Then he'll be free. I promise I'll tell him everything.”

Hitoshi studied Shouto's expression carefully. Usually, he was impossible to read, but right now, Hitoshi could see everything. Shouto dropped the mask completely.

“Then talk to me, Shouto,” Hitoshi offered gently. “I promise I won't tell Izuku. But keeping this bottled up is hurting you too. I'm Izuku's friend, yes, but I'm your friend too. You don't have to carry this alone.”

Shouto hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes before he finally nodded. He lowered his gaze for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before meeting Hitoshi's gaze with a determined look.

“Have you ever heard of quirk marriages?” Shouto started telling his story.

Hitoshi never liked the Number two hero. He always thought Endeavor was far too violent and caused too much damage. But after hearing Shouto's story, Hitoshi absolutely hates that man. He hopes Aizawa-Sensei and Nedzu really manage to get them out of this situation, otherwise, Hitoshi might brainwash him into walking on Japan's busiest highway.

Chapter Text

Izuku stood in the arena, trying to keep his face composed despite the nerves twisting in his chest. The atmosphere crackled with excitement, amplified by the deafening roar of the crowd. Present Mic was in his element, energizing the audience with his trademark exuberance.

“ YO, YO, YO, MY PEOPLE! ” Present Mic’s voice thundered through the speakers, his enthusiasm echoing as loudly through the arena. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for is finally here!”

From the other side of the announcers' booth, Aizawa-sensei’s deadpan voice sliced through the hype. “Time to watch some sanctioned violence between teenagers?”

Izuku couldn’t help but let out a soft snort at the comment. 

“Well, you’re not wrong, but you didn’t have to phrase it like that,” Present Mic shot back, his tone playful. “IT’S TIME FOR THE ONE-ON-ONES!”

The crowd’s cheers erupted in a deafening roar as the stage was set for the individual battles. Izuku took a deep breath, trying to block out the noise and center himself for the challenge ahead. His heart raced, but he knew he needed to remain calm and focused.

Present Mic’s voice boomed once more. “From the east side. I hope you guys brought your coats because it’s about to get cold in here!” Izuku took this as his cue. He stepped confidently into the arena. “From Class 1-A, we have the personification of winter himself…” Present Mic paused for dramatic effect. “TODOROKI IZUKU!”

As Izuku positioned himself at the center of the arena, the cheers from the crowd surged around him. He pointedly ignored Endeavor’s piercing glare from the stands.

“From the west side, you can feel the static in the air. Prepare your combs, because this performance is going to make your hair stand on end,” Present Mic continued, his voice vibrant with anticipation. Denki stepped into the arena, his energy almost visible. “The god of thunder from Class 1-A. KAMINARI DENKI!”

The crowd's excitement only intensified, and Izuku felt the electric tension in the air as the stage was set for the one-on-one battles to begin.

Midnight strode into the arena with her usual confident flair, immediately capturing the crowd's attention. The noise of the cheering audience tapered off as she took the microphone, ready to lay out the rules.

“The rules are simple,” Midnight’s voice rang out clearly, cutting through the anticipation. “The match will continue until one of you can’t continue, yields, or is thrown out of the ring. Give it your all, but remember—this is not a fight to the death. Are you both ready?”

“Born ready!” Kaminari declared with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Ready,” Izuku affirmed with a determined nod.

“Three, two,” Midnight began the countdown, her gaze flicking between the two combatants.

“Sorry, Denki,” Izuku said, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of seriousness. “But I can’t afford to lose here.”

“One…” Midnight continued, her tone steady and commanding.

“Come at me, bro,” Denki challenged with a wide grin, clearly eager for the fight. “Don’t go easy on me.”

“Start!” Midnight's voice rang out as she cracked her whip, signaling the beginning of the match.

Denki was the first to move, his body surging with electricity, crackling and snapping in the air around him. He darted forward with a speed that was impressive, his fist crackling with energy as he aimed a lightning-charged punch at Izuku.

Izuku couldn't help but smile at the sight. At the beginning of the year, Denki would have used his indiscriminate shock, hoping to finish the fight in one go. But now, Denki had clearly grown. He was fighting smarter, more controlled.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t enough.

Izuku’s eyes tracked Denki’s movements effortlessly, calculating the attack’s trajectory. The punch came fast, but it was just wide enough for Izuku to sidestep without breaking a sweat. The movement was fluid, precise, and Izuku countered in an instant, using Denki’s momentum against him. With one smooth motion, Izuku wrapped his arms around Denki in a tight bear hug, locking him in place.

Denki stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden embrace.

“Sorry, Denki,” Izuku murmured, his breath cool against Denki’s ear. “Ice Time!”

Before Denki could react, Izuku activated his quirk. The temperature around them plummeted sharply, and frost began to form along Denki’s limbs. Izuku used his own body as a conduit, drawing the heat from Denki and replacing it with biting cold.

Denki's struggle was immediate, electricity sparking in a desperate attempt to break free, but it was too late. The frost spread rapidly, climbing up Denki’s arms and legs, enveloping him in a thick layer of ice. Izuku could feel the faint tingling of Denki’s electricity attempting to push through, but the ice rendered it ineffective, insulating the energy and cutting it off.

Izuku released him, stepping back to give his friend space. Denki stood frozen mid-punch. A perfect ice sculpture.

The crowd was momentarily stunned into silence before erupting into cheers. Midnight watched closely, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the scene. When it became clear that Denki couldn’t free himself, she cracked her whip with a sharp snap.

“Kaminari Denki is immobilized!” Midnight’s voice echoed through the arena, silencing the crowd for just a moment. “Todoroki Izuku is the winner!”

The applause was deafening, the audience celebrating the clean victory. But Izuku’s focus remained on Denki, who stood frozen in place. With a calm step forward, Izuku placed his hand on Denki’s icy shoulder, pulling the coldness back into himself. The ice began to melt rapidly, thawing Denki from his frozen state.

As the frost melted from Denki’s face, he blinked, shivering slightly but smiling through the discomfort.

“Good fight,” Izuku said softly, his voice warm despite the cold mist leaving his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” Denki groaned, his teeth chattering slightly. “But man, you didn’t have to freeze me like a popsicle!” Despite his words, the grin on his face showed he wasn’t upset in the slightest.

Izuku chuckled. “You asked me not to go easy on you, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to use the same technique you used on the freaking Nomu.” Denki rolled his eyes but laughed, shaking out his limbs as the last of the ice melted away. “Next time, I’ll make sure you won’t get the chance to pull that stunt again.”

“You can surely try,” Izuku replied with a smirk, the competitive spark in his eyes alive as he and Denki strolled side by side out of the arena. Despite the high-stakes atmosphere, there was an undeniable ease between them now that the tension of their match had melted away. Both still buzzed with adrenaline, their earlier rivalry fading into friendly banter.

Present Mic’s enthusiastic voice boomed behind them, saying something about sportsmanship and camaraderie, but neither of them paid much attention. Their focus remained on the lingering thrill of the fight and the shared relief that it was over.

As they made their way back toward the class stands, Izuku veered off to the side, quickly grabbing a thick coat and his signature scarf from the storage area. His body was still radiating cold from the battle, a familiar chill that clung to him after using his ice quirk so intensely. He wrapped the scarf around his neck, grateful for the warmth.

Once they returned to the rest of the class, they were met with an excited buzz. Class 1-A swarmed around Izuku, showering him with congratulations on his victory.

Once things settled down, Izuku settled into a seat between Hitoshi and Denki. The adrenaline from his own match still hummed through him, but now he was focused on the upcoming fight. The crowd’s anticipation built once more as the next contenders entered the arena.

Present Mic introduced Shiozaki and Bakugou with his usual dramatic flair and Izuku watched as the two fighters entered the arena.

Like Izuku predicted, the fight was quick. Shiozaki is strong, and her quirk is amazing, but she clearly didn't do well against the heat from Bakugou's explosions, and against his sheer aggressiveness? She was thrown out of the arena in less than a minute.

Shouto vs Sero was even faster. Izuku noticed as soon as his brother stepped into the arena that Shouto was furious. As Izuku looked around, he realized that he couldn't see Endeavor anywhere, which could only mean that he went to talk, or rather berate, Shouto before the fight.

Poor Sero. The fight was over before it could even start. As soon as Midnight cracked her whip, Shouto stomped on the floor and sent a giant glacier. The attack almost reached the stands, leaving everyone gaping in shock at the insane display of power.

Izuku knew better, though. Shouto had firepower but usually had much better control over his quirk.

Hatsume versus Iida turned out to be the longest bout by far, though calling it a “fight” felt like a stretch.

The support course student managed to trick Iida into becoming her show dummy in an over 10-minute-long presentation of all her “babies.” Once she was done, Hatsume simply left the ring, allowing Iida to pass to the next round. It was hard not to laugh at Iida's dejected expression as he realized he was fooled.

Ashido put up a good fight, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get past Dark Shadow and was ultimately thrown out of the ring. 

The bout between Kirishima and Tetsutetsu was best described as redundant. It devolved into a prolonged, somewhat monotonous exchange of punches, ending in a tie. The two later settled the score with an arm wrestling match, which Kirishima won.

Momo’s fight against Honenuki was a surprising spectacle. After being trapped on the floor by Honenuki’s softening quirk, Momo pulled off an unexpected move. She unleashed a powerful cannon attack that no one, including Honenuki, had anticipated. The blast propelled Honenuki all the way to his class stands, leaving the crowd stunned as Momo walked out of the arena, the cannon in tow.

The final match of the round was Hitoshi versus Awase from Class 1-B, and it was over in a flash. Awase unfortunately didn’t have enough self-control to stay quiet against Hitoshi. He answered Hitoshi’s prompt without hesitation, immediately falling under Hitoshi’s control and walking out of the arena.

Well, this was fun. But now Izuku had to go back to the waiting room as his fight would come next. He definitely wasn’t about to lose to Bakugou, but he knew the fight would be a lot harder than the first time.

.-.. . - / -- . / .-- .- ... - . / -.-- --- ..- .-. / - .. -- . / .- / .-.. .. - - .-.. . / -- --- .-. .

Katsuki Bakugou paced restlessly at the arena entrance, his fists clenched and his jaw set. The familiar crackle of restless energy buzzed beneath his skin, demanding an outlet. The roar of the crowd was a distant hum; his entire focus was on the impending rematch with Coldplay. The wait since the battle trials on the second day of class had felt interminable, but the time had finally come.

He hated to admit it, but Coldplay had handed his ass to him last time. Katsuki had been outmatched in every way—faster, more precise, and Coldplay’s quirk had countered his with ruthless efficiency. That loss had stung deep, and Katsuki wasn’t one to make excuses. A loss was a loss, plain and simple.

That’s why he had thrown himself into training with an obsessive focus. He studied every move Coldplay made, dissected every technique, and meticulously adjusted his strategy. He knew how Coldplay fought and where his weaknesses lay.

Unlike Katsuki, who only got stronger as the fight dragged on, Coldplay was all about ending the fight swiftly. The longer it went, the colder he got—strengthening his quirk but also limiting his time. Coldplay’s resistance to the cold was minimal, and Katsuki planned to use that to his advantage.

This time, it was going to be different. Katsuki was determined to turn the tables. He was ready. This time, he was going to win.

“Heya, my listeners and watchers! After this brief intermission, we’re back with the Quarter-finals!” Cockatoo-Sensei’s voice roared through the speakers, charging the atmosphere with electric excitement. The crowd's anticipation reached a fever pitch, their energy palpable as they prepared for the next round of battles.

“Can we stop wasting time?” Hobo-Sensei’s voice cut through, as unimpressed as ever.

“You have no appreciation for the theatrics, Eraser,” Cockatoo-Sensei shot back, though his tone remained light-hearted. “But yes, we can get on with it. So, without further ado: from the east, with a lightning-fast victory in his first match and an exemplary record throughout the festival, we have the icy-cold prince of Class 1-A. TODOROKI IZUKU!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as Coldplay made his entrance, his expression calm and collected. Despite the bored facade, Katsuki noticed the way Coldplay briefly scanned the stands before setting his eyes on the field ahead.

Cockatoo-Sensei's voice continued to boom, “And now, from the west. With a personality that only a mother could tolerate and a vocabulary that would make even a sailor blush. With the explosive power of a Tsar Bomba in each hand and a dominant performance throughout the festival, we have BAKUGOU KATSUKI!”

The crowd’s roar grew louder, a wave of energy washing over the arena as Katsuki stepped into view. The stage was set, and the clash everyone had been waiting for was about to begin.

As Katsuki stepped into the arena, his gaze locked onto Coldplay with unwavering intensity. His eyes narrowed and the familiar surge of competitive fire ignited within him. The crowd’s cheers faded into a distant roar, leaving only the sharp focus of the impending fight.

Bitch-Sensei, stepping into the center of the arena with her usual flair, raised her microphone to address the competitors. “The rules remain the same as before: the match will continue until one of you can’t continue, yields, or is thrown out of the ring. I don't think I need to say it, but give it your all. Are you both ready?”

Coldplay nodded, pulling his hands out of his pockets and locking eyes with Katsuki. “Ready.”

“Ready!” Katsuki replied, a feral grin spreading across his face.

“Three, two…” Bitch-Sensei began the countdown, her gaze shifting between the two fighters.

“You better come at me with everything you’ve got, Coldplay. Otherwise, I’m gonna kill you!!” Katsuki's voice cut through the air, sharp and fierce.

“One…” Bitch-Sensei said, then cracked her whip. “Start!”

The moment Bitch-Sensei’s whip cracked through the air, signaling the start of the match, Katsuki exploded into action. His quirk roared to life, a storm of blinding, searing explosions erupting from his hands as he surged forward with relentless speed.

But as Katsuki closed in, he felt the temperature drop sharply. Coldplay was already reaching for him, his quirk unleashing a wave of chilling cold to freeze Katsuki in place like he did with Pikachu. Reacting swiftly, Katsuki fired an explosion to alter his trajectory, pivoting deftly in mid-air.

He landed with a powerful blast aimed directly at Coldplay’s back. The explosion cracked through the air with intense force, but as the smoke cleared, Katsuki saw Coldplay’s back covered in a thick layer of ice, which had absorbed the brunt of the explosion.

“Figured you wouldn't go down so easy,” Katsuki said, his smirk widening.

“You definitely got better, Firecracker,” Coldplay replied, returning the smirk. “Let’s see if you can dodge this!”

With a flick of his wrist, Coldplay unleashed a sweeping wave of icy cold that spread rapidly across the arena. Katsuki leaped into the air, releasing a series of explosions to propel himself upward. He narrowly avoided the frozen floor, which quickly transformed into a landscape of sharp icicles and slick ice where he had just stood.

As Katsuki soared through the air, he surveyed the frozen battlefield below. Coldplay was already preparing his next move, his gaze fixed intently on Katsuki. The ice-covered floor gave Coldplay control over the arena, and Katsuki knew he couldn't afford to let his opponent dominate.

Giving a feral grin, Katsuki began his descent. As he fell, he aimed an explosion directly at the ice-covered floor. The blast struck with precision, shattering the ice and sending fragments flying in all directions. He covered his face against the debris, but once the dust and cold mist settled, the floor was no longer a treacherous ice field.

Katsuki glanced at Coldplay, who had lifted his right hand to his cheek, wiping away a small cut caused by a shard. Coldplay studied the blood on his hand for a moment before looking back at Katsuki. Without a word, he stomped hard on the floor, sending a new wave of ice surging toward Katsuki. Once again, Katsuki leaped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the advancing ice.

Playing on the defensive wasn’t Katsuki’s style, but he noted the mist forming from Coldplay’s mouth, a sign of his quirk’s strain.

“You're trembling, Coldplay,” Katsuki taunted, his voice slicing through the air with sharpness. “Is it the cold, or just fear?”

Coldplay's eyes narrowed at Katsuki’s taunt, the chill in the air intensifying as his breath misted. Without a word, he stomped again, instantly freezing the ground beneath him. But this time, he didn’t stay still—he slid forward on the ice, using the terrain to close the distance between them with alarming speed.

Katsuki’s reflexes kicked in, but Coldplay was faster. Katsuki attempted to dodge, but a split second too late. Coldplay’s fist connected with his chest, and Katsuki felt an immediate surge of freezing cold spread from the point of impact. The force of the blow sent him skidding back, and as he regained his footing, he glanced down to see a layer of frost rapidly spreading across his torso.

Shit. Even the smallest touch is dangerous with this guy.

Katsuki grimaced as the cold seeped into his muscles, stiffening his movements. Without hesitation, he placed his right hand on his stomach and let off a series of small explosions, using the heat to melt away the frost. The warmth spread through his body, loosening the ice’s grip, but he knew he couldn't afford to get hit again.

With a low growl, Katsuki's eyes flashed with renewed fury. “That all you got, Coldplay?” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “You can't keep this up for long!”

Coldplay’s expression didn’t waver, but a grin crept onto his face. “You're right,” he replied coolly, his voice steady despite the tremors wracking his body. “But you can’t either. How are your wrists?”

Katsuki frowned, his eyes flicking to his hands. He could feel the strain in his wrists from keeping himself airborne and unleashing so many explosions in quick succession. His body was heating up, but he was starting to feel the effects of dehydration. Coldplay was right—it wasn't too bad just yet, but it was building.

“Let's finish this with the next attack!” Katsuki yelled, his voice booming across the arena. His eyes burned with determination, and every muscle in his body tensed for the final clash. 

Coldplay nodded, his icy breath clouding the air as he prepared himself, the cold mist swirling around him like a storm. Both fighters knew the next move would decide everything.

The air between them thickened with tension, the battlefield crackling with the anticipation of the impending clash. Katsuki crouched low, palms aimed downward as he built up energy for his final move. Coldplay, still shivering, clenched his fists as jagged, crystalline formations of ice began to swirl around him. 

For a moment, everything was still.

And then they moved.

Katsuki shot into the air, propelled by a powerful explosion that left a scorched crater on the arena floor. He rocketed high above, angling himself for a devastating descent. His palms sizzled, sweat beading on his forehead as he funneled every ounce of strength into his next attack.

Coldplay wasn’t idle. With a roar, he stomped the ground one last time, sending the swirling cold in a shockwave of ice toward Katsuki.

“ Winter Fury! ” The icy storm surged, sharp spires of ice and freezing winds spiraling toward Katsuki, cutting into his skin. The temperature around him dropped dangerously, freezing the sweat and blood on his skin. But Katsuki knew he could still ignite the frozen sweat. 

Katsuki grinned fiercely, refusing to back down. He twisted mid-air, dodging as many icy spires as he could with rapid bursts of explosions. With a roar of defiance, he dove headfirst toward Coldplay.

“ Howitzer Impact! ” Katsuki bellowed, his voice echoing across the arena. His body spun like a fiery drill, surrounded by a cyclone of blazing explosions. The sheer force of his attack melted through the icy barriers Coldplay summoned, cutting a burning path straight to his opponent.

The impact was direct. Katsuki’s attack collided with Coldplay’s chest, sending him hurtling across the arena. Mist, steam, smoke, and dust erupted, engulfing the battlefield. The entire stadium fell silent, waiting to see who remained standing after the devastating clash.

As the smoke slowly cleared, all eyes focused on the center of the arena. Katsuki, drenched in sweat, blood, and panting heavily, stood, fists still crackling with the last remnants of his explosions. Across from him, Coldplay struggled to stay upright, frost clinging to his skin, his legs trembling from exhaustion.

Then, with a soft crack, the ice beneath Coldplay’s feet gave way, and he collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath.

Katsuki grinned victoriously, though his own body was on the brink of collapse. “Well played, Coldplay,” he muttered before his legs finally gave out beneath him. He fell on his back, staring up at the sky as the last of his energy drained from him.

Bitch-Sensei approached with her usual authoritative tone. “Bakugou, can you get up?”

Katsuki groaned, trying to move, but his arms refused to obey him. “No,” he grumbled, clearly frustrated but too exhausted to care.

Bitch-Sensei smirked. “Bakugou Katsuki cannot continue. The winner of this round is Todoroki Izuku!”

The deafening roar of the crowd washed over the arena, but Katsuki barely registered it. His body lay sprawled on the cold ground, every muscle aching, the exhaustion sinking deeper by the second. He gritted his teeth, frustration boiling in his chest. He had come so close. Too close. Both had given everything, but this time, Coldplay had narrowly claimed victory.

Above him, Coldplay stood up shakily, limping toward Katsuki. Despite his victory, Coldplay looked just as worn out as Katsuki felt, his body covered in patches of frost and bruises from the intense battle. He extended a hand, offering Katsuki help.

Even after everything, Katsuki couldn’t help but glare at him. Nevertheless, he accepted the hand and pushed himself up, the effort making him wince. The two walked out of the arena together, leaning on each other as neither could walk straight right now.

Cockatoo-Sensei’s enthusiastic voice blared on, extolling the virtues of camaraderie and sportsmanship, while Bitch-Sensei added something about the energy of youth turning her on. Katsuki ignored both, too focused on his own discomfort.

The pair made their way toward the infirmary, determined not to let the robotic assistants carry them when they could still manage on their own.

“Tch… enjoy it while it lasts, Coldplay,” Katsuki muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. “Next time, you’re dead.”

Coldplay managed a strained smile, his eyes reflecting exhaustion but also respect. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good fight, Katsuki.” He extended a fist.

Katsuki hesitated for a moment, then, with a grunt, he bumped his fist against Coldplay’s. “Good fight... Izuku.”

The two limped their way to the infirmary, and after a moment of shared silence, Katsuki entered first. He had lost this time, but he was resolute. He would win their next fight.

Chapter Text

Izuku sat in the infirmary, his eyes glued to the screen as he watched Shouto decisively overpower Iida in their match. Each blow his brother delivered reverberated through Izuku’s chest, a stark reminder of the strength and skill Shouto possessed. The display illuminated the contrasting dynamics between Shouto’s cool, collected demeanor and Iida’s determined yet ultimately futile efforts. Izuku felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as Iida struggled against the onslaught, his movements becoming increasingly desperate.

Even though Recovery Girl had worked her magic, healing the wounds that marred his body, Izuku felt utterly drained, the remnants of fatigue clinging to him like a heavy shroud. The toll of his previous fight weighed on his bones, a reminder of the struggle he had just endured. Despite Recovery Girl's insistence that he consider withdrawing from the competition, Izuku had been resolute. He had sacrificed too much and trained too hard to allow himself to back down now.

He clenched his fists, determination flaring within him despite the fatigue threatening to drag him down. He couldn’t let himself falter. He couldn’t let this be the end of his journey. The best Recovery Girl could do was keep him in the infirmary until his match began, her worried glances doing little to ease his anxiety.

The tension in the room was palpable as he and Recovery Girl kept an eye on the matches unfolding outside. He watched as Tokoyami’s fight against Kirishima ended swiftly, followed by Hitoshi’s quick victory over Yaomomo. The speed of those battles only heightened Izuku's anxiety. Time was slipping away, and he needed to be ready.

Finally, the moment he had both dreaded and longed for arrived. As he stepped into the arena, a chill ran down his spine, the air crisp and biting. He could see his breath misting before him, a stark reminder of the cold that seemed to seep into his very bones. Despite his efforts to warm up, he still felt the oppressive chill clinging to him, his body stuck at a level 2. He knew that as the fight progressed, he would have no choice but to push himself into level 4. There was no way he could hold back against Shouto; the stakes were too high, and the pressure was on.

As he stood across from his brother, ready for their fight, anxiety fluttered in his chest. Truth be told, Izuku held little hope that he could defeat Shouto. But that didn’t matter. He had to put on a good fight. Winning or losing, he had already come far enough to reach the podium, but he still needed to prove that he was close to his brother in power. 

He wouldn’t let Endeavor take his dream from him. This was his only chance to stand with Shouto, to show that he belonged here, fighting alongside him as an equal. With a deep breath, he steeled himself, the resolve hardening in his heart. No matter the outcome, he would give it everything he had.

-.. . ... .--. . .-. .- - .. --- -. / .. ... / -.. .- -. --. . .-. --- ..- …

The moment Shouto spotted Izuku stepping into the arena, a gnawing unease settled in his gut. There was something off about his brother—something subtle yet unmistakable. Izuku stood poised yet restless, his intensity radiating as his gaze darted around, as if trying to dissect every micro-movement Shouto made. The frantic puffs of cold breath escaping his mouth came too quickly, revealing his desperation.

“You two know the rules,” Midnight announced, her voice cutting through the tension and carrying across the arena. “So let's start the countdown.”

Shouto narrowed his eyes at Izuku, dread swelling within him. This level of desperation wasn’t a good sign. He hoped his brother wasn’t about to push himself too far, risking injury or worse.

“Three…” Midnight began, and Shouto’s heart raced, anticipation electrifying the air. “Two…”

The moment stretched on, the tension thick enough to cut. Shouto took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. He needed to finish this fight quickly; he couldn’t allow Izuku to go beyond his limits.

“One… Start!” Midnight declared, and suddenly, the world around them erupted into action.

Shouto stomped hard on the ground, channeling his Ice through the floor with the intention of ending this in one swift motion. Ice erupted from the ground beneath him, spreading out like a blanket, ready to encase the arena. But to his surprise, Izuku mirrored his movement, pushing his own power into the floor.

Their attacks collided at the center of the arena with a thunderous impact, sending shards of ice and vapor spiraling outward. A massive iceberg began to form, towering above them and threatening to engulf the arena, almost reaching the spectators in the stands. The force of their powers combined created an overwhelming wave of cold that sent a shiver through the audience, drawing gasps and cheers.

Mic-Sensei commented on their overwhelming power, but Shouto was too focused to hear him. He could see Izuku on the other side of the arena, the clear ice revealing his brother's face, already starting to frost over. Izuku was at stage 3, and Shouto’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Izuku, what are you—” Shouto began, but before he could finish, Izuku stepped forward and placed a hand on the giant iceberg.

With an unexpected surge, Izuku absorbed the coldness, melting the ice instantly and freeing the arena. “Izuku! Are you crazy?” Shouto shouted, a mix of panic and concern flooding his voice.

Izuku didn’t respond. Instead, he crouched down and froze the floor beneath him, his breath coming in quick bursts as he prepared for his next move.

“Let’s dance, Shouto,” he said, a determined glint in his eye as he began to skate across the icy surface.

Izuku was incredibly fast, his movements a blur against the icy arena, but Shouto could still track him. The chill of the air intensified as he noticed the ice accumulating in Izuku's hands, creeping up his arms beneath the long sleeves of his uniform.

“Izuku, you can’t keep this up!” Shouto shouted, urgency lacing his voice. He stomped once more, sending a freezing wave surging toward his brother. But Izuku leapt over it with an agility that made Shouto's heart race, the determination in his eyes unmistakable.

“What are you doing, Izuku? You’ll hurt yourself!” Shouto yelled, panic creeping into his tone. “You can’t handle so much cold!”

Izuku landed lightly, the ice cracking under his weight as he slid into position. The frost continued to creep higher up his arms, and Shouto could see it inching up to his elbows.

"I'm still here, Shouto!" Izuku growled, his voice fierce. "Stop underestimating me and fight!"

Shouto attempted to freeze him again, but Izuku dodged and landed a kick squarely on Shouto’s stomach, enough to send him reeling if he hadn’t managed to put up an ice barrier in time. "Look at me, Shouto! I'm here!" Izuku's voice was a low snarl. "I'm not weak. Stop treating me like I'm made of glass."

"Izuku, you're going too far," Shouto said, his tone pleading, desperation creeping into his words. "You'll cripple yourself if this continues."

"I can still stand!" Izuku shot back, determination in his voice as he stomped the floor. Shouto felt the ice creeping up his leg, catching him off guard as Izuku seized the moment. "Pay attention to the fight, Shouto. You're stronger than that. You're stronger than me even with half your power."

Shouto's breath hitched. Izuku wasn’t one to bring up his fire. Ever since Shouto stopped using it, Izuku had respected his decision, even if he never agreed with it. But now, Shouto could feel the weight of Izuku's unspoken resentment.

His brother had trained himself to the absolute limit to get where he was today, while Shouto had chosen to limit himself to half his power. The thought struck Shouto like a punch to the gut; he knew it felt like a slap in the face to Izuku, a reminder of what he could do but refused to embrace.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, SHOUTO?” Izuku screamed at him, driving a knee into Shouto’s belly that knocked the wind out of him. “Am I really so weak that you can't even bring yourself to fight me!?”

With each punch that landed against Shouto's face, he could feel the frigid cold radiating from Izuku's hands, each strike a reminder of the toll this battle was taking on his brother. “I can't do anything! I can't protect you! I can't stand by your side! You won't even talk to me anymore!”

Shouto’s heart sank at the pain etched into Izuku’s voice, the desperation clawing its way to the surface. “Am I nothing but a burden to you, Shouto? Am I not even worth your time? What happened to our promise?”

Those words struck Shouto like a physical blow. His eyes widened, as memories long forgotten crashed over him.

Five-year-old Shouto sat curled under Izuku’s blanket in his small bedroom, the dim glow of a flashlight illuminating the pages of an All Might comic. They huddled together, the cozy warmth of the blanket a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to linger in Shouto’s bones. He was covered in bruises and bandages from the particularly brutal training session his father had put him through that day, a harsh reminder of the expectations placed upon him.

Izuku’s cold hand rested soothingly on the bruise on Shouto's back, a comfort in the midst of pain. “Why is Dad always so mean to you? That’s not fair. I wish I could do something,” he had said, his voice small but fierce, a spark of defiance glowing in his bright green eyes.

“One day. I know you’re strong too, Izuku,” Shouto had replied softly, a gentle smile touching his lips despite the hurt. “We’ll be heroes together. Heroes like All Might. We will save each other.”

Izuku's face lit up with that infectious grin, his determination shining brighter than the flashlight’s beam. “Then you can’t hold back on me, Shouto. You go ahead, and I'll catch up with you,” he declared, extending his pinky finger with an earnestness that made Shouto’s heart swell. “We’ll show Dad that we can be the best heroes. Together.”

Shouto smiled and linked his pinky with Izuku’s. “Together. Forever. It’s a promise.”

Snapping back to the present, Shouto was overwhelmed by the weight of that promise. How had he forgotten?

“How could I forget about that?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he reached out and grabbed Izuku's wrist just before another punch could land. “I’m sorry, Izuku. I’ve been a horrible brother.”

As he spoke, Shouto felt a surge of warmth in his left hand, radiating outwards and melting the ice that had begun to creep up Izuku's face. The coldness began to recede, and for the first time in this fight, Izuku’s expression softened, if only for a moment.

“Thank you for making me remember,” Shouto continued, his voice steadying. “It’s time I stopped being stupid.”

He let go of Izuku’s wrist, and the tension in the air shifted slightly as Izuku stepped back, a hesitant smile breaking through the frustration and pain that had clouded his features.

“Let’s do this, Shouto,” Izuku said, a fierce determination sparking in his eyes as he steadied his stance, a playful edge creeping into his expression.

“You told me to go all out, Izuku.” Shouto’s voice was steady, and the flames on his left side began to rise, matching the frost forming on his right. His two powers flared to life, raw and unrestrained, creating a halo of heat and cold around him. “Don’t complain about what happens now.”

“I won’t,” Izuku replied, his voice calm as the cold winds swirled around him.

Not another word was needed.

With a surge of energy, Shouto unleashed a torrent of fire and ice, hurling both forces forward with unrelenting power. Izuku met him with an equally fierce blast of cold, and their attacks collided with a tremendous impact at the arena’s center, twisting into a spinning vortex of fire and frost.

The crowd gasped, barely able to comprehend the intensity of the clash. Fiery reds and icy blues merged and collided in a breathtaking storm, each brother refusing to yield an inch as heat and cold danced in chaotic harmony.

Shouto gritted his teeth, pouring even more fire into the vortex, his flames rising higher, relentless and untamed. For the first time, he allowed his left and right sides to fully harmonize, ice and fire working in unison with a fierce purpose he hadn’t felt in years. Flames seared the air, while ice crept up his right arm in jagged crystals, mirroring his inner resolve.

Across the arena, Izuku pushed himself forward, his cold wind intensifying into a frigid gale that met Shouto’s heat head-on. Frost spread across his arms, creeping up toward his shoulders, and despite the strain, his eyes remained focused, burning with unbreakable resolve. He matched Shouto’s power with equal strength, refusing to falter or give ground.

The vortex of fire and ice widened, its ferocity growing as embers and shards of frost sprayed outwards, a beautiful yet volatile display that filled the arena with light and shadow. Izuku let out a sharp breath and took a step forward, forcing more cold from his body, sending it into the vortex with every ounce of his strength.

The arena trembled, everyone covered their faces to protect themselves from the harsh winds created by the clash. Present Mic’s voice was lost in the deafening roar as fire and ice clashed with renewed vigor, shards of frost and bursts of flame scattering across the floor like shooting stars.

Shouto’s muscles strained, but he locked his gaze on Izuku, seeing the unyielding determination in his brother’s eyes. They both knew what was at stake—this was more than a battle; it was a testament to the promise they’d made to each other long ago.

Then, finally, the vortex reached its breaking point.

With a thunderous crack, the combined force of their powers exploded outward, sending waves of cold and heat rippling through the arena. Steam billowed up, blanketing the entire field, while Shouto felt the shockwave threaten to knock him off his feet. He barely managed to brace himself, freezing his feet to the ground just in time.

A hushed silence fell over the stadium as the steam began to clear, the crowd holding its breath, waiting to see who would emerge victorious.

When the mist finally dissipated, Shouto stood in the center of the arena, on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Across from him, Izuku lay on his back at the edge of the field, just out of bounds.

“Todoroki Izuku is out of bounds!” Midnight’s voice rang out over the arena. “The victory goes to Todoroki Shouto!”

Shouto took several deep breaths, his lungs burning as he struggled to steady himself. Every inch of his body ached, muscles strained and bruised from the intensity of the battle, and beads of sweat mingled with the fading frost on his skin. His vision swam slightly, the familiar signs of quirk exhaustion creeping in. He doubted he could even summon a spark or an ice crystal if he tried right now.

But he forced himself up, his legs trembling, and stumbled toward Izuku, who lay on his back, breathing shallowly. Izuku’s face was flushed and frostbitten, patches of white on his skin showing where the cold had pushed him to his limits. Shouto felt a pang of worry; he knew how dangerously close Izuku had come to injuring himself for the sake of this fight.

He noticed the medbots approaching, whirring as they prepared to tend to Izuku. But Shouto waved them away, crouching down and scooping Izuku up in a gentle, albeit shaky, bridal carry. Ignoring the startled murmur from the crowd, as well as Present Mic’s enthusiastic commentary about “brotherly love” and “heartwarming family moments,” he turned and made his way slowly toward the infirmary, his steps heavy but determined.

Izuku stirred, eyes barely open, his gaze hazy but focused on Shouto. “One day…” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion, “I’ll catch up…” He managed a faint smile, his face relaxing as he let his head lean against Shouto’s left shoulder, the warmth soothing him.

Shouto glanced down, his own expression softening as he held Izuku a little closer. He could feel the weight of their shared struggle, their promise, and the bond they’d fought to preserve. “You already did,” he whispered, a small smile breaking through the exhaustion.

As Shouto stepped into the dimly lit tunnel, Izuku held close in his arms, a prickling tension cut through his exhaustion. Standing in the middle of the passage, arms crossed and framed by shadow, was Endeavor. The glare of his father’s fiery gaze bore into Shouto, seething with disapproval.

“That was an embarrassing performance,” Endeavor said, his tone thick with disappointment. “You should have been able to win easily against him. But at least this little rebellion of yours is over. You can finally start following your purpose.”

Shouto’s grip on Izuku tightened, and he met his father’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “I’m not over anything,” he replied, his voice calm yet edged with defiance. “I just remembered that I made a far more important promise—long before I ever hated you.” He took a step forward, his tone turning sharp. “And Izuku is much stronger than you think. If you can’t see that, then you’re more blind than I thought.”

Without waiting for a response, Shouto strode past Endeavor, each step feeling like another victory over the chains his father had tried to place on him. To his surprise, Endeavor didn’t follow, his silhouette remaining motionless in the tunnel’s gloom.

Just as Shouto turned the corner, he thought he heard his father murmur something, low and almost reluctant. “I guess, in the end, he wasn’t as weak as I thought.” The words were so quiet that Shouto wondered if he’d imagined them.

Shaking his head, he pushed on, his focus on Izuku. Soon, he reached the infirmary, where Recovery Girl was waiting with a sharp look of reprimand in her eyes.

“You Todoroki boys are stubborn as bricks!” she scolded, waving him over as he gently laid Izuku down. “Reckless, both of you!”

But not even her exasperated lecture could sour Shouto’s mood. For the first time in a long time, he felt light. Maybe he was finally ready to step out of his father’s shadow. For real this time.

As he looked at Izuku’s sleeping figure, he made a promise. Once his brother woke up, he would talk to him. And he would tell him everything. He was done hiding things from Izuku.

Chapter Text

Shouto had never doubted he would make it to the finals. Some might have called it arrogance, but he knew better—it was simply an understanding of his abilities. Few in his class could match his raw power. Bakugou, with his explosive quirk, was probably the only one who could rival his firepower. Yaoyorozu might have been a challenge if she had enough time to strategize, and Tokoyami could pose a threat if Shouto was still being stupid and refusing to use Endeav- his fire.

But he had counters for all of them. Beyond his quirk, Shouto had an edge that no one else in Class 1-A could match—years of grueling, relentless training. As much as he hated his father for it, Endeavor had molded him into a fighter from the moment he could walk. Shouto had been trained for this his entire life.

Yet, as confident as he was in his abilities, he had underestimated Izuku. He was ashamed to admit it, but somewhere deep down, he had unconsciously absorbed some of his father’s dismissive attitude toward his brother. It was a mistake that had nearly cost him the fight. Izuku was anything but weak. Even though Shouto won, the battle against Izuku had pushed him to his absolute limits—and beyond.

Now, as Shouto stood in the center of the arena for the final match against Hitoshi, he felt the weight of that cost. His quirk was completely drained. He couldn’t summon even a faint chill of frost or the smallest flicker of flame. His body was screaming for rest, his muscles aching with every movement.

For a brief moment, the thought of forfeiting crossed his mind. It wasn’t cowardice—it was pragmatism. Without his quirk, his chances against Hitoshi were slim. Hitoshi wasn’t just a skilled fighter; he was cunning, fighting with the same ruthless efficiency as Aizawa-sensei. He didn’t need a flashy quirk to dominate in hand-to-hand combat. Shouto, on the other hand, was a long-range fighter, reliant on his elemental abilities to keep opponents at bay.

Forfeiting was the smart choice.

But Shouto had never claimed to be smart.

Instead, he rolled his shoulders back, forcing himself to stand tall despite the exhaustion weighing him down. The cheers of the crowd faded into the background as he focused on Hitoshi, who was watching him with a calculating gaze. Shouto’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white.

Smart or not, he wasn’t about to back down. He had come this far, and he wasn’t going to let himself falter now. He wanted to be able to tell Izuku he won when he woke up.

The sharp crack of the whip, signaling the start of the final round, barely registered in Shouto’s mind. Instinct took over as he narrowly sidestepped Hitoshi’s opening punch— a strike aimed directly at his throat. A fraction of a second slower, and the match could have ended before it even began.

“Damn, Hitoshi. Straight for the throat?” Shouto let out a strained chuckle, his breath heavy. He straightened, every fiber of his being telling him to stay focused despite the exhaustion sinking into his limbs. His sharp eyes remained fixed on Hitoshi, waiting for the next move.

“I’m not underestimating you, Shouto,” Hitoshi replied with a smirk, his body shifting fluidly as he assumed a stance full of quiet, dangerous intent. His eyes gleamed with a predator’s focus. “That would be a mistake.”

Before Shouto could even respond, Hitoshi moved again—faster this time, closing the gap between them with unsettling ease. His palm shot forward, aiming directly for Shouto’s chest.

Shouto reacted just in time, twisting his body to deflect the blow. He managed to bring his forearm up, redirecting the strike to the side, but the impact still jolted his arm, sending a searing pain through his muscles. He stumbled back, struggling to find his footing.

Hitoshi wasted no time, pressing his advantage with a barrage of quick, precise strikes aimed at Shouto’s ribs and shoulders. Shouto dodged and blocked as best as he could, but each movement was slower than the last—his muscles sluggish, weighed down by the toll of his earlier fights. Every step backward felt heavier, like his body was slowly betraying him.

“Running on fumes, huh?” Hitoshi taunted, his voice calm and measured as he continued to hammer away at Shouto. “You’ve got power, Shouto, but without it, what’s left?”

Shouto’s teeth gritted, but he remained silent. He knew better than to give Hitoshi any answer. One word—one slip—and the fight would be over. His quirk might be exhausted, but Hitoshi’s wasn’t.

Instead, Shouto went for a leg sweep, but Hitoshi dodged it with a fluid jump, spinning mid-air into a drop-kick that collided with Shouto’s chest. The force of the kick knocked the wind out of him, sending him flying backward.

Shouto barely managed to catch himself on his hands, staggering to his feet just in time to avoid another kick aimed at his head. His body screamed in protest with each movement. He was already too far gone, his quirk drained, his stamina low, and Hitoshi wasn’t showing any mercy.

Shouto could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, their anticipation building. He had stopped using his quirk, and everyone could tell. It was down to pure physicality now, and Hitoshi was overwhelming him, one calculated strike at a time.

Each punch, each block, forced Shouto back, inch by inch. As he tried to take another step, his right foot hovered, dangerously close to the edge of the arena. He could feel the weight of his body pulling him toward the boundary.

“Sorry, Shouto. If this was a fair fight, you’d have won,” Hitoshi said casually, his hand flicking lightly to Shouto’s forehead nudging him backwards.

And just like that, Shouto lost his balance. The push was subtle, but enough to tip him over the edge. His eyes narrowed, and for a split second, he tried to do anything to recover, but it was futile. 

“Well played, Hitoshi,” Shouto muttered under his breath as he tumbled out of the ring, the crowd's roar ringing in his ears.

Shouto barely felt the impact when he hit the ground, the grass cushioning his fall far better than he expected. For a few moments, he just lay there, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. His body ached from the relentless series of battles, and he allowed himself the luxury of stillness, listening to Midnight's voice echo through the arena as she announced Hitoshi’s victory.

Before he could fully collect himself, he felt a hand on his back. Turning his head, Shouto saw Hitoshi standing over him, offering a hand to help him up.

“Sorry for that. I really didn’t want to give you any chances,” Hitoshi said, his voice sheepish as he pulled Shouto to his feet.

Shouto could’ve easily cursed or made excuses. He could've said that if his quirk had been functioning properly, the result would’ve been different. But that wasn’t who he was. Hitoshi had won fair and square, and that was the end of it.

“I’ll win next time,” Shouto said simply, dusting off his uniform as they made their way toward the exit. “Enjoy first place for now.”

Hitoshi snorted, grabbing a water bottle from a nearby table. “I doubt I’ll be going far in the Sports Festival again. I’m more interested in going underground. You know? Hopefully, I caught the eye of some underground heroes.”

Shouto raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “Why not intern with your Dad?”

Hitoshi froze mid-sip, the water bottle paused at his lips as his eyes widened in confusion. “Dad? My dad isn’t even—”

“Isn’t Aizawa-sensei your dad?” Shouto interrupted, genuinely bemused by the sudden shift in Hitoshi's demeanor.

“What!?” Hitoshi sputtered, the water spewing out in a dramatic spit-take as he immediately broke into a fit of coughing. “No! Aizawa-sensei is not my dad!” He continued coughing, looking flustered and caught completely off-guard by the assumption.

Shouto blinked in confusion. “I thought—”

Hitoshi waved his hand frantically, trying to wave away the misunderstanding. “No! It’s not like that! I mean, I look up to him, sure, and he’s been training me after class since I told him I wanted to go underground, but that’s not—” He stopped, realizing he was still sputtering.

Shouto tilted his head with a small smile. “It’s okay. I understand. Keeping secrets is important. I won’t tell anyone.”

Hitoshi’s eyes widened, his panic flaring. “Shouto!” he exclaimed, voice rising. “I’m serious! He’s not my dad!”

Shouto, with an expression as calm as ever, simply shrugged. “Yeah, of course he isn’t.”

Hitoshi’s face turned bright red. “HE’S NOT!” he yelled.

“I believe you,” Shouto said, his tone placid and unbothered.

“NO, YOU DON’T!” Hitoshi almost shrieked, still flustered and scrambling to regain his composure.

Shouto gave him a small, barely contained grin, the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes as Hitoshi continued to flail about, utterly flustered.

...- .- -. .. .-.. .-.. .- / .. -.-. .

By the time Izuku woke up, the Sports Festival was long over, and the medals had already been handed out. His body felt sore and stiff, as though he had just been unfrozen from an iceberg. The soft hum of the infirmary filled the room, and he blinked slowly, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the past few days. His exhaustion from the matches had clearly caught up with him, and the aches in his limbs were a stark reminder of everything he'd pushed himself through.

A small pang of regret twisted in his chest. He hadn’t made it to the end, hadn’t been there for the closing ceremony. After all, he’d worked so hard to get this far, even if his journey had been cut short. But as the coolness of the room seeped into his bones and his body protested even the smallest movement, he decided it wasn’t worth lingering on. He had given it his all, and that, in itself, was enough.

He frowned as he took stock of the situation around him. Why are they all here?

There was a soft rustling sound, followed by the distinct voice of his brother. “Shouto?” Izuku slurred, the word barely escaping his lips as his heavy eyelids fluttered open.

“Izuku!” Shouto’s voice came immediately, clear and steady, with a sense of urgency. His warm hand carefully grasped Izuku’s, his presence a comfort. “How are you feeling?”

Izuku let out a soft chuckle, his lips curving into a tired grin despite the aches running through his body. “Remember that time we snuck out in the middle of the night to make a snowman and didn’t bring our coats?” he said, his voice a little slurred. “Like that, but worse.”

Shouto’s face softened as he smiled, his thumb brushing over Izuku’s hand in a soothing motion. “I thought we swore never to talk about that again.”

“You swore to never talk about that again. I never promised anything,” Izuku replied with a cheeky grin. “Besides, it was your idea.”

Shouto raised an eyebrow, playing along with a soft teasing edge in his voice. “Oh, really? That’s not how I remember it.”

Izuku’s grin widened, though his tired eyes betrayed the exhaustion he was fighting to hide. “It was totally your idea, Shouto.”

Shouto chuckled, the moment light and comfortable, before his expression grew serious. “Agree to disagree.” His voice softened as the weight of everything he had been avoiding settled on his shoulders. “But... we have a lot to discuss.”

Izuku blinked slowly, a small frown pulling at his lips as he met Shouto's gaze. There was something in his brother's tone that made the air between them shift, and Izuku couldn’t quite place it. “Are you finally going to tell me what you're hiding?”

The words came out more bitterly than he intended. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the frustration of the last two weeks finally bubbled to the surface. He had tried to reach out, tried to understand why Shouto had been shutting him out, and it had hurt. There was a wall Shouto had put up, and no matter how many times Izuku tried to break it down, his brother remained distant. He was done with it.

Shouto’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. He hesitated, then lowered his gaze, as if weighing something in his mind. The silence between them stretched out, thick and heavy.

“Yes, no more secrets,” Shouto said quietly, his voice carrying a quiet resolve that seemed to settle into the air between them.

Izuku nodded slowly, his heart racing as he focused on his brother. “I'm listening. What happened, Shouto?”

Shouto took a deep breath, his expression firm but his eyes carrying a weight Izuku could feel. “After Dad... hit you…” Shouto's voice faltered slightly, as if just saying the words brought a fresh wave of pain. “I knew I couldn’t just ignore it anymore.” His hands clenched at his sides, and his gaze hardened. “He did it once. He’ll do it again. I couldn’t let it go on.”

Izuku felt the words twist in his chest, an instinctual denial itching to form on his tongue. He wanted to argue, to convince Shouto that he was wrong. But the words got caught in his throat. Shouto was right. Even just today, Endeavor had raised his hand to him when Izuku had spoken out of turn, if Denki hadn’t appeared when he did… His chest tightened at the memory, and after a long, heavy pause, he sighed deeply and nodded slightly.

Shouto seemed to breathe a little easier at his brother’s silence, but the gravity of his next words still hung in the air. “But you didn’t want me to tell anyone,” Shouto continued, his gaze darkening as he avoided Izuku’s eyes for a moment. When he met them again, his voice lowered, almost pained. “I know we tried before and it didn’t work... but I couldn’t stand by anymore. So…” He paused, his breath shaky, his eyes flicking briefly to the corner of the room where Aizawa-Sensei and Principal Nedzu were sitting as silent witnesses. “...I went to Aizawa-Sensei.”

Izuku froze. His stomach dropped. “You what?” he asked, barely able to keep his voice steady, a mix of disbelief and a deep, aching hurt crawling through his chest.

Shouto’s face was set in a grim mask, but the faintest trace of guilt lingered in his eyes. “I talked to Aizawa-Sensei. Told him everything.”

“Every—” Izuku started, but the words trailed off as his mind raced to process what Shouto was saying. His heart was thundering in his chest, and a deep, unsettled feeling spread through him. “You told him everything?” His voice was soft, but the pain and disbelief were clear in it.

“ Everything , Izuku,” Shouto said sharply, his voice almost cutting through the space between them. “He knows everything.” He let out a soft exhale, his voice quieter now, tinged with regret. “I know it’s risky. But I had to try.”

Izuku sat in stunned silence. The room felt suffocating, the weight of Shouto’s words settling heavily in the air. His mind spun, trying to comprehend the full magnitude of what his brother had done. There was betrayal there, yes, but also something else—something like relief, mixed with an underlying sense of fear. Fear for what it meant, what this might cost them.

“Shouto, you—” Izuku started, his voice trembling with the overwhelming flood of emotions, but Shouto cut him off before he could continue.

“I know why we never tried again after that time,” Shouto said, his voice steady but his gaze intense. “I know what Dad would do if he found out.” His jaw clenched as if he were steeling himself against a storm. “But I couldn’t let him keep doing this. Aizawa-Sensei is going to help. We made a plan… But we couldn’t risk tipping Dad. So, I…”

“So you couldn’t tell me, but you knew you couldn’t lie to me either. So you chose to keep your distance…” Izuku said with a sigh. 

He could understand the reason for secrecy. He wouldn’t have told Endeavor, but Aizawa-Sensei had no way to be sure.

He was sure this wasn’t what Aizawa-Sensei meant when he told Shouto to keep it a secret from him. If Shouto had simply told him that he had a secret that he couldn’t tell him yet, Izuku would have understood and wouldn’t have pried.

Taking the most complicated route was just like Shouto, though. His brother might be book smart, but his people skills were horrible.

“What is the plan, Shouto?” Izuku asked softly.

“He’ll get you away from that house, Izuku.” Shouto explained, and Izuku felt his blood run cold.

His eyes widened, disbelief turning to anger. “Me!? What about you, Shouto!? You’re the one he’s always abusing with that ‘training’ of his!” His voice rose, and he had to fight to keep his emotions from completely overtaking him.

“I’ll be fine,” Shouto replied, his voice gentle, but firm. “As long as you're safe, everything will work out.”

“God damn it, Shouto!” Izuku forced himself to sit up, the pain in his body forgotten for a moment as he grabbed Shouto’s shoulders, his fingers digging into him with frustration. “You’re not fine! You hate him so much that you spent years suppressing half your power just to spite him! Stop worrying about me and worry about yourself for once in your life!”

Shouto’s expression hardened, and his voice became a low, controlled hiss. “You have no right to criticize me, Izuku. You’re the same.”

“I'm not the one getting beaten every other night, Shouto!” Izuku's voice cracked, the words slipping out with the weight of years of frustration. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at his brother, the anger and hurt spilling over. “Yes, it hurts every time Dad calls me a failure. Yes, I wanted him to acknowledge me, just once. Yes, it felt like my heart was breaking when he hit me that night! But you—you’re the one he’s hurting the most! And no matter how hard I try to help you, you always push me away. You’ve been shutting me out for so long, and now—now you want to fix everything without even considering what I want! Aren’t we supposed to be a team, Shouto?”

Shouto’s breath hitched, his body going rigid as each word from Izuku felt like it pierced through him. The intensity of Izuku's pain was almost too much to bear, and he could feel his chest tightening, suffocating under the weight of his brother's frustration. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come, leaving him silent, as the full weight of what Izuku had just said crashed over him. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkened with the guilt of knowing he was the one pushing Izuku away.

“Izuku…” Shouto finally managed, his voice soft, strained, as if saying his brother's name was too painful. But before he could go on, Izuku wasn’t done.

“Shouto, you’re my whole world,” Izuku continued, his voice breaking, raw and desperate. “I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore. I hate hiding how close we are from Dad. I just want to be your brother again, the way we used to be. I don’t care about anything else. Please, don’t make me leave. I can’t do this… I can’t lose you.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, thick with the weight of emotions neither of them had fully expressed before. Izuku could feel his heart pounding, each beat echoing in his chest like a reminder of everything he was afraid of losing. And then, without warning, Shouto moved.

Izuku felt his brother’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close in a tight embrace. The warmth of Shouto’s touch, so unexpected and so desperately needed, sent a wave of relief through him. Neither of them spoke. Shouto’s body was tense at first, but slowly he relaxed, breathing deeply as if allowing himself to finally feel what he’d been holding back for so long. Izuku clung to him, shaking slightly, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his brother’s breath. It felt like everything was finally starting to make sense again.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Shouto murmured into his hair, his voice thick with emotion. The words were soft, barely a whisper, but they were everything Izuku needed to hear.

The moment seemed to stretch on forever, the two of them standing there in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. Then, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through the quiet. They both turned to find Aizawa-Sensei standing there, an awkward expression on his face, his usual stoic demeanor not quite hiding the mild discomfort of the situation. Principal Nedzu was nearby, sipping his tea and watching them like this was the best soap opera in the world.

“You two are complete hypocrites,” Aizawa-Sensei said dryly, his voice filled with exasperation. “You can’t stand seeing each other hurt, yet you have not a shred of self-preservation. So you keep hurting yourselves, and each other by extension.”

Izuku pulled away slightly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, embarrassed but oddly grateful for Aizawa-Sensei’s bluntness. He couldn’t deny it. Shouto chuckled weakly, his eyes softening as the tension in the room lifted a little. The heaviness was still there, but it felt more bearable now.

“I guess we are,” Izuku said with a small laugh, his voice shaky but genuine. “I’ll try to take better care of myself, if you promise to do the same, Shouto.”

Shouto smiled faintly, a spark of warmth returning to his eyes. “Deal.”

“Now that we’re on the same page, how about I explain what’s going to happen next?” Principal Nedzu asked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Izuku shot Shouto a nervous glance before turning back to the principal and nodding.

“First of all,” Aizawa-Sensei started, his voice low but firm, “Izuku, you’re not staying under that roof any longer. That’s non-negotiable.” Izuku opened his mouth to protest, but Aizawa-Sensei continued without missing a beat. “The same goes for you, Shouto. You’re not staying there a second longer.”

Izuku blinked at the sudden intensity of the conversation. “I know Dad won’t fight for me, but how are you taking Shouto?”

Principal Nedzu gave him a grin, one that sent a chill down Izuku's spine, like a predator eyeing its prey.

“Why, leave that to me,” Nedzu said calmly, taking another sip of his tea. Izuku briefly wondered if that cup was bottomless.

Aizawa-Sensei sighed, clearly not amused by Nedzu's theatrics. “Since the USJ incident, UA has been working on something to keep students safe. Starting next semester, all students will be moving into dormitories. However, the dorms aren’t ready yet, so until then, I’ll be fostering both of you.”

Izuku was taken aback. “Can you do that?” Shouto asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice laced with skepticism.

“Well, technically, the moment we were enrolled at UA, our homeroom teacher gained the same authority over us as a legal guardian,” Izuku answered, then blinked when he realized Shouto was staring at him with confusion. “What? Just because Dad didn’t bother to read the contract he signed doesn’t mean I didn’t.”

Shouto stared at him for a few seconds, bewildered, before shaking his head and turning back to Aizawa-Sensei.

“As Izuku pointed out, I am technically one of your legal guardians,” Aizawa-Sensei continued, voice matter-of-fact. “Besides, I have an emergency fostering license. So, yes, I can do that.” Izuku nodded, a bit surprised at how prepared they were for this. “It’s all a matter of getting Endeavor to sign the permanent custody papers. We can do this without having to worry about a long legal battle,” Aizawa-Sensei added.

Izuku hesitated, his brow furrowed. “And how are you planning on convincing him to sign Shouto’s custody?”

Principal Nedzu responded almost too cheerfully, “With blackmail, of course!”

Izuku paused, staring at the principal, trying to gauge if he was being serious or if this was some kind of joke. But looking at Nedzu’s composed face, Izuku couldn’t tell. The principal was as inscrutable as always.

“The point is,” Aizawa-Sensei interjected, “you’re not going back to that house. The only time you’ll go there is to collect your things. After that, we’re out.”

“What about Fuyumi?” Shouto asked, his voice filled with concern for their sister.

“We already talked to her as well,” Nedzu replied, his smile unwavering. “She’ll be moving out too. Since she’s legally an adult, there’s nothing Endeavor can do to stop her.”

Izuku sat in stunned silence, processing the flood of information. “So... are we free? He can’t take us back?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Not without airing all his dirty laundry and completely ruining his image,” Principal Nedzu said, his tone matter-of-fact.

That last part hit Izuku like a ton of bricks. Endeavor would never allow something like that. His pride, his image—it was everything to him. There was no way he would risk everything just to reclaim them.

Izuku glanced at Shouto, who looked just as incredulous. “This sounds…” Izuku began, trailing off in disbelief.

“Too easy,” Shouto finished, his voice laced with doubt.

Could it really be so simple? They’d always thought escaping Endeavor’s grasp was impossible, and yet here were Aizawa-Sensei and Principal Nedzu, telling them the exact opposite. 

“You two just have to worry about classes and being teenagers,” Aizawa-Sensei said softly, his voice carrying a rare warmth that surprised both of them. “You can leave all the rest to us. We won’t fail you.”

Izuku felt a weight lift off his shoulders, as if a burden he hadn’t realized he was carrying had been eased just a little. The room, filled with the weight of the last few days, seemed to breathe with a little more space now. For the first time, it felt like they weren’t fighting alone.

Shouto glanced at Izuku, and for a moment, their eyes locked, both of them caught between disbelief and tentative hope. There was still a long road ahead of them, but for the first time in ages, it felt like they weren’t alone in the battle.

Chapter Text

The walk up to the Todoroki household was suffocating.

That place — because calling it a “home” felt like a cruel joke — loomed before Izuku and Shouto like a silent, unyielding beast. Its cold, sterile walls seemed to stare down at them, casting long shadows over the driveway. The air felt heavier the closer they got, thick with the ghosts of every unspoken word and every wound too deep to show.

Shouto didn't say a word, but Izuku felt everything through the way his brother's hand tightened around his — cold, firm, and just a little too desperate. It was the only crack in his otherwise expressionless face. Izuku didn't let go.

The car ride had been silent. Maybe Aizawa-Sensei didn’t know what to say, or maybe he knew there was nothing he could say to make this easier. Either way, the quiet had wrapped around them like a shroud, and none of them had tried to break it.

Finally, as they pulled into the driveway, it was Aizawa who spoke first.

“Endeavor won’t be home,” he said, his voice steady but softer than usual. “Nedzu pulled a few strings — there’s a case in Hosu. He left about two hours ago.”

Izuku nodded, the faintest thread of relief unspooling in his chest.

Shouto, still staring at the house, asked, “What about Fuyumi?”

Aizawa leaned against the car, crossing his arms, his dark eyes never leaving the front door. “She’s already packed and staying at a hotel tonight. She didn’t want to risk running into him either.”

Izuku exhaled, only now realizing he'd been holding his breath. “Smart,” he muttered. “I doubt he even noticed she left.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

Then, Shouto reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. His fingers trembled — just for a moment — before steadying. “Guess it’s time to pack.”

The click of the key sliding into the lock echoed louder than it should have.

He pushed the door open, stepping inside first, with Izuku close behind. Aizawa followed, his posture just a bit too rigid — like he was expecting a fight. His gaze swept the entryway, his sharp eyes searching the corners of the house for any sign of danger, despite the assurance that Endeavor was gone.

Izuku didn’t know why, but it made him feel safer. To know that his teacher was willing to fight to protect them. It was a new feeling for him.

The house smelled the same as it always did — cold, sterile, and empty. No warmth. No life.

Shouto reached for the light switch.

The second the lights flicked on, Izuku braced himself.

For yelling. For footsteps thundering down the hall. For the crushing weight of Endeavor's presence.

But there was only silence.

After a few seconds of silence, Izuku exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping as the tension seemed to leave his body all at once. He stood a little taller, the weight in his chest easing as a quiet sense of relief washed over him. 

“Looks like he's really not here,” he muttered, his voice softer than usual, almost as if testing the stillness around them.

“Go pack,” Aizawa-sensei instructed, his tone as steady as ever. “Bring anything you think you'll need.”

Shouto gave a brief nod before heading down the hallway, his footsteps echoing faintly as he disappeared toward his room. Izuku lingered for just a moment longer, taking in the stillness of the house. He shook his head slightly, a quiet sigh escaping him, and turned toward his own room.

Shouto’s room was on the north side of the house, isolated from the other siblings' rooms on the opposite end. Just another way Endeavor had found to keep Shouto isolated from the rest of the family.

It was just another thing Izuku had gotten used to over time. Endeavor didn’t like Shouto mixing with the “failures,” so, Shouto had been placed in the furthest corner of the house, away from the others. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Izuku and Shouto from finding ways to spend time together. But even so, it was hard to ignore the anger that simmered whenever Izuku allowed himself to think about it.

Shaking his head, Izuku finally entered his own room. The familiar space was a chaotic mix of hero merchandise, scattered around as if trying to fill the emptiness of the walls. Posters of various heroes adorned the walls, and shelves were crowded with action figures and memorabilia, most of it All Might-themed. Not a single piece of Endeavor merchandise was to be found.

If Izuku was being honest, he didn’t like All Might that much. It wasn’t that he hated the man. It wasn’t All Might’s fault that his father was obsessed with being the number one hero. But Izuku couldn't shake the resentment, knowing that All Might was an unwitting part of the broken home he’d grown up in.

But still, Izuku’s room was still filled with All Might merch — and not by accident. Every piece had been collected over the years was bought with Endeavor's own credit card. Izuku didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. If anything, it was a constant reminder of how little Endeavor paid attention to his own family. If the man had cared enough to look, he would have noticed his money going toward the very thing he hated. But it had been years, and Endeavor was none the wiser. So, screw him AND his opinions.

Izuku grabbed his bag and began packing, the motion almost mechanical. There was no need to take any of the All Might merchandise. The thought of leaving it all here, for Endeavor to find someday, almost made him smile. It was a small, petty victory, something that would annoy his father long after Izuku was gone. A shame he wouldn’t be around to see it.

As he stuffed his bag with clothes, toiletries, and a few small personal items, Izuku realized something. He had little attachment to this place. It was just walls, a roof, and the constant, oppressive presence of a man who had always seen him as nothing but a failure. 

There were only two things that Izuku couldn’t see himself leaving behind.

The first were his notebooks. Thirteen volumes, filled with quirk analyses that he had been writing since he was four. Pages upon pages of observations, theories, and notes. Some of the entries were written with Shouto, and the very first was an analysis of Shouto’s own quirk. It had been before Endeavor’s twisted influence had made Shouto resent half of his own power. Before everything changed.

The second item was an old, worn blanket. A gift from Shouto, years ago, when Izuku’s quirk had just evolved and he started to struggle more with the cold. It was still, to this day, the warmest blanket he owned, and his favorite. It was the kind of thing that never failed to make him feel safe.

He carefully packed the notebooks, one by one, wrapping them gently so they wouldn’t be damaged. The blanket he folded with the same care, its fabric soft but frayed from years of use. Then, after a final check, he made sure he had everything else he needed: his clothes, school supplies, his uniform, and the other basics. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else was worth holding onto.

He was ready to leave.

With a deep breath, Izuku zipped up his bag, his fingers lingering for just a moment on the worn fabric of the blanket as he did. As he made his way to the door, he spared a final glance at the bedroom that had been his for so many years. But he still felt nothing. 

He shook his head, a flicker of frustration crossing his mind, and closed the door with a little more force than necessary. The sharp click of the lock behind him seemed louder than it should have, but he pushed it out of his mind. There was nothing left for him here. Nothing worth holding onto.

Turning away, he made his way down the hallway, each step heavier than the last, but resolute.

At the end of the hall, Aizawa-sensei was still waiting. He hadn't moved, hadn’t seemed to do anything but stand guard. Shouto was there too, already packed, his own bag holding only the basics. Like Izuku, Shouto had little attachment to this place. In fact, Shouto probably had even less. After all, the only experience Shouto had in this house were Endeavor’s abuse.

The twins looked at each for a few seconds, a thousand words behind their gazes, but not a single one left their lips. They simply nodded at each other then looked at their teacher.

“We are ready,” they said in unison.

And with that, there was nothing left to keep them here.

-.-- . .-.. .-.. --- .-- -....- -... .-.. .- -.-. -.- --..-- / -.-- . .-.. .-.. --- .-- -....- -... .-.. .- -.-. -.- --..-- / -.-- . .-.. .-.. --- .-- -....- -... .-.. .- -.-. -.- --..-- / -.-- . .-.. .-.. --- .-- -....- -... .-.. .- -.-. -.- .-.-.- .-.-.- .-.-.- / --- .... --..-- / -... .-.. .- -.-. -.- / .- -. -.. / -.-- . .-.. .-.. --- .-- .-.-.- / -.-- . .- .... --..-- / .-.. . - ... / ... .... .- -.- . / .. - / ..- .--. / .- / .-.. .. - - .-.. . .-.-.-

Shouta didn’t say a word as he guided the twins back to the car, the quiet weight of the moment pressing down on him. He felt a pang in his chest at the sight of how little they were bringing with them. It wasn’t like they couldn’t have taken more — Endeavor was rich, and the house was enormous. From the outside, anyone would assume his children were spoiled, surrounded by wealth and luxury, never wanting for anything. But Shouta had seen kids leaving foster homes with more belongings to their name than these two had.

He knew they had more they could have brought if they wanted to. But it was clear they had no attachment to anything in this place. The only thing they were tied to was each other.

His jaw tightened. He really hoped Nedzu had succeeded in getting Endeavor to sign away custody of the twins, or else Shouta might just end up in a fistfight with the number two hero over their future. And part of him figured that, hell, he might do it anyway. 

Once the boys had loaded their bags into the trunk, they climbed into the backseat. They sat close together, the space between them almost nonexistent. Shouta didn’t comment on the way they clutched each other’s hands, fingers intertwined tightly. He didn’t need to say anything. The way they glanced at each other every few seconds, like they were silently checking in, making sure the other was still there, spoke volumes.

There was a clear co-dependency between them. It wasn’t surprising given the circumstances, but it was something that would need to be addressed. Therapy. Lots of it. But that could wait. For now, what mattered was that they were together, safe, and finally leaving the nightmare that had been their home.

Shouta pulled out of the driveway, the enormous house shrinking in the rearview mirror. He didn’t look back. And for the first time in a long time, he felt something he hadn’t in a while: a glimmer of hope. The twins were leaving it all behind. They were broken, yes, but they were free. Finally free.

He glanced in the rearview mirror again and thought of something else. He hoped they liked cats.

-..-. -..-. ..-. .-. . -. -.-. .... / .- -.-. -.-. . -. - -..-. -..-. / .-.. .- - . .-.

Hizashi could admit — just to himself — that he was a little nervous. It wasn’t the first time he and his husband had taken in kids from rough situations. Shouta had a habit of bringing home strays, after all — not just the four-legged kind, but the two-legged ones too.

Most of the time, it was kids Shouta found during his patrols — lost, abandoned, caught in the aftermath of villain attacks, or even runaways. Society was cruel, and more often than not, it was the young ones who bore knew that the most. Hizashi knew just how deeply Shouta felt that, considering how bad his own childhood was.

So, Hizashi never argued whenever Shouta would suddenly walk through the door with some scared, wide-eyed kid in tow, mumbling something about “temporary placement.” Hizashi always kept the guest bedroom prepared, the sheets clean and soft, a small stack of toys tucked away in the closet just in case. There was even a pile of fostering forms ready to be filled, a system they both knew far too well by now.

But this time felt different.

This wasn’t a random child Shouta had found on patrol. This wasn’t a temporary solution or a quick intervention until social services could step in. These were Shouto and Izuku — Shouta’s students, and Endeavor’s sons.

Hizashi wasn't aware of the details of the case, but he had gathered enough to know it was bad. Really bad. It made his blood boil. A well-known fact among the heroes was that Present Mic wasn't allowed to work on cases related to child abuse. Not after the... incident years ago, a bit after Hizashi graduated and started his hero career.

He still didn't regret what he did that day. That child abuser deserved everything that happened to him, but since then, police and heroes made sure to keep Hizashi away from child abusers unless there was no other choice.

But he was digressing. The point was, Shouta and Hizashi were used to fostering children, but this was the first time the kids they'd be taking care of were so close. Just from the little Hizashi heard, he knew the twins' case was delicate, and they'd need lots of help going forward.

So, he fussed.

He triple-checked the guest room, making sure there were extra blankets — Izuku was very sensitive to the cold — and enough space for both of them to be comfortable. He rearranged the furniture, pushing the two twin beds together so the boys could sleep near each other if they wanted to. Maybe they would prefer bunk beds? That was something to consider for later.

He added a few more neutral decorations to the room, then hesitated before placing a couple of cat plushies on each bed. It was a little childish, but Hizashi had a feeling the boys might find it a small comfort. Something soft, something safe.

The kitchen was stocked with easy meals. He didn’t know what the boys liked, but he felt like curry was a safe choice until he got to learn more about the boys. As soon as he learned what it was, he would cook them their favorite meals.

Hizashi wanted — no, needed — the twins to feel safe here. To feel like this house, even if it wasn’t home yet, wasn’t just another cold place they would stay in while being neglected.

He might have gone a little overboard on the preparations, but he couldn’t help it. Stress baking had become something of a coping mechanism, and today it meant a few dozen cookies. But hey, who didn’t like cookies? They weren’t allergic to chocolate chips right? Wait, did they have any allergies!?

Before Hizashi could stress more about it, he heard the familiar sound of Shouta’s car pulling into the driveway. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly wiped his hands on a dish towel, glancing around the kitchen to make sure everything was in order. The cookies were cooling on the counter, the guest room was ready, and the smell of curry wafted through the house, warm and inviting.

He looked around for the cats, but found no one. They were probably hiding like aways. They never liked Hizashi much. Hizashi could admit he was maybe a little too loud for the felines, but still, quite rude of them to ignore him like that.

He was about to go looking for them when he heard the front door unlocking. His breath caught. It was time.

He turned towards the door, his nerves coming back in full force, and just as it creaked open, he heard Shouta’s voice.

“We’re here.”

Hizashi quickly schooled his features into something calm. He was a pro hero, after all. Contrary to popular belief, he was perfectly capable of controlling himself when the situation required it. So, he took a deep breath, straightened his back, and made his way toward the hallway to greet his new kids. 

When he stepped into the entryway, he immediately saw them. Izuku was taking off his shoes, and Shouto seemed to be keeping guard, standing close by with a sharpness in his posture. When Izuku finished, Shouto followed suit, removing his own shoes with careful precision.

Hizashi’s chest tightened at the sight. He ignored the sharp pang in his heart, but it was hard to miss the instinctive, almost practiced vigilance in their movements. This wasn’t the kind of awareness a child should have. Certainly not inside their own home. 

A quick glance at his husband was enough to see that Shouta was thinking the same.

“Hey, Listeners.” Hizashi started greeting them once they finished. “I am-”

“Mic-Sensei?” Izuku blurted as his eyes landed on Hizashi.

“Oh, that’s right, Little Listener,” Hizashi said with a wink, though he had to fight back his own surprise. “What gave it away?”

Between the leather, his “cockatoo hairdo,” and his over-the-top persona, Hizashi was rarely recognized outside of his hero outfit.

“I thought his hair was naturally like that,” Shouto muttered, though not quite quietly enough. Hizashi heard it loud and clear.

“Shouto,” Izuku groaned, nudging his brother. “I told you it’s impossible! That’s not how gravity works.”

“Everything’s possible, Izuku. Quirks are weird.” Shouto shrugged, his voice a little too matter-of-fact.

“Well, we know Present Mic’s quirk, and it’s not about gravity-defying hair,” Izuku said, sounding like he was trying to settle the debate.

“Yeah, but what about—” Shouto began, but was quickly interrupted by Shouta clearing his throat.

Both twins snapped their heads toward him at the same time, and Izuku’s face turned bright red. Shouto tilted his head, confused but not apologetic.

“Sorry,” Izuku mumbled, quickly turning back to Hizashi. “Er, your mustache... it’s still the same, and then you called us ‘Listeners.’ There's not many people who talk like that.”

“Well, ain’t you an observant Little Listener,” Hizashi replied, chuckling as he watched Izuku blush at the praise. "Well, come in. Set the bags down, you can unpack later. You two must be starving after the long day."

Like magic, Hizashi heard two growls in unison. Both boys looked embarrassed by the sound.

Without a word, they moved toward the living room and dropped their bags there. Hizashi was about to go back to the kitchen to finish dinner when he heard a soft gasp.

Turning around, Hizashi caught sight of Izuku’s eyes widening as he stared at the small cat who had wandered into the living room, curious about the noise.

“Cat…” Izuku whispered, his voice soft and full of awe, like a little child encountering an animal for the very first time.

The cat, a large fluffy Maine Coon with black and white fur, blinked slowly and let out a soft meow, almost as if greeting them.

“Oh, that’s Michael,” Hizashi said with a gentle smile, watching the boys’ reactions. “He’s a Maine Coon. He’s a bit of a loner, but he’s very sweet once he warms up to you.”

Just then, another meow echoed through the room, drawing their attention to another cat — a gray Pixie Bob, staring at the newcomers with suspicion.

“That’s Grumpy,” Shouta said dryly, his voice a mix of fondness and humor. “She hates everyone.”

Hizashi couldn’t help but grin. “Two chances to guess who named each one,” he added, nudging Shouta with an elbow.

Izuku giggled nervously, his gaze never leaving the cats. To everyone’s surprise, it was Grumpy who made the first move. With a slow, cautious stride, she padded closer to Izuku, eyeing him carefully, her wariness softened just slightly by curiosity.

Izuku stayed still, a little hesitant, but his eyes softened as he slowly extended his hand, palm up. Grumpy sniffed it once, twice, before unexpectedly nuzzling his fingers. But then, in a swift motion, she jumped back, her fur bristling as she hissed at him before scampering off.

“Wait! Come back, kitty!” Izuku called, raising a hand, but the cat was already gone, not sparing him a second glance. He looked at his hand, pouting deeply. “This always happens.”

“Your hands are cold, Izu,” Shouto said, giving his brother a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Izuku turned to him, his pout deepening as he saw Michael nuzzling Shouto's left side, completely ignoring him now. “Shut up,” he mumbled, crossing his arms in a huff, though his eyes still lingered on the cats with quiet longing.

Hizashi bit back a laugh at the sight of Izuku’s pouty expression. It would be a little mean to tease him about it, especially when Hizashi could relate to cats not liking him. Shouta, of course, didn’t seem to share that concern. He shot Hizashi a knowing smile, the kind that said he was all too aware of the thoughts running through his husband's mind.

“Looks like you have competition,” Shouta teased, his voice light and amused.

Hizashi rolled his eyes, though a playful grin tugged at his lips. "Oh, shush, Shou," he muttered, giving him a gentle shove. He turned back to Izuku then, clapping a hand on the boy’s back in an attempt to reassure him. "It’s fine, Little Listener. I understand you."

Despite the obvious disappointment at being rejected by the fluffy cat, Izuku bounced back quickly. It was almost like he'd had to deal with this before, and it wasn’t a new wound. His cold skin clearly made him an unlikely candidate for feline affection.

“I'm not giving up,” Hizashi heard him mutter to himself, determination setting in his voice.

Hizashi chuckled softly at the boy before turning back to his original plan. He headed to the kitchen to finish setting up dinner. As he added the final touches to the curry, Shouta started setting the table. The faint sound of the twins bickering softly in the living room filled the air, a gentle reminder of the life that was starting to settle into the house. Hizashi couldn’t help but smile as his previous worries began to melt away. Maybe things would be a little less complicated than he thought.

Chapter Text

Shouto stood at the entrance of the mental facility, the quiet hum of the automatic doors echoing in his ears each time they slid open and shut for someone else. The sterile air drifted toward him, cool and clinical, but it did nothing to settle the unrest twisting inside his chest. His feet stayed planted on the threshold, like they were waiting for permission he didn’t need.

He wasn’t having second thoughts. He really wasn’t. He wanted to be here.

That didn’t make it any easier.

He swallowed, his throat dry despite the crisp air. This visit was long overdue, and he knew it. He’d waited long enough. But still, he found himself wishing Izuku were beside him.

They didn’t fight often. Even now, he wouldn’t call what happened a fight. It had been more like a a small disagreement between the two of them. An old one.

Shouto had told Izuku he wanted to visit their mother. Izuku didn’t want to come.

It wasn’t a cruel no. It wasn’t even an angry one. Just… quiet. Resigned. The kind of “no” that carried too many unsaid things.

And Shouto respected it. He really did. But that didn’t mean he understood it.

To him, their mother had always been more victim than villain. Yes, what she did to him was hard to justify. But Shouto knew who had truly broken her. Knew what years of emotional torment from Endeavor had done to her mind, her heart.

He didn’t blame her. But Izuku did. Or… maybe he didn’t. Maybe he just couldn’t let it go . Not yet.

Shouto didn’t need him to forgive her. He just wished he could talk about it.

Izuku used to be the closest to their Mom. She was the one who taught him how to ice skate when he was five. He still talked about skating like it was pure magic, something no other hobby could ever touch. Their mother used to bring him hot cocoa afterward and rub his hands until they were warm again. He’d cling to her side like her shadow.

But since the day she hurt Shouto Izuku never brought her name first. And whenever her name did come up, he was always cold and distant.

Shouto never pressed. Never demanded Izuku come around or see things his way. Because the truth was, he did try to see it from Izuku’s side. He imagined what it would be like if the roles were reversed. If it had been Izuku on the receiving end of her breakdown instead of him.

And honestly? He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive her either.

Aizawa-Sensei had called them hypocrites. Shouto hadn’t disagreed then. He didn’t disagree now.

He’d learned to forgive almost anything done to himself. But if someone hurt Izuku? He wasn’t nearly as nice.

Izuku was the same. Probably worse.

That’s why this visit felt heavier. Why the absence of his brother by his side hit a little harder than he wanted to admit. Because even if Izuku said he wasn’t coming, Shouto knew he wanted to. That torn look in his eyes was impossible to forget.

He didn’t come because he was afraid.

Afraid that if he saw her—if she looked at him with the same warmth she used to—and he still couldn’t forgive her, it would break her. Because as much as Izuku resented her, he still loved her so much. He would never want to hurt her.

Shouto knew that. He agreed, even. It was too soon for his brother.

But still… he hoped that someday, maybe not soon but eventually, Izuku would be able to let go of that. Now that Endeavor was finally out of their lives, maybe they could all start to heal.

Izuku wasn’t ready to face her. Not yet. The wound she left wasn’t like Shouto’s scar, but it was just as real.

But Shouto was ready. He needed this. To look their mother in the eye, to speak his truth, and to find whatever closure he could. Even if what he found today was that she hated him, this was his way of stepping out of Endeavor’s shadow and towards becoming the hero he wanted to be. Not because he wanted to spite his father. Not anymore. He didn’t need Endeavor.

And that was why Izuku didn’t try to convince him not to come. Just like Shouto hadn’t tried to convince Izuku to come.

They didn’t need to explain it to each other. They never really did.

That unspoken understanding between them ran deeper than words. They understood each other better than anyone else, maybe even better than they understood themselves. They had different scars, but they shared the same pain.

And in moments like this, that was enough.

But Shouto had already stalled long enough.

He took a deep breath and forced his legs to move. Every step felt heavier than the last, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when this moment had been waiting for years.

By the time he reached the door, he wasn’t sure how he’d even gotten there. The hallway behind him was a blur, like he’d sleepwalked his way through it. He stood still, staring at the door like it was some final boss. His hand hovered just above the wood, fingers curled into a fist. One second. Two. Three—

He knocked before he could lose his nerve.

A pause. Then a voice, soft and familiar, but distant. Fragile. "Come in."

Shouto opened the door slowly. The room was quiet, the faint scent of antiseptic and herbal tea lingering in the air. His mother was seated on her bed, her back to the door, gazing out the window. The late afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting long, golden shadows across the floor.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone this late,” she said, her voice light and calm as she turned around. “The nurses just left. How can I hel—”

She stopped mid-sentence.

Her eyes met his, and everything else seemed to fall away.

“Shouto?” she breathed, her voice cracking on the name like it was too precious to speak aloud. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes shimmered with tears. “Is that… really you?”

Shouto felt something uncoil in his chest at the hopeful sound of her voice. The tension he’d carried like a second skin began to slip away, piece by piece. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at her.

She looked back. “You've grown up so much.”

-.-- --- ..- / -.-. .- -. / .-.. .. ..-. - / -.-- --- ..- .-. / .... . .- -.. / ..- .--. / - --- / - .... . / ... -.- -.--

- .- -.- . / .- / -.. . . .--. . .-. / -... .-. . .- - .... / .- -. -.. / --. .. ...- . / .. - / - .. -- .

-.-- --- ..- / -.-. .- -. / .-- .- .-.. -.- / - .... . / .--. .- - .... / .- -- --- -. --. / - .... . / .-.. .. -. . …

.-- .. - .... / -.-- --- ..- .-. / ... .... .- - - . .-. . -.. / ..-. .-. .- -- . / --- ..-. / -- .. -. -..

Izuku sat curled up on the couch in Aizawa-sensei’s living room, knees drawn tightly to his chest and a thick blanket draped around his shoulders like armor. His phone rested in his hands, screen long gone dark, but he kept staring at it anyway—waiting for a message, a notification, something . He didn’t even know what. Maybe a text from Shouto. Maybe a sign from the universe.

He sighed, tucking his chin against his knees.

He wasn’t sure if he regretted not going to the hospital. Not really. He knew he wasn’t ready. Seeing their mother now, after everything—after what she’d done to Shouto—it would’ve just reopened wounds neither of them were ready to talk about. If he’d gone, he would’ve lashed out. At her. At himself. At Shouto. And that wouldn’t have helped anyone.

But still. He felt like garbage for letting Shouto go alone.

A sudden ding broke the silence, and Izuku blinked as his phone screen lit up with a message from the group chat Hitoshi had started after the Sports Festival. He tapped it open with a small, grateful breath.

Pichu: so im home. alone. bored outta my damn mind

Izuku snorted. Denki’s chaotic energy was as reliable as ever. He’d been trying to get Hitoshi to at least upgrade his name to "Pikachu" since the chat was first set. Apparently, he didn’t notice that his reaction to the name was the whole reason why Hitoshi chose it in the first place.

Espurr: Yeah. I got that from the 47 other messages I was ignoring

Pichu: rude.
Pichu: anyway, trying to gather the squad.
Pichu: there’s an arcade near the train station. thoughts?

Izuku hesitated, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He didn’t really feel like going out. But at the same time, he didn’t want to stay here feeling miserable all day. He knew for sure Shouto wouldn’t be happy to find out this is what Izuku did all day.

Going out to play some arcade games with his friends and pretending to be normal for a few hours? That sounded very tempting.

Darumaka: I’m in
Darumaka: Shouto’s out tho. He’s visiting our mom

Izuku smiled faintly. Of course Hitoshi would use his chosen Pokémon alias to subtly drop heavy family drama like it was nothing. He appreciated that Hitoshi never pushed him to talk, but always left the door open.

Denki, meanwhile, was still mostly in the dark—he knew the basics, like “Endeavor is the human equivalent of a dumpster fire,” but the rest was a lot messier. Izuku wanted to tell him more, but the timing never seemed right.

Friendship was surprisingly hard, sometimes.

Izuku focused on his chat name for a moment, eyes narrowing when he noticed Shouto’s had swapped them again. Oh, that won’t do.

He quickly swapped it back to what it was supposed to be.

Izuku grinned, wicked and childish.

Vulpix: The balance has been restored

The war raged on. Both Izuku and Shouto had called dibs on “Vulpix” the second the chat started—because of course they did. It suited Shouto perfectly, but Izuku had called dibs first, and neither of them had let it go.

Was he being petty? Absolutely.

Did it make him feel a little better right now? Also absolutely.

He missed Shouto. And he was still a little mad about the whole “ghosting him for two weeks” thing. Besides, they had agreed that whoever managed to keep the name for five days straight could keep it.

So far, neither had managed to keep it for more than eight hours without the other one noticing, but Izuku was definitely winning this.

Izuku’s smile widened as the chat exploded in chaos, his earlier heaviness slowly giving way to something lighter. It wasn’t joy—he wasn’t quite there yet—but it was warmth . Comfort. Like someone had cracked a window in a room that had been locked for too long, letting fresh air drift in.

Pichu: oh, hey @Vulpix
Pichu: back already?

Espurr: That’s Izuku, dumbass.

Pichu: wasn’t @Darumaka Izuku?
Pichu: they changed again?
Pichu: wait, which one is Darumaka now?!
Pichu: WHY DO YOU KEEP SWITCHING STUFF!?!?

Izuku chuckled, already reaching for a reply, but—unsurprisingly—Hitoshi was faster.

Espurr: that’s just the fox war
Espurr: don’t question it
Espurr: you’ll just get dragged into it.

Pichu: but it’s confusing!!
Pichu: can’t we just go back to calling Izu Backpack and call it a day?

Izuku snorted, practically feeling the teasing energy from miles away.

Vulpix: No way in hell! Over my dead body.

Espurr: as funny as it is to tease the Backpack, your confusion is funnier. sorry Denks, you’re not winning this one.

Pichu: I HATE YOU! I HOPE YOU STEP BAREFOOT ON A LEGO!

Oh, boy. Now that’s a serious threat.

Espurr: GASP
Espurr: you take that back
Espurr: you never wish that on someone. not even your worst enemy

Pichu: Well, I'm wishing it on you!

Vulpix: As funny and entertaining as this is, weren’t we talking about going to the arcade?

Pichu: Oh, right!
Pichu: HELLO??? ANYONE COMING?
Pichu: I HAVE COINS
Pichu: AND NO FRIENDS TO SHARE WITH
Pichu: CMON HITO! STOP BROODING AND LETS GO!!
Pichu: I WANNA KICK YOUR ASS IN DDR!

Espurr: You haven't beat me even once in our life

Pichu: I WILL TODAY!

Izuku smiled, as he got up from the coach, the blanket sliding from his shoulders.

Vulpix: Just send the address. I'll meet you there.

Pichu: BACKPACK IS COMING! NOW YOU GOTTA COME TOO, HITO!
Pichu: COME ON!
Pichu: @Espurr
Pichu: @Espurr
Pichu: @Espurr
Pichu: @Espurr
Pichu: @Espurr
Pichu: @Espurr
Pichu: @Espurr

Espurr: GOD DAMNIT, DENKI! STOP SPAMMING ME

Pichu: @Espurr
Pichu: @Espurr

Espurr: I'm coming!
Espurr: And I'm making you regret it.

Izuku laughed under his breath, his heart lighter than it had been in hours. He couldn’t help it. Having friends is so nice.

He went to his room and changed into some more presentable clothes, before grabbing his keys, and wallet from the table. He decided to send a message to Aizawa and Yamada, telling them where he was going. He also left a note at the kitchen table, just in case they didn’t see his message.

They had told Izuku and Shouto that they were always free to go out, as long as they came back before curfew, but Izuku would rather not risk worrying (or annoying) his teachers. So, note it is.

Once everything was done, he grabbed his shoes and left, making sure the cats didn’t escape before he closed the door.

He’d never been to an Arcade before. This should be fun.

…

…

…

So... Izuku was deeply regretting all of his life choices right now.

There he sat, flat on his butt, legs sticking out like a broken action figure in front of the relentlessly smug Dancerush Stardom machine. The floor pulsed with LED lights. The speakers screamed some aggressively cheerful EDM track at maximum volume. And Izuku? He’d just faceplanted in a spectacular collision of limbs, timing, and poor decisions.

Across from him, Hitoshi was on the floor. Literally on the floor. Laughing so hard he looked like he might pass out. Denki wasn’t much better—half-bent over with his face in his hoodie and wheezing like a deflating balloon.

“‘It’s basically like skating,’” Izuku muttered, glaring at the offending machine. “‘You’ll pick it up in no time,’” he mimicked, voice rising in betrayal. “LIARS. I have been betrayed.”

Denki was still wheezing. “Dude! You’re great at ice skating! We figured it’d translate!”

“This is nothing like skating,” Izuku snapped as he pushed himself off the ground, brushing off his pants and pride. “Skating is flowy and quiet and elegant. This—” he waved an accusatory hand at the flashing machine, which was currently mocking him with a cheery “FAILED!” message, “—is a flashing, chaotic death trap for dignity.”

“Yeah,” Hitoshi said, finally upright and leaning against a cabinet, arms crossed. “You just suck at it.”

Izuku gave him a look. “Wow. Thanks. Really feeling the emotional support.”

Hitoshi just shrugged with an infuriating little smirk. “Anytime, Backpack.”

“I hate you both,” Izuku grumbled, even as his lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile.

“No, you don’t,” Denki said cheerfully, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “We’re your emotional support trainwrecks.”

Izuku snorted. He couldn’t even deny that. “Honestly, I’m just glad Shouto isn’t here to see this. He’d never let me live it down.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Hitoshi said, casually pulling out his phone and unlocking it with a flourish. “I have everything recorded. Slow-mo included.”

Izuku froze mid-step, turning to Hitoshi like the final boss just dropped in uninvited. “You what?!”

Hitoshi grinned, holding his phone like it was the Holy Grail of blackmail material. “Oh, yeah. Full video. Caught the entire thing. Even the part where you tripped over your—”

Before he could finish, Izuku was already moving, his body a blur as he lunged toward the phone like a missile on a mission.

“GIMME THAT!” Izuku yelled, almost launching himself across the room.

Hitoshi, however, was quicker, dropping into a crouch and holding the phone just out of reach, a maniacal grin plastered on his face. “Ah, ah, not so fast, Backpack. I can’t let such prime blackmail material slip away that easily.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, his fingers stretching as he reached for the phone again, but it was no use. Hitoshi was just out of his grasp, and for the first time in his life, Izuku could feel every inch of his height disadvantage. He cursed his luck silently. Why couldn’t he be just a few inches taller? Or maybe Hitoshi was just unfairly tall.

“Come on!” Izuku groaned, frustration bubbling up as he futilely reached for the phone. “This is so unfair!” He huffed, crossing his arms in irritation. “Fine. If you delete it, I’ll send you ALL the pictures I have of Michael and Grumpy. I’ll even throw in the one where Michael tried to smother Shouto in his fur, and the video of Grumpy pouncing on Aizawa-Sensei’s head.”

Hitoshi froze mid-laugh. His smug grin faltered just slightly, and his gaze shifted to Izuku, the wheels turning in his head. “Wait, what did you just say?” He leaned in, brows furrowed. “Grumpy… pounced on Aizawa-Sensei’s head?”

“Yeah,” Izuku said with a grin of his own. “And I’ve got the whole thing on tape. You can have it, all of it , if you delete that video right now.”

There was a long, almost tense silence as Hitoshi’s eyes flicked between Izuku and his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen, visibly torn. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he muttered, “Damn you.”  He swiped across the phone and deleted the video with a decisive tap. “Fine. Deal. Now send it to me.”

Izuku’s grin widened as he grabbed his phone and began sending the pictures and videos over to Hitoshi’s device.

“Good doing business with you,” he said, his voice practically dripping with smug satisfaction.

Hitoshi scowled at the incoming messages, but there was no denying the gleam of victory in Izuku’s eyes.

Denki chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the two of them. “You guys are something else,” he muttered with a grin, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth. “Anyway, what are we gonna play next?”

Izuku’s eyes lit up with mischief, and a grin slowly spread across his face. 

“Alright, my turn to choose,” he declared, already scanning the arcade for something to spice things up. The neon lights flickered across his face, and the distant sound of clinking coins and thumping music seemed to fade as he zeroed in on a booth in the corner.

And there it was—a VR Shooter station.

Izuku’s grin widened, practically gleaming with excitement. He pointed toward the booth with a flourish. “How about that?” he said, bouncing on his heels. “A VR Shooter. I’ve always wanted to try one of these.”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical as he glanced over at the booth. “A shooter? Can you even shoot?” He gestured toward Izuku’s hands with a smirk, clearly mocking the idea.

Izuku shrugged casually, a bit of bravado in his stance. “Don’t know. Never played before.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, the slight shiver of nerves barely noticeable beneath his confident exterior.

Denki burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Oh, this is gonna be hilarious.”

Izuku’s grin only grew. Pulling his scarf up to hide his smirk, he felt a thrill run through him. “How about we make it interesting?” he suggested, his voice full of mischief. “Whoever scores the least has to pay for lunch.”

Denki’s eyes immediately lit up, clearly delighted by the idea. “Ooooh, I like that! You’re on!”

Hitoshi looked between the two of them, arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow. “Fine by me,” he said, though there was a slight wariness in his tone. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re shivering like a leaf.”

Izuku’s grin only widened. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” he said with newfound confidence, stepping toward the booth with a determined stride.

Denki bounced to his feet, eager as ever. “Let’s do this!” he cheered, practically dragging Hitoshi along with him.

As they strapped in, adjusting their VR headsets, Izuku felt a rush of anticipation. He couldn’t help but smile—this was going to be fun.

The game started, and without missing a beat, Izuku selected the Sniper character and positioned himself far from his friends, crouching in a corner to find the perfect vantage point.

The match was chaos—Denki and Hitoshi darted around, shooting at everything in sight, but they never found him. Izuku, on the other hand, remained hidden, picking them off one by one. He even started to spawn kill them just for the extra disrespect. It was almost too easy.

When the game ended, Denki and Hitoshi were still in a daze, their mouths hanging open as they gaped at the final score. Both were tied with 0 points.

Izuku couldn’t help but smirk as he removed his headset. “So,” he said casually, stepping away from the booth, “looks like you two are paying for lunch. How about pizza?” He started walking toward the food court, his step light and victorious.

“Wait! Get back here!” Denki shouted, quickly scrambling after him, still trying to process what had just happened. “How did you do that!?”

Izuku just laughed but said nothing. He kept skipping along with a bounce in his step.

Despite how badly his day had started, he felt a warmth in his chest now. Things weren’t so bad after all. With friends like these, it was hard not to feel better.

Even with Hitoshi teasing the hell out of him. Izuku will get back at him for that one.

Chapter Text

Eventually, the time to go back to school arrived—and with it, the rain.

It wasn’t exactly a downpour, but it was steady enough to soak anyone who wasn’t prepared. The kind of rain that clung to your clothes and dripped cold down the back of your neck if you didn’t keep moving.

Despite living with their teachers now, Izuku and Shouto still opted to make their way to school on their own. Part of it was stubborn pride—they didn’t want anyone thinking their teachers were playing favorites, even with something as minor as giving them a ride. But mostly, it was practical: their teachers left for UA three hours before class started for some ungodly reason, and neither of them had any interest in waking up at 4 AM unless it was absolutely necessary.

The last reason, though, was a quieter, simpler one: they wanted to know what it was like to go to school by train like all the other kids their age. For their entire lives, Endeavor had always insisted on a private driver escorting them everywhere. Public transit had never even been an option. So now, with that chapter of their life firmly closed, this felt like a small, necessary rebellion. A chance to be normal.

As far as new experiences went, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world… but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. The train was packed, and both Izuku and Shouto had to deal with the awkwardness of being crammed shoulder to shoulder with strangers in a space that felt two sizes too small.

And, unfortunately, neither of them blended into a crowd well. Not with matching scars etched across their faces. Not with Izuku’s shock of white hair and Shouto’s unmistakable two-tone red and white. They were recognizable. Very recognizable.

It was a little uncomfortable—the way people stared, whispered, pointed quietly, and sometimes not so quietly. Several even recognized them outright, offering congratulations for their performances at the Sports Festival.

Izuku smiled through it all, though he still felt a little strange about being praised for a fight he technically lost. But… it wasn’t a bad feeling, exactly. Just different.

Shouto didn’t say much either, his usual quiet self, offering only brief nods of thanks or a simple, “Thank you,” in his low, even tone. They both rolled with it. They were getting good at that.

By the time their station came around, most of the fuss had died down, and they slipped off the train with minimal trouble, save for a few lingering, "Do your best!" and "We’re rooting for you!" calls.

At least, Izuku thought, it didn’t seem like anyone was too hung up on the fact they were Endeavor’s sons. Small victories.

Izuku had been smart enough to bring an umbrella. Shouto, predictably, hadn’t.

So they squeezed together under Izuku’s, making a run for it as the rain fell steady and cold around them.

“Next time,” Izuku said, glancing up at his brother with a crooked smile as they jogged toward the school gates, “you’re bringing your own.”

Shouto just huffed softly, the faintest curve of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as rain misted the edges of his hair. “Next time,” he agreed.

And together, under one small umbrella, they ran through the rain.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

In their rush to get to school, neither of the twins noticed the figure standing quietly in the shadow of a nearby alleyway, half-hidden by the darkness and the rain.

He didn’t seem to mind the weather. A few stray drops hit his exposed skin, but they sizzled and evaporated almost instantly against the warped, scarred flesh, sending up faint wisps of steam. He stood still, relaxed, leaning casually against the cold brick wall as his eyes followed the two boys weaving through the street under a single umbrella.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, sharp and humorless.

“You two look closer than ever,” he muttered to himself as they disappeared around the corner, oblivious to the gaze burning into their backs.

His fingers flexed slightly at his sides, and the faintest crackle of heat shimmered through the air around him.

“Hope you didn’t forget me, little bros,” he added under his breath, voice rough but steady, carrying easily over the quiet hiss of the rain.

Then he pushed off the wall, stepping deeper into the alley and out of sight.

“I’ll be seeing you two soon… whether you’re ready or not.”

.-- .... --- / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / .--. --- ... ... .. -... .-.. -.-- / - .... .- - / -... . ..--..

Izuku and Shouto reached the UA gates mostly dry, their shoes splashing through the last shallow puddles as the rain tapered off into a light drizzle, the umbrella above them barely rattling in the softened patter.

They slowed their pace, breathing a little heavier but not winded. Shouto pressed the warm side of his quirk against Izuku’s back, a quiet heat that seeped through his jacket. Izuku didn’t say anything, but he gave Shouto a small, thankful smile.

Suddenly, a yellow blur zipped past them.

“Whoa— Iida? Where’s the fire?” Izuku called out, surprised.

“Todoroki-kun! You two need to hurry or you’ll be late!” Iida called back, barely breaking stride.

“We still have five minutes,” Shouto said coolly, steady as always.

“A good student should aim to be at least ten minutes early!” Iida shot back, his voice earnest but his own punctuality questionable.

Izuku’s gaze sharpened. Something was off. Iida was trying to act normal, but his eyes betrayed him—tight, distant.

“Hey, Iida,” Izuku started, but before he could finish—

“If this is about my brother, don’t worry. Everything’s fine!” Iida said too quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, then practically sprinted toward the school.

Later, the news hit: Ingenium was the latest victim of the Hero Killer. He survived, but his hero career was over.

A chill ran down Izuku’s spine that had nothing to do with the weather.

Ingenium had always been a hero Izuku admired—steadfast, reliable, and the complete opposite of Endeavor’s lone-wolf style. Where Endeavor boasted he needed no one, Ingenium was known for teamwork and mentorship.

Izuku felt a pang of sorrow as he thought of Iida. He barely knew the guy beyond class and greetings—what could he even say?

“He’s not fine,” Shouto finally said, breaking the silence. “His expression… it’s like mine was, just days ago.”

Izuku nodded quietly. “I just hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Izuku wasn’t crossing his fingers about it, though. He knew the glint in Iida’s eyes. It was more than sorrow, it was pure hatred. 

Hatred like that didn’t just vanish without you doing something about it. And Izuku really doubted Iida was dealing with his feelings in a healthy way right now. He really hoped Aizawa-Sensei would catch on to what was happening and talk some sense to Izuku's classmate before he did something stupid like going into a revenge crusade.

Iida was strong, one of the best in the class, but Stain killed several heroes, who were better than him in all aspects. He wasn’t someone a hero student could defeat alone.

…

Inside the classroom, the energy was buzzing—nearly everyone was chatting excitedly about being recognized on their way to school. Except for Sero, who looked thoroughly dejected after becoming a meme following his loss to Shouto. To his credit, Shouto had at least apologized for the overkill… though that didn’t seem to be helping much.

At his desk, Hitoshi groaned loudly, burying his head in his arms. Denki gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

“Fifteen. Fifteen people recognized me!” Hitoshi moaned, his voice muffled by the desk. “I want to be an underground hero, damn it… Underground heroes aren’t supposed to be famous!”

Izuku slid into his seat nearby, setting his bag down with a smirk. “Should’ve thought about that before kicking my brother’s ass.”

Without even lifting his head, Hitoshi raised a hand just far enough to flip Izuku off, earning a quiet laugh. Unbothered, Izuku turned to Denki.

“Well, at least I didn’t get turned into a meme like Sero—” Denki started.

“ Ughhh, ” Sero groaned loudly from across the room, dragging his hands down his face dramatically.

“But turns out, being frozen into a popsicle on live TV earns you a lot of sympathy from old ladies.” Denki said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a bright yellow, handmade scarf, holding it up for them to see. “My neighbor knitted this for me.”

Izuku snorted, leaning closer to inspect the scarf. It looked pretty soft and warm. “You said not to go easy,” he added with a shrug. “I didn’t. Blame yourself.”

Denki whistled. “Dude, that’s cold.”

Izuku blinked, then cracked a grin. “Pun intended?”

Denki just shot him finger guns, and even Hitoshi let out a quiet, reluctant laugh from under his arms.

While Shouto wasn’t actively participating in the conversation, sitting quietly at his desk with his usual RBF, he didn’t look nearly as distant as he had in the past few weeks. His posture was more relaxed, his expression softer. Izuku even caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his brother’s mouth.

Coming from Shouto, that might as well have been a full-on belly laugh.

Only a few moments later, Aizawa-sensei arrived, and the room instantly fell silent. He didn’t even need to shoot them his usual red-eyed glare this time—just walking in was enough to command their attention. Even Aizawa looked faintly impressed as he made his way to the front of the classroom.

The suspense was thick in the air, everyone practically holding their breath as he stood there, surveying them with his usual unreadable expression.

“Not bad,” he said at last, and though his tone was as dry as ever, it might as well have been a glowing compliment. “You’re learning. Keep up the good work.”

The class barely managed to restrain a collective cheer, vibrating in their seats at what was, by Aizawa’s standards, high praise.

He turned to the board and began writing in broad, purposeful strokes. “As you know, the Sports Festival had a reason beyond parading you all around like gladiators in a coliseum.”

A couple of students exchanged sheepish looks at that, while others grinned.

Aizawa continued without missing a beat. “You’ve all been scouted for internships. These are the nominations.”

He underlined the word on the board, then turned back to face them. “Usually, nominations are a bit more spread out, but this year…” His gaze swept over the room, pausing briefly on a few of them. “This year is unusual in many ways.”

At the top of the list was Shouto, boasting over four thousand nominations. Right under him sat Izuku, with just over three thousand. Bakugou followed closely behind with just under three thousand, despite having lost in his second fight. After that, the numbers dropped sharply: Tokoyami, Iida, and Yaoyorozu had a few hundred each; Kirishima, only a few dozen; and Hitoshi had just under a hundred, despite winning the entire festival.

The classroom erupted into a loud buzz of voices—some cheering, some complaining, others congratulating each other.

“Shinsou won the festival—why did he get so few offers?” Uraraka asked aloud.

“My quirk isn’t flashy. Most heroes won’t want to work with me,” Hitoshi shrugged, clearly unbothered by the low number.

“Wow, you three got so many offers!” Kirishima said, nodding at Izuku, Shouto, and Katsuki.

Izuku scoffed. “Bet most of those are just people trying to suck up to our old man.”

Shouto nodded, smirking. “They’re probably trying to curry favor with Endeavor or get publicity by having his sons on their team. Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, if anyone earned their nominations on merit alone, it’s Kats,” Izuku said with a grin, patting Bakugou’s shoulder.

“Shut it, Coldplay,” Katsuki grumbled, shrugging off the hand. “Forget your old man. You beat me, so of course those dumb heroes see you’re worth something.”

“Wow, Kats, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Izuku teased with a smirk.

“Shut up, Izu! Before I kill you!” Katsuki yelled, his hands crackling with tiny explosions as Izuku laughed.

“Kats? Izu?” Kirishima raised an eyebrow. “When did that happen?”

“Shut up, you too, Shitty Hair!” Katsuki shot back, turning his attention to Kirishima.

“Oh, come on, dude. It’s the first time I’ve heard you use a normal nickname. I want one too!”

“You can have one when you beat me in a fight,” Katsuki smirked. “Since that’s never happening, you better get used to being Shitty Hair.”

Kirishima groaned good-naturedly, still grinning, but the room’s energy shifted quickly as Aizawa-sensei stepped forward, his tired eyes sharp and commanding.

“Okay, settle down,” he said, sweeping the class with a quirked glare that immediately hushed the chatter. Everyone snapped to attention, their voices fading to silence.

“Now, even those of you who didn’t get any nominations will be going on internships,” Aizawa continued, voice low but firm. “UA has a list of forty agencies to choose from. This week will be critical for your future as heroes, so you’d better act the part.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before pressing on. “Being nominated means these heroes want to invest in your growth. But if their interest wanes, they can rescind those nominations. So you need to work hard to impress your mentors.”

A few students exchanged nervous glances, the stakes sinking in.

“Now,” he said, his tone dropping even more serious, “you all face one of the most important decisions of your career.”

His eyes locked onto the entire class with an intensity that made nearly everyone gulp.

“It’s time to choose your hero names,” he said, with his patented “logical ruse” grin.

The classroom practically erupted. Students nearly toppled out of their seats as a wave of excitement surged through the room.

“Your hero name is how the public—and your fellow heroes—will know you out in the field,” Aizawa continued, voice slipping back into its usual monotone. “Your entire professional identity will be tied to this name. Changing it later is technically possible, but rare. Once the press gets hold of it, you’re pretty much stuck. So…” His sharp gaze swept across the class. “You’d better take this seriously—”

“—Or there will be hell to pay later!!”

The classroom door burst open with a dramatic BANG , and in strutted Midnight-sensei, radiating all the flair of a pro wrestler making a grand entrance. Her hair billowed behind her as she struck a pose—a little too suggestive considering she was in front of a bunch of teenagers— in the doorway, her voice cutting through the stunned silence.

The class jumped, half frozen in shock, the other half already breaking into nervous laughter.

“Good morning, my adorable little protégés!” she purred, sashaying to the front as Aizawa quietly stepped aside, acting like this was all perfectly normal.

“Midnight will be supervising the process,” Aizawa said dryly, utterly unfazed. “She’s better suited for this kind of thing.”

“Of course I am!” Midnight beamed, striking another theatrical pose before looping an arm around Aizawa’s shoulder. “This guy couldn’t even be bothered to pick his own hero name. He just went with what Present Mic suggested. As a joke, I should add.”

“The point is, you better take this seriously,” Aizawa said flatly, casually pushing Midnight’s arm off his shoulder as if this were routine.

He let the statement hang for a moment, then added with his usual deadpan, “Always remember the cautionary tale of the hero who decided to use ‘Skibidi’ as his hero name.”

A ripple of confused murmurs passed through the class.

Aizawa gave them a blank stare. “He’s stuck wearing a toilet seat around his neck now.”

The entire room collectively winced.

Midnight let out a bark of laughter. “It’s true! Poor guy. Went viral for all the wrong reasons.”

“Exactly,” Aizawa said, rubbing his temples like he already regretted being awake for this. “So pick something you’re willing to live with for the rest of your life… and pick something that will be taken seriously.”

He paused, then gave a shrug that was the physical embodiment of “not my problem.”

“Or don’t. It’s your career on the line, after all.”

With that, he made his way over to his desk, pulled out his sleeping bag and zipped himself in.

“I’m going to sleep now,” came his muffled voice from inside the cocoon. “Don’t wake me up unless someone is dying.”

The entire class stared in stunned silence, until Midnight clapped her hands dramatically.

“Well! Now that Mr. Sunshine is done inspiring you all,” she said, grinning brightly, “let’s get started, shall we?”

Despite the very clear warning they’d all just received, the first person to leap enthusiastically out of his seat—because of course it was—was Aoyama.

With all the pomp and flair of a Broadway star, he struck a dazzling pose: one leg stretched dramatically forward, chest thrust out, and his hand sparkling under the imaginary spotlight only he could see.

“I wish to be known as…” he declared, his voice soaring with theatrical grandeur, “The Shining Hero: I Cannot Stop Twinkling!”

The class collectively winced. A few groaned, others barely managed to choke back their laughter.

Midnight tilted her head, considering it for all of three seconds before humming, “Mmm… bit long.” She smirked playfully. “But I like the enthusiasm!”

Tapping her finger against her chin, she gave a decisive nod. “Let’s tighten it up—how about ‘Can’t Stop Twinkling’?”

Aoyama gasped like he’d just been handed a holy relic. Placing a hand dramatically over his heart, he whispered reverently, “Magnifique… It is… perfect!”

Midnight flashed him a thumbs-up. “Approved.”

A round of chuckles went through the room as Aoyama sat back down with a proud little sparkle in his eye.

A few names later, Midnight vetoed Ashido’s pick of “Alien Queen” with a laugh and a shake of her head, something about not wanting lawsuits or horror movie associations.

Izuku, meanwhile, kind of tuned the whole thing out as he stared down at the blank white space on his board.

A hero name that would define him, huh?

“That’s… harder than I thought,” he muttered under his breath.

It wasn’t like he’d never imagined what he wanted to be called. He’d spent years daydreaming about it—but most of those names were either embarrassingly dumb… or definitely copyrighted. No way he could run around calling himself Sub-Zero without getting sued into oblivion.

Izuku muttered quietly to himself, scribbling on his board, “Hmm... Cold. Ice. Sub-Zero. Snow. Zero Celsius or Thirty-two Fahrenheit.” His brow furrowed deep in concentration.

He glanced up to see Shouto staring at his own board, his expression tight with thought. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Shouto gave a small, almost wistful smile.

“Still nothing?” Izuku asked gently.

Shouto shook his head. “The only thing I’ve thought of so far is just ‘Shouto.’ A hero name should represent who we want to be. And I want to be me.”

Izuku smiled softly. “Maybe, but I think it would be kind of weird if everyone just called you by your name. It might lose some of the specialness. But honestly, I think it’s great that you’re finally embracing all of yourself again. You’re finally balanced.”

“Balanced…” Shouto repeated, eyes widening as a sudden idea struck him. He quickly scribbled something down on his board.

“You're a genius, Izuku!” he said suddenly, practically leaping out of his seat and heading toward the front of the classroom.

The classroom held its breath as Shouto strode to the front, his usual calm replaced by a rare flicker of excitement. He cleared his throat and lifted his board for all to see. Bold, crisp letters declared his new hero name:

“The Thermal Hero: Balance.”

Izuku’s smile widened with pride—simple, direct, and unmistakably Shouto. In that moment, he felt nothing but admiration for his brother.

Turning back to his own board, Izuku’s thoughts drifted. He wasn’t balanced like Shouto—far from it. He was pure cold, and the colder he became, the stronger his quirk grew.

“Sheer cold. Winter. Frostbite,” he murmured quietly as Shouto settled back into his seat, eyes still on Izuku’s board.

Ignoring the class’s laughter at Katsuki’s rejected “King Explosion Murder” hero name, Izuku stayed focused.

“You know,” Shouto said, nodding toward Izuku’s board, “father always said your quirk is just a weaker version of my right side. But he's obviously wrong. Your ice can get so much colder than mine ever did. I wonder if you could reach absolute zero.”

Izuku stopped writing, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“Absolute zero,” he giggled softly. “That’s perfect, Shouto.”

Izuku quickly scribbled his hero name and stood up, moving to the front of the class. The spotlight still made him uneasy, but he pushed through it.

“The kind of hero I want to be… Honestly, I’m still figuring that out,” he began, his voice steady despite the nerves. “But we don’t really need to have everything figured out just yet. It’s fine. Or maybe, you could say…” Then, with a playful smirk, he flipped his board around for everyone to see. “It’s Ok.”

The Sheer Cold Hero: OK.

Chapter Text

Today officially ranked as the weirdest lunchtime Denki had ever experienced.

Izuku sat hunched over a mountain of internship offers like a man on a mission. His lunch sat untouched as he sorted each paper into increasingly specific piles—agency reputation, mission type, survival rate of former sidekicks, costume design compatibility (probably), and at least three piles labeled in shorthand Denki couldn’t begin to decipher.

He was so focused that the world could’ve ended outside the cafeteria, and Izuku wouldn’t have noticed. The only thing keeping him physically functioning was Shouto, calmly eating his own lunch beside him and occasionally nudging bites of food toward Izuku’s mouth with his chopsticks.

And each time—without looking up or missing a beat—Izuku opened his mouth, chewed, and kept muttering to himself.

Denki stared, blinking slowly. “Are you two always like this?”

Shouto glanced up, expression flat but not unkind. “He forgets to eat when he gets like this.”

“And you just… feed him?” Denki blinked again. “Instead of, I don’t know, trying to snap him out of it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Shouto said simply. “He does the same when I’m reading.”

Denki opened his mouth to respond, stopped, then squinted at Izuku for a second. The white-haired boy didn’t even flinch as he crossed out another agency with an aggressively large red X.

“…Can I try?” Denki asked, trying very hard not to sound like he was blushing.

Shouto blinked once. Then—expression unreadable—he handed over the chopsticks with a faint, smug little smirk. “Be my guest.”

From across the table, Hitoshi arched a brow and immediately began grinning like a cat who saw someone step into a trap he’d set hours ago.

Ignoring him, Denki scooted closer and picked up a piece of chicken from Izuku’s tray. He hesitated for half a second, then brought it to Izuku’s lips.

Izuku, still laser-focused, just opened his mouth and took the bite. “Thanks,” he mumbled, already marking another rejection.

Denki sat there, chopsticks still raised, his face red and his heart doing gymnastics in his chest.

Hitoshi let out a low whistle. “Wow,” he muttered under his breath. “Didn’t even glitch. You’re so smitten.”

Denki covered his face with one hand. “Shut up, Espurr.”

Shouto simply took another bite of rice, seemingly perfectly content with letting Denki continue to feed his brother with all the coordination of someone trying not to explode from a single brush of fingers.

Denki, for his part, was clearly malfunctioning. Every time Izuku accepted a bite, he felt like he was short circuiting from using his quirk too much.

Then, just as Izuku accepted another bite of chicken, he suddenly lit up like someone had flipped a switch.

“Shouto, Shouto! Look!” he exclaimed, nearly bouncing out of his seat, eyes shining as he thrust a paper toward his brother’s face.

“Chew first, Izuku,” Shouto said dryly, barely looking up. Still, the corner of his mouth twitched.

Izuku blinked, realized there was in fact still food in his mouth, and quickly chewed and swallowed before grinning again. “I got an offer from Ivory King!”

He practically shoved the paper into Shouto’s face again.

Denki blinked. “The guy with the what now?”

Shouto took the paper, raising a brow. “The big guy with the ice tiger?”

“Yeah, that’s him!” Izuku beamed, almost vibrating in place.

“Wait,” Hitoshi said, squinting at Izuku like he was trying to solve a riddle. “He’s underground. Like, more unknown than Eraserhead. How the hell do you know him?”

Izuku shrugged, trying to act casual but looking far too pleased with himself. “Same way I knew about Eraserhead before the Entrance Exam. I found a grainy clip of him taking down smugglers in Hokkaido one night, then ended up pulling an all-nighter tracking every obscure mention and blurry fight video I could find.”

Shouto didn’t even look up from his tray. “The next day you were so grumpy and sleep-deprived that you—”

“That's enough, Shouto!” Izuku yelped, face flaming red as he slapped a hand over his brother’s mouth.

The table burst into laughter—Denki wheezing, Hitoshi smirking, and even a few students from nearby glancing over to see what was so funny.

Honestly, they were a perfect comedy duo. Shouto was born to be the straight man, and Izuku practically fed him the setups on a silver platter.

Shouto, calm as ever, gently peeled Izuku’s hand off his mouth and deadpanned, “He accidentally froze his bowl of cereal. Then he started crying, saying he didn’t want a cereal popsicle.”

“Shouto!”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Okay, okay,” Denki said once he’d stopped laughing, wiping a tear from his eye. “But seriously, can anyone tell me who this Ivory King guy is? That name sounds like it belongs to a Final Fantasy boss.”

Izuku gently smoothed the letter like it was a priceless artifact. “He’s based in northern Hokkaido. His quirk is called Blizzard—he can emit cold strong enough to trigger actual blizzards. He wears a full white armor that contains the cold, kind of like Thirteen’s costume, since his quirk is passive.”

“And the tiger?” Denki asked, already way too invested.

“Aava. She’s a support animal—a white tiger with a quirk called Snow Cloak. Basically, she turns invisible in snowstorms. They fight together.”

“The guy has a pet tiger?!” Denki’s voice practically cracked as he stared at Izuku in disbelief. “Okay, yeah. That’s hella cool. Like—unfairly cool. Why does he get a tiger? I want a tiger!”

“You’d forget to feed it and become its lunch,” Hitoshi said flatly, not even looking up from his tray.

Denki gasped, one hand flying to his chest like Hitoshi had stabbed him. “Excuse you! I would be a fantastic tiger dad.”

“You forgot to feed your goldfish for three days,” Hitoshi replied without missing a beat.

“That was one time! And Sparkle was very resilient!” Denki protested, glaring.

“Sparkle died, Denki.”

Denki let out a dramatic groan and crossed his arms. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it.” He turned to Izuku with a theatrical whine. “Izuuuuuu! Tell Hitoshi to stop bullying meeeee!”

But Izuku was already lost in the paperwork, furiously scribbling on the internship acceptance form with laser focus, completely ignoring the world around him.

Defeated, Denki sighed and picked up another piece of tempura, returning to his now self-appointed duty of feeding Izuku. “This is betrayal,” he muttered dramatically. “You’re all traitors.”

Hitoshi snickered into his rice, and Denki could swear Shouto was smirking.

Utter betrayal. Izuku was clearly his only real friend in this cruel, cold world.

.-- .... --- / --. --- - / - .... . / .-. . ..-. . .-. . -. -.-. . ..--..

Shouto was feeling jealous. And he hated it.

He was genuinely happy for Izuku—truly. His brother had found the perfect internship, one that fit him like a glove and had him beaming with excitement all afternoon. Shouto was proud of him. He was.

But that didn’t change the fact that Shouto himself was still stuck.

He had thousands of offers to sift through, but more than 90% were clearly shallow—heroes who had nothing meaningful to teach him, just hoping to ride the PR wave of hosting “Endeavor’s son.” A few of them he even remembered from hero galas he’d been dragged to as a kid, their smiles just as fake then as they were now. It was like watching those cliché sitcoms he and Izuku binged late at night, where everyone just chased after the most popular girl in school for the sake of status.

Just thinking about interning with one of them made his skin crawl.

Now, back home and slumped on the couch, he stared down at the thick stack of nomination letters. He’d been trying to find a name— any name—that didn’t reek of clout-chasing or desperate attempts to curry favor with his father. So far, it was looking bleak.

A soft poke on his shoulder made him flinch. He turned to find Izuku standing behind the couch, watching him with that quiet, gentle look that always seemed to see straight through him.

“Shouto, dinner’s ready,” Izuku said softly.

Shouto blinked, only now realizing how tense his shoulders were, his fingers clenched around one of the papers. He let it fall back onto the pile with a sigh and stood up.

“Coming,” he muttered.

They walked to the table together and sat side by side, like always. Aizawa—Should he call him Shouta now? Or maybe Da— Nope. Not going there!—was already at the table, scanning something with his usual dead-eyed focus. Yamada—Hizashi?—was humming cheerfully as he brought over a steaming tray of food.

Shouto absently pushed his rice around with his chopsticks, barely listening as the conversation floated around him like background noise.

“No paperwork at the dinner table, Shou,” Yamada chided lightly, placing a bowl in front of Aizawa.

Aizawa didn’t look up. “It’s not paperwork. It’s a report on—”

“Still counts,” Yamada interrupted with practiced ease.

With a long-suffering sigh, Aizawa folded the report and set it aside, clearly used to losing this particular battle. Yamada looked far too smug as he took his seat across from them, already digging into his food with enthusiasm. The usual back-and-forth resumed between the two adults—Yamada’s bright teasing against Aizawa’s flat sarcasm. Across from them, Izuku was trying not to choke on his food, his shoulders trembling with laughter every time a new jab was thrown.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to internships—inevitable, really.

Izuku straightened instantly, practically glowing. “Ivory King was the best match for me,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Not just because of our quirks, but because he’s one of the few who definitely doesn’t care about my last name.”

Aizawa nodded. “He’s not the type to care about image. Ivory’s as reclusive as they come. If he made you an offer, that’s because he sees potential.”

“He’s even more camera-shy than you,” Yamada added, elbowing Aizawa. “Which is saying a lot.”

Aizawa gave him a dry look. “I’m not camera-shy. I just hate PR.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” Yamada sang.

Izuku chuckled, clearly pleased. But then Yamada turned his attention to the other side of the table.

“What about you, Shouto? Found anyone?”

Something about the way he said Shouto’s name—light and warm—made it sit strangely in his chest. Not a bad strange. Just… strange.

Shouto sighed at the question, his chopsticks hovering mid-air.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “That’s a no, then.”

“I want to focus on controlling my fire now that I’m using it,” Shouto admitted. “But almost every fire hero out there is connected to… him. Then the others… I don’t want to train under one of his fanboys. I mean, Slidin’ Go offered. What exactly am I supposed to learn from him?”

Izuku blinked, then turned to Yamada with a sly look.

“If only there were a certain pro hero—who also works as a teacher—who’s really good at handling powerful and volatile quirks,” he said innocently. “Someone who’s been training students for years. Wouldn’t it be nice for a hero like that to teach my very talented twin brother?”

Shouto glanced up, confused, then looked at Yamada. “…Present Mic?”

“Bingo,” Izuku said, grinning. “Most of his interns and sidekicks aren’t just sound-type users. He specializes in difficult quirks. Stuff with high risk, high output. It’s kinda his thing.”

Shouto blinked. “Wait. Can teachers even take interns?”

“It’s not against the rules,” Aizawa replied, already halfway back to his report. “We don’t offer because we want you to experience working with different pros. But if a student comes to us. Getting your own connections is important too. I’m taking Shinsou, because he begged me to.”

Yamada snorted. “Don’t pretend you didn’t even try to deny him, Shou.”

Aizawa didn’t deny it.

Shouto went quiet again, picking at his rice, clearly deep in thought.

Then, hesitantly, he asked, “Would you… take me?”

Yamada’s eyes lit up. “Oh? Was that a request I just heard?”

Shouto looked up, the faintest flicker of hope in his voice. “Yeah. I think it was.”

“Looks like you just landed yourself an internship, Little Listener!” Yamada said with a wide grin, shooting finger guns at Shouto with his usual flair.

Shouto blinked at the nickname but said nothing. For the first time all evening, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I look forward to it,” he replied, finally digging into his food with more enthusiasm.

The mood had just started to relax when Yamada paused mid-bite, frowning thoughtfully. “Wait… where does Ivory King work again?”

“Nowhere,” Aizawa answered without looking up. “He’s a traveling hero. If I remember correctly, the last I heard... he was heading to—” He stopped. “…Oh.”

“Shou?” Yamada asked, tone shifting.

“Hosu,” Aizawa said, his voice tight.

“Oh,” Izuku echoed, narrowing his eyes. “So I guess he’s been assigned to the Stain case, too.”

Aizawa nodded. “He was put on the case after it was confirmed that Stain uses blades. Ivory’s one of the best heroes for handling that kind of threat,” he turned to Izuku with a serious expression. “Izuku, you’re smart and have a good head on your shoulders, despite your reckless streak. I won’t stop you from going—but promise me you’ll stay with Ivory King at all times, and you won’t engage Stain unless there’s absolutely no other choice.”

Izuku took a deep breath, meeting Aizawa’s gaze with seriousness. “You have my word. I won’t go after Stain.”

“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret it,” Aizawa said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Also, keep an eye on Iida if you can. He chose to intern with Manual over better options. I fear he might do something reckless, but I have no proof to stop him.”

Yamada sighed. “We really need to start mandating psychological evaluations before internships. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

From what Shouto recalled, students had access to Hound Dog counseling, but it was optional. Even after the USJ incident, no mandatory sessions were required.

“Just another thing the HPSC keeps stonewalling Nedzu on,” Aizawa muttered, clearly frustrated.

Yamada nodded grimly. “They buy into that whole ‘therapy is for weak heroes’ nonsense.”

Aizawa then turned serious, narrowing his eyes at Izuku and Shouto. “I can’t force you as your teacher, but as your guardian, I’m requiring at least one therapy session. I want you to have regular sessions, but I won’t force it.”

“Mental health is no joke,” Yamada added. “Especially for heroes. Everyone at UA sees a therapist regularly. We witness things most people can’t imagine. Bottling it up only makes it worse.” He gave a small, tired smile. “I know you two understand that.”

Izuku and Shouto exchanged glances, surprised. The idea of therapy as a weakness had been hammered into them by Endeavor, and their instincts almost made them refuse. But after a moment’s thought, neither argued. 

Because that was Endeavor’s mindset. And Endeavor had been wrong so many times before. This was probably just another one of them.

“Understood,” Shouto said quietly.

Izuku nodded. “Okay. One session. That’s fair.”

A comfortable silence fell, broken only by the clinking of chopsticks and distant city sounds.

Eventually, Yamada leaned forward, grinning. “Alright! Enough heavy stuff. Who wants dessert? I brought taiyaki!”

Izuku’s eyes lit up. “With custard?”

“Custard and chocolate,” Yamada said proudly.

Shouto looked up, suspicious. “Is this a bribe?”

“Obviously,” Yamada smirked. “You’re teenagers. Sugar beats logic every time.”

With the tension broken, all four laughed. Shouto wondered if this—laughter, ease, simple moments like these—was what family dinners were really meant to feel like.

Chapter Text

The train ride to Hosu was… awkward.

Izuku boarded with his backpack slung over one shoulder, the crisp letter from Ivory King tucked safely inside. As expected, Iida was already there, seated across the aisle. The taller boy gave him a curt nod before turning back to the window, posture ramrod straight, gaze locked on the blur of scenery rushing past.

Clearly, conversation was off the table.

Izuku didn’t take it personally. He’d grown up with worse. Years in the Todoroki household had turned enduring uncomfortable silences into something of an art form.

Endeavor had always insisted on “family dinners” whenever he was home. Which always boiled down to everyone sitting down in awkward silence. The only sounds would be the clink of cutlery or the slow tick of the wall clock.

Compared to that, this train ride was almost pleasant. Like having dinner with friends—if those friends were determined to pretend you didn’t exist.

So Izuku let Iida have his silence.

He pulled out his phone instead, opening the photo Shouto had sent earlier from the Put-Your-Hands-Up Radio building—Present Mic’s combined radio tower and hero agency. The place looked as flashy and larger-than-life as he’d imagined. One day he’d have to see it in person.

Still, this wasn’t the time for jealousy. He had his own internship to be excited about. Hosu was still hours away, though, and Iida seemed committed to ignoring him for the entire trip.

With a quiet sigh, Izuku tucked his phone away, settled back into his seat, and let himself drift into a nap. No reason to suffer a boring ride while awake.

Eventually, the announcement that his station had arrived woke him up, and he got off the train. He tried to say goodbye and wish Iida a good internship, but the boy barely gave him a nod back.

Rude.

…

Izuku found himself double-checking the address for the third time, just to be sure he was in the right place.

Hosu was a fairly normal city, full of tall buildings and the constant hum of traffic and chatter—a typical bustling metropolis. People hurried everywhere, weaving through crowded sidewalks, and the noise never really stopped.

But the spot Izuku stood in now was worlds apart from all that. He was tucked away in a narrow back alley, facing a building that looked like it belonged in a horror movie—a rundown hotel with peeling paint, cracked windows, and a heavy air of neglect.

He knew Ivory King was an underground hero—one who avoided the flashy limelight most pros craved. Still, this felt like taking that to an extreme. But the address matched, so there was no turning back.

Taking a shaky breath, Izuku steadied his trembling right hand—whether it was excitement, nerves, or the creeping cold, he couldn’t tell—and pushed open the door.

Inside was silence.

The lobby was shrouded in darkness, the kind of darkness that made it impossible to tell where the walls ended. The faint outline of a counter sat in one corner, barely visible.

He stepped forward cautiously. Almost immediately, the temperature plunged. His breath fogged the air, and an icy shiver wracked his body. His Quirk flared involuntarily, shifting him into Level 1 as his skin tightened and chills set in.

Then—

A sharp whistle echoed through the room, just a heartbeat before a spear sliced through the air where his head would have been if Izuku hadn’t managed to dodge.

Instinct took over. Izuku grabbed the shaft, ice spreading rapidly back through it to his attacker. But to his shock, the frozen tip didn’t slow the incoming strike.

Before he could react, a heavy paw slammed into his back, pinning him down. A mouthful of freezing teeth pressed against his neck.

A low growl rumbled in his ear, and Izuku froze—his body locked in place by raw intimidation.

“That's enough, Aava.”

The calm, commanding voice filled the room. The pressure vanished—teeth and paw lifting away.

Izuku scrambled to his feet, legs weak and shaking. He raised an arm to shield his eyes as light flooded the room.

When his vision cleared, he found himself face-to-face with a towering figure.

Ivory King.

Izuku wasn’t so prideful that he wouldn’t admit he wasn’t exactly a giant. But Ivory King was easily over seven feet tall, and seemed even larger encased in his shining ivory armor. Not a single inch of skin was exposed beneath the gleaming plates. One hand held the frozen spear, the other gently stroking a massive white tiger resting at his feet.

“You have good instincts,” the hero said, eyes calm but assessing. “But I noticed three problems.”

Izuku took a deep breath, forcing himself to steady his pounding heart.

“First problem,” Ivory King began, thrusting his spear forward until the blunted tip hovered just inches from Izuku’s face. “Your reaction time is too slow. It took you about half a second after you registered the attack to move. If I hadn’t held back on my first strike, you’d be nursing a concussion right now.”

Izuku nodded, acknowledging the truth of the critique. He knew his reflexes needed sharpening.

“Second problem,” the hero continued, scratching the tiger behind its ears, eliciting a soft purr that sounded almost like a cat’s. “You have tunnel vision. Once you saw me, you forgot your surroundings completely. Aava didn’t even need her quirk to sneak up on you.”

Izuku nodded again. No point denying it—he was here to learn, after all.

“Third problem. Your quirk.”

The words hit Izuku like ice running through his veins. He froze.

“Your quirk is unstable. It affects you too much. No matter how accustomed you are to the drawbacks, your body simply isn’t made for it.” Izuku couldn’t see Ivory King’s eyes beneath his helmet, but he had a feeling they were narrowed. “Quirks aren’t supposed to be this unbalanced—except in very specific cases. Pardon my bluntness, but I have to ask: you came from a quirk marriage, didn’t you?”

A cold shiver ran through Izuku, but he couldn’t lie here. A dry, bitter laugh escaped him. “Yeah. I’m the failed project.” He looked down. “You saw the perfect version.”

“Your brother, you mean.” Ivory King replied quietly. “His quirk is balanced, though his hesitation to use his fire side leaves him lacking control sometimes. But we aren’t talking about Todoroki Shouto. We’re talking about Todoroki Izuku.”

The hero stepped closer and knelt to meet Izuku’s eyes. Even on one knee, he still towered over the younger boy.

“Your body expects to run hot, but your quirk exhales cold,” he said, voice calm but firm. “This imbalance causes you to shiver even when you’re not actively using your power. Am I right?”

Izuku swallowed hard and met Ivory King’s gaze, nodding silently.

“I’m supposed to have a minor cold quirk paired with minor heat resistance,” Izuku explained carefully. “My body expects to run at around 102 F, while my cold was only supposed to be enough to freeze water. But after… an incident, my quirk awakened differently. I’m practically fireproof now, and I’m not sure how cold I can get. The lowest I’ve reached was about minus 200 F before I got too close to frostbite. I can also melt ice by absorbing heat from it, but that just makes me colder faster. My body still expects to run at that higher temperature, so I’m nearly always feeling cold.”

Ivory King nodded slowly, listening intently.

“That’s not something to be ashamed of,” he said, lifting his armored hand, palm up. Frost shimmered along the gauntlet’s surface like delicate ice crystals. “Your body isn’t built for your quirk, but that doesn’t mean you can’t master it. You’ve already proven that.” He paused, voice dropping a little. “Besides, do you understand how my quirk works?”

Izuku straightened, recognition sparking in his eyes. “You have a disaster-class quirk. Those are incredibly rare. Disaster-class quirks have effects like natural disasters—hard to control and devastating if unleashed carelessly. Like Thirteen’s black hole quirk, or that villain from years ago who caused earthquakes.” He took a breath. “Your body generates cold so fast, you could permanently change the climate around you if you aren’t careful. Just taking off your helmet is enough to trigger a snowstorm. And because it’s passive, you can’t ever turn it off.”

Izuku exhaled, the weight of it sinking in. “It’s not so different from what I can do. I’ve made snowstorms too, but never on your scale.”

Ivory King smiled faintly beneath his helmet. “However, you have much more control. You don’t need special armor to contain your quirk. Your scale might be smaller, but your potential is enormous. You could surpass me—if you master it.” He stepped closer, eyes locked onto Izuku’s. “That’s why I sent you the nomination.”

He rose fully to his towering height, his gaze sharpening until Izuku felt like he was being measured and weighed down to his core. Aava got up and walked close to her Master, standing next to him with her eyes fixed on Izuku as well.

“This won’t be easy. It’ll be hard. Painful, even. You’ll push yourself farther than you think possible. You’ll feel cold like never before. You will feel like you’re breaking. If you don’t think you can handle that, there’s no shame in walking away now. You still have time to find another internship.”

Ivory King’s voice grew ironclad. “But this is your only chance to quit. If you accept, I won’t let you back out. Even if you beg me.”

The room seemed to close in around Izuku as he digested those words. He couldn’t deny that he was scared. Ivory King was intimidating, and Izuku was almost reminded of Endeavor towering over him, calling him a failure.

But this was different. Unlike Endeavor, Ivory King was offering to teach Izuku how to tame his quirk. Maybe it would be scary. Maybe it would be painful. But Izuku was ready to live by his school motto. He wasn’t going to continue in Shouto's shadow forever. He wanted to stand beside his brother.

Izuku met Ivory King’s gaze steadily.

“I won’t quit,” Izuku said, voice steady. “I want to learn. I want to get stronger.”

Ivory King’s helmet tilted — a small, deliberate motion that felt very much like a nod. For a second Izuku could swear the voice behind the steel softened. “Good,” the hero replied. “Welcome. I am Ivory King, and this is Aava.”

Aava shifted beside him, a soft rumble like distant thunder vibrating through the floor.

“I am Todo—no.” Izuku swallowed, smiled briefly, then straightened. “I’m the Sheer Cold Hero: 0K.” He bowed, hands formal at his sides. “I’ll be in your care this week.”

“Well met, 0K.” Ivory King’s voice was blunt as he flicked a heavy brass key through the air; it landed with a cold thunk in Izuku’s palm. “Room 304, third floor. Unpack, suit up, and meet me back here in ten.”

The key felt like both a promise and a gauntlet. Izuku swallowed at the metallic chill eating into his skin. “Yes, sir,” he said, steadying his voice even though his stomach was jittering.

He took the stairs two at a time. Inside, the building betrayed none of its alleyway theatrics: the scent of old disinfectant and stone, humming corridor lights, and an efficient, built-to-last austerity instead of theatrical decay. Room 304 was a narrow cubby—single bed, bolted metal locker, a small window looking out over the alley. Functional. Practical. Exactly what he’d expected from someone who ran a hands-on, no-nonsense operation.

He didn’t fuss with niceties. He shoved his backpack into the locker, dumped his suitcase on the bed, and changed into his costume with hands that trembled for reasons he couldn’t immediately name. He checked temperature regulators twice, tugged straps into place, and ran fingertips along seams until everything felt right.

When he stepped into the hall, Aava was waiting—white fur muted in the dim light, broad shoulders filling the corridor. She moved with deliberate purpose, enormous and patient, and it was obvious she expected him to follow.

They went up again, to the fourth floor. The door Ivory King opened led into a long, low room: mats spread in the center, sealed cases along the wall. Ivory King stood there, spear propped against his shoulder; the armor’s pale plates caught the light and seemed to leach warmth from the air. He gave Izuku one assessing look and nodded once.

“You came prepared,” Ivory King said. “Good. I won’t coddle you, 0K. Conditioning first—metabolic adjustment, breath control, suppression drills. You’ll never stop feeling cold. That’s not something you can change. What you can do is build your tolerance to the cold. Get your shivering under command, and control will follow. We push to the edge of frostbite. Then a little farther.”

He indicated a mat. “Sit down, hands on the mat. Begin deep, controlled breathing.”

Izuku obeyed, sitting cross legged and laying his hands flat on the mat. Ivory King sat opposite and rested his armored hand on the mat’s edge. The instant metal met fabric, a slow, insistent cold traveled up Izuku’s gloves—not a snap of pain, but a persistent tightening of skin and muscle. His breath wanted to come fast; he forced it slow.

“Breath in for four,” Ivory King intoned. “Hold for four. Out for six. Repeat. The cold does not control you.”

His voice was calm, absolute. Izuku inhaled—four counts—held—four—and exhaled to six, counting in his head like a metronome. The cold bit at his bones, but with every controlled cycle his trembling eased a fraction. 

Ivory King watched him the whole time, helmeted gaze unreadable. When Izuku’s rhythm steadied, the hero’s hand tightened once on the mat for emphasis.

“Good,” he said simply. “I’ll slowly make it colder, and you’ll keep your shivering under control. This will hurt. It will take everything you have. But if you learn this—if you make your body obey—you will turn what breaks you into what saves you. Get ready. You keep going until I say you’re done.”

Izuku drew in a shaky breath, swallowed the tremor in his voice, and met Ivory King’s helmeted stare with a wobbling grin. 

“D-d-do your worst,” he managed.

Ivory King’s armor clinked softly as he rose, the sound echoing in the cold, quiet room. “That’s the spirit,” he said, voice low but steady. “You’ll need it.”

He stepped closer, and the temperature seemed to drop further—an invisible weight settling over Izuku’s skin like a heavy frost. The icy chill crept along his limbs, deeper and deeper, until it wasn’t just cold anymore. It was biting, relentless, a whisper of frostbite dancing at the edges of his senses.

“Remember your breathing,” Ivory King instructed, voice like a stone carving carved by winter winds. “Don’t let the cold seize your mind.”

Izuku clenched his fists, forcing air through slow, measured breaths. The cold clawed at him, urging panic, begging his muscles to give in to the shivers. But beneath it all, beneath the freeze and the bite, he found a fragile kernel of calm.

Aava padded forward, her white fur brushing Izuku’s arm for a moment as she settled at his side not close enough to share warmth, but still a grounding presence.

Ivory King’s gaze held steady, watching, waiting. “You’re stronger than you think, 0K. Now show me.”

Chapter Text

Enji stirred awake on the couch in his cavernous, sterile office. The only sound was the steady tick-tock of the wall clock, each beat slicing into the silence like a metronome for his thoughts.

It had been the same for a week now. Nights spent at the agency, mornings waking stiff-backed under fluorescent lights. He hadn’t been home in… he couldn’t even remember. Not that there was much waiting for him there anymore.

Fuyumi had moved out at some point—he wasn’t sure when. Shouto and Izuku were gone. Natsuo hadn’t lived under his roof in years.

He’d never cared much for silence before. He wasn’t blind, Enji knew his children always walked on eggshells around him. He was used to it. Even so, there was always something: Fuyumi padding between rooms, Izuku scratching his pen across notebooks late into the night. Now there was nothing. The silence had teeth, and it bit deep.

Enji had tried to think of a way to bring Shouto back. But every plan ended the same way—at Nezu. The principal’s warning had been clear. If Enji pushed, if he overstepped, the world would see everything he had buried. And Enji knew better than to gamble against the Principal. The Chimera never bluffs.

With a low grunt, he rose from the couch and crossed the vast room. It looked emptier than usual. He would never say it aloud, but the space was wasted—grand for the sake of grandeur.

Paperwork sat waiting on his desk. He ignored it for a long moment, staring at the stacks without focus. Today was only the second day of internships, but it was irrelevant. Shouto wasn’t there.

Despite everything—despite their fights, despite his “defiance”—Enji had believed Shouto would come. Who else could teach him to master fire but the Number Two hero? Who else had the strength, the experience? But the offer had been rejected, and Enji had no idea who his masterpiece had chosen instead.

"You might be a good hero. But you are no father, Endeavor! I hate you. Shouto hates you. Natsuo hates you. Touya hated you. The only one who still believes you can be better is Fuyumi, and even she is losing hope!"

Izuku’s words from the Sports Festival returned unbidden, jagged as glass. At the time, Enji had dismissed them. He’d always dismissed their words. But now, they lingered, gnawed, refused to leave.

He shook his head sharply, forcing the thought aside, and sat at the desk. He uncapped his pen with a click and bent over the forms. He didn’t have time to dwell on sentiment.

Tonight, he would patrol Hosu. Tonight, the Hero Killer would fall. Victory there would restore his reputation, give him leverage against Nezu. Once he had that, he could force Shouto’s return.

Things would go back to the way they were.

They had to.

... - .- - .. -.-. / ... .... --- -.-. -.-

Denki collapsed face-first onto the bed, groaning into the pillow like a dying appliance. Every inch of his body ached—like he’d been fried, rewired, and left out in a thunderstorm to short-circuit.

Not that he was complaining. He was loving this internship. He just also kind of wanted to be declared legally dead for the next twelve hours.

He’d lucked into interning with an American pro who was stationed in Japan for a stint. Static. Older, dreadlocks shot through with gray, and a quirk that made Denki feel both wildly jealous and incredibly inspired.

Sure, they both had electric quirks. But where Denki sputtered and sparked, Static practically conducted the world. The man bent lightning like an extension of his body. He could manipulate electromagnetism itself—fly on a disk of steel, magnetize people to walls, track radio waves humming in the air. It was insane. And Denki wanted that. Wanted to be that good.

Two days in, he already felt like his brain was overheating from how much he was learning. If he could just crack that electromagnetic flight trick by the end of the week? He’d die happy.

With a sigh, Denki rolled onto his back and fumbled for his phone. A notification blinked from the group chat he shared with Shouto, Hitoshi, and Izuku. He grinned and opened it, needing the distraction.

The first picture made him snort out a laugh—Hitoshi, bruised head to toe, giving the camera a flat deadpan that screamed I regret everything. Aizawa-sensei’s training looked brutal.

The next one was from Shouto. A thumbs-up in Present Mic’s training room, standing deadpan in front of a training dummy that was very much on fire. Classic Shouto.

Then came Izuku’s picture. Denki tapped it open—

And his face promptly went hot. Way too hot.

In the photo, Izuku sat cross-legged on the floor, nestled against a massive snow tiger like it was the fluffiest body pillow in existence. His hair was mussed, his smile soft, and he was flashing a peace sign with one hand while holding his phone with the other.

Adorable. Heart-melting. Classic Izuku.

Except for one glaring, absolutely brain-breaking detail.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or pants. Or, you know, anything safe-for-group-chat. Just a pair of pale blue boxers that clung far too well to his thighs and left nothing to Denki’s already overactive imagination.

Denki stared. His brain fizzled out like a fried circuit. His phone slid out of his hands and hit the mattress with a soft thump.

Nope. Nope nope nope. Too much. Way too much. Abort mission.

He buried his face in his pillow, but it didn’t help. Because every time he tried to forget, his treacherous brain shoved the image back at him—the curve of Izuku’s smile, the absurd casualness of him cuddling a tiger like that wasn’t already unfairly cool, and—oh god—those legs. Those unfairly strong, stupidly perfect legs.

Denki yanked his blanket over his head and let out a strangled groan that sounded suspiciously like static.

He was doomed. Absolutely, irreparably, short-circuited forever doomed.

It felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, before Denki could bring himself to grab his phone again. He forced himself not to look at the cursed picture he definitely didn’t save, and instead scrolled down the group chat.

Espurr: So… why are you having naked cuddles with a tiger?
Vulpix: I’m not naked!
Espurr: Sorry.
Espurr: Why are you having semi-naked cuddles with a tiger then?
Vulpix: (¬_¬)
Vulpix: I just finished my training. I’m warming up.
Vulpix: You wouldn’t believe how warm Aava is.
Darumaka: Okay, fine. That explains the tiger… but why are you just in your underwear???

Denki’s heart rate spiked again. He’d been wondering the exact same thing, and to his mortification, Izuku responded… with another picture.

This one was from the training room. Izuku was sitting on the floor, once again only in his boxers. The floor had a thin white sheen, like frost, and his flushed expression—red nose, ears, fingers, and toes—clearly screamed cold. In the background, barely visible, was a white blur that looked… suspiciously like a person.

Vulpix: I’m training my cold tolerance.

Denki groaned, collapsing back onto the bed. Between the frost, the tiger, and the way Izuku somehow looked both adorable and hot, his brain officially short-circuited.

Vulpix: BTW, where’s Denki?
Espurr: You probably killed him.
Vulpix: ?
Espurr: Are you this dense, or is that on purpose?
Vulpix: ??
Espurr: You’re hopeless (¬ ▵¬)

Denki’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling, when another picture pinged in.

It was another selfie of Izuku with Aava, the tiger perched over him, playfully licking his face. Izuku was laughing, one arm holding his phone, the other gently trying to push Aava’s head away. His hair was mussed, his grin wide, and his body—once again—was barely clothed, wrapped only in the ridiculous light-blue boxers.

Denki blinked. Then blinked again. Sparks practically flew off him as his brain short-circuited. Why is he like this? Why is this allowed? Why is he even real?

He buried his face into his pillow, muffling the high-pitched groan that threatened to escape. This had to be intentional. There was no other explanation.

Finally, after several minutes of internal combustion, Denki dared to peek at the chat again. Mistake. Absolute mistake.

Another picture. This one showed Izuku sprawled on the floor, Aava draped over him, licking and grooming his hair. He was laughing, flushed from the cold and exertion. The photo was shaky, but it gave just enough… exposure to fry Denki’s remaining neurons.

Denki froze, staring at the image like it was radioactive.

On a completely unrelated (and coincidental) note, the agency experienced a mysterious power surge—and subsequent blackout. Denki had absolutely no idea how it could have happened.

--. .- -.-- / .--. .- -. .. -.-.

All things considered, Izuku thought the internship was going pretty great — brutal, relentless, and exactly what he’d hoped it would be. Ivory King didn’t waste time easing anyone in. From day one the schedule read like boot camp: wake up, breakfast, training, lunch, more training, a short rest, evening patrol, sleep, and then do it all again. There was no glamour, no showy heroics — just work, repetition, and a steady, punishing push for improvement.

It paid off fast. The uncontrollable shivers that used to seize him had become something he could manage: Level 1 didn’t make him quake anymore, and he’d extended his tolerance in Level 4 to ten full minutes without losing control. Those felt like small miracles, and Izuku took them as proof that methodical conditioning could even overcome the weaknesses of his defective quirk.

The hardest part was the rest of Ivory King’s philosophy: you can’t rush recovery. Heating up too fast ruined progress, so the cooldown and warm-up routines were just as regimented as the drills. That was where Aava came in. The tiger had claimed him the minute she decided he was worth the trouble; her thick white fur held a surprising, steady warmth, and she was the gentlest, most efficient heater he’d ever known. After a session that had left him numb and exhausted, curling against her belly and letting her groom him became the reward he looked forward to.

Izuku didn’t mind the grooming at all. He liked the way Aava’s rough tongue tickled his hair, the soft rumble she made as she settled around him like a living blanket. She didn’t flinch at his cold skin; if anything, she seemed to prefer it. And Izuku found himself fiercely protective of that easy companionship — Aava was an angel in tiger form, and if anyone ever harmed her Izuku would be bringing back the Ice Age. He was sure that was a sentiment Ivory King shared.

On the third day of his internship, Izuku was sprawled half-buried in Aava’s fur, the snow tiger’s deep purr rattling his ribs while her tongue rasped insistently over his curls. She seemed determined to wrestle them into some kind of order, though Izuku knew from years of experience that it was a losing battle.

That was the sight Ivory King walked in on. He paused just inside the doorway, spear propped against his shoulder, helmet tilting as though he were appraising a painting. Even through the metal mask, Izuku could sense the dry amusement.

“You’d think she’d have learned to identify a lost cause,” the hero remarked. “But Aava is the most stubborn tiger I’ve ever met.”

Izuku shifted just enough to squint at him, an eyebrow arched. “How many tigers do you know again?”

“Irrelevant,” Ivory King dismissed with a wave of his gauntleted hand. “And not why I came here.”

Izuku made an attempt to sit up, only for Aava to rumble warningly and press one massive paw into his chest, pinning him down with effortless weight. Izuku sighed and gave up, sinking back into her warmth. “Guess I’m trapped.”

That earned him a low chuckle. “So long as you can hear me, that’s what matters.” The humor in his voice faded, replaced by a crisp seriousness that pulled Izuku’s attention sharp.

“I assume you know why I’ve been stationed in Hosu.”

Izuku’s easy smile slipped into something harder, his voice steady when he answered, “The Hero Killer. Stain.”

“Correct.” Ivory King’s tone was iron. “I’m perhaps the worst opponent he could face, and he knows it. We’ve been playing this game for months—he strikes, I pursue, and each time he vanishes before I can close my grip. But that ends tonight.”

Izuku blinked. “Tonight?” He tilted his head, heart already quickening. “How?”

“I’ve got a lead,” Ivory King said simply. “Strong enough to trust. I believe I know who he’s targeting and where. If I’m right, then this time we’ll be there first.”

He let the words hang, heavy with intent, while Aava gave Izuku one final swipe of her tongue as if punctuating the moment.

Izuku’s stomach did a nervous flip. “What will I be doing?” he asked, voice thinner than he wanted.

Ivory King folded the question into a crisp plan. “If everything goes to plan, your job is simple: get the target away from danger while I handle Stain. I don’t intend for you to fight him. But we prepare for the worst.” He produced a sheet of paper—Izuku didn’t see where it came from and didn’t ask. “This grants you formal permission to use your quirk without restriction until the end of our next patrol. I trust you understand the responsibility that comes with that.”

Aava shifted and allowed Izuku to reach the paper. His hand trembled only a little as he read the line, then he took a breath and signed. The sound of the pen on paper felt louder than anything else in the room.

“I understand, sir. I won’t misuse this privilege,” Izuku said, every word steady.

Ivory King inclined his head once. “Good. Now—your teacher also mentioned the… let’s call him the young crusader.”

Izuku’s brow tightened. “You mean Iida?”

“I don’t begrudge his feelings,” Ivory King said. “But he’s biting off more than he can chew. If he gets involved, your first priority is to extract him—by whatever means necessary. Even if that means knocking him out to get him to safety.”

Izuku swallowed. “He might hate me afterward, but at least he’ll be alive.”

“Good.” Ivory King’s voice sharpened into orders. “Listen and memorize. Two comms channels. Channel One is my line—any incident, you report there. Tap twice and it sends your location. Channel Two is for emergency responders—tap thrice if you can’t speak, and your location will be broadcast. Hand signals inside line of sight: fist up—engage the perimeter; two fingers down—retreat and regroup; open hand—fall back. If I radio ‘Break’, freeze and await a new order. No exceptions.”

“Understood, sir,” Izuku answered, committing each phrase to memory.

“One more thing,” Ivory King added. “Aava is your partner tonight. You can ride her without falling, yes?”

Izuku blinked, now finally understanding why Ivory King had also given him riding lessons. “Yes. I can.”

“Good. Finish warming up, then suit up. We leave thirty minutes after dinner. Eat light. Don’t be late.” With those last instructions, he left the room.

Left alone with Aava, Izuku let the enormity of the night settle on his shoulders—but it steadied him rather than crushing him. He settled into the mat and ran through the breathing drill Ivory King had drilled into him: inhale four, hold four, exhale six. The rhythm anchored him; the cold gnawed at him but he let it become a metronome rather than panic.

For some reason, Izuku had the feelings things wouldn’t go as planned, but he was ready for whatever would come.