Chapter 1: Izuku Midoriya: Origin
Chapter Text
The words cut deeper than any physical blow ever could. “If you’re that desperate to be a hero, there’s a quick way to do it.” Katsuki Bakugo had sneered, a twisting grin tugging at his lips. “Just take a swan dive off the roof and hope you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Izuku Midoriya behind, shivering, humiliated and utterly alone.
His beloved notebook, his life’s work of analyzing heroes, had been hurled out of the window like trash. Soaked and burnt, as it now lays abandoned in a fountain outside. But, the words struck harder than the sting of seeing his notebook, as Bakugo’s mocking suggestions rang in his ears.
Dive off the roof….
Izuku stood frozen, quivering. He could say nothing in the moment, nothing that would stop the onslaught of ridicule. Bakugo was blessed with raw, unstoppable power, while Izuku, quirkless and invisible to the world, had nothing but his notes. His dreams were confined to ink and paper, now smeared.
“I should’ve said something…..” Izuku muttered, staring at the koi swimming beneath his soggy notebook. “If I jumped, it would’ve been because of you….idiot.”
Still, he fished the notebook from the water, clutching it tightly. This ruined piece of paper was all he had to show for years of hard work and dedication. Everything that Bakugo and the others mocked were in this same notebook, his devotion to study every hero. The analysis, the strategies, the admiration. It was all he had……wasn’t it?
Izuku sighed. The koi darted away as he left the fountain behind, barely looking where he was going.
()()()
Downtown in the same city, a villain ran through the city with stolen money, feeling confident that no hero’s would stop him after the chaos caused by Mount Lady earlier. People noticed, but no one acted. Instead, they stood by, expecting a hero to come save the day like always.
However, just when it seemed like no one would intervene, the strongest hero, All Might, appeared with his booming voice, proudly declaring, “Because I am here!” His presence along made the villain panic.
Meanwhile, young Izuku Midoriya walked home, deep in thought. Despite being quirkless, he still had hope of becoming a hero. UA now accepted students without powers, and he held on to the belief that passion and intelligence would be enough to fulfill his dreams, just like his idol, All Might.
Full of hope, Midoriya began to mimic his hero, walking with confidence and raising his fist to the sky. But his moment of excitement was shattered when a terrifying villain made of sludge appeared from behind.
Panicked, Midoriya tried to escape, but the villain quickly captured him, smothering him with sludge, making it impossible to breathe or cry out for help. The villain taunted him. “You’ll make a perfect skin suit for me to hide in, kid.”
Midoriya struggled but was powerless, thinking his dreams of becoming a hero were slipping away, as his consciousness began to fade. “Thanks for the help. You’re a real hero to me, kid.” The villain taunted, wearing Midoriya out.
Suddenly, a sewage top was thrown at the Villain. “Have no fear, you’re safe.” The pro hero All Might spoke, as he took out the villain, letting young Midoriya get a small breath in, suspended in midair, saved by none other than All Might himself.
The number one hero had defeated the villain in an instant and was now standing before Midoriya with a reassuring smiled.
Though, as time ticked by, All Might gently slapped Midoriya’s face in order to wake him up, which he did. Overwhelmed with awe, Midoriya awoke, and tried to speak.
“Well, looks like you’re moving around all right.” All Might spoke, now gazing at the dazed Midoriya.
Midoriya snapped out of it, trying to find his notebook, but as he did, he found out that All Might had already signed his notebook.
All Might later apologized for the danger, but Midoriya, in his excitement, could only thank him repeatedly. All Might smiled, holding up the villain, now trapped in a bottle, and prepared to take him to the police. “Thank you! I’ve captured the evil-doer!”
But Midoriya wasn’t ready to let his hero go without asking something important. “Now stand back. I’m taking off.” The hero announced, before he leapt into for air.
Midoriya, desperate for answers, grabbed onto his leg. Startled, All Might tried to shake off Midoriya. “Let go! I love my fans, but this is too much!” Midoriya shook his head. “No way! We’re flying. If I let go now, I’ll die!”
Reluctantly, All Might quickly realized the boy would fall to his death, so he carried Midoriya with him, making a quick landing on a roof top.
All Might, on a time crunch scolded Midoriya and began to leave. Midoriya tried to stop him, as he finally popped his question that had been weighing on him his whole life.
“Is it possible to become a hero, even if I don’t have a quirk?”
The question stopped All Might in his tracks. But before he could answer, his body suddenly engulfed in smoke, revealing his deflated, weakened form. Shocked, Midoriya screamed in disbelief. The skinny figure before him was nothing like the mighty hero he admired.
“What happened, you’re deflated! You’re not All Might!” Young Midoriya spoke with disbelief, as he began to panic.
“I am All Mi—-.” The man spoke, coughing up blood. Midoriya began to freak out more, not believing the man who now claimed was his one and only hero. Though, as he saw Midoriya’s shock, All Might sat down and began to explain the truth. His powerful form was the result of years of injury, and now he could only maintain it for a short time.
“Some villains just can’t be beaten without powers. So, can you be a hero? Not without a quirk.”
All Mights response to Midoriya’s question was devastating. He told him that becoming a hero without a quirk was unrealistic, crushing Midoriya’s hopes completely. The boys dreams of heroism was shattered. As he stood on the rooftop, All Might’s words echoed in his mind.
So can you be a hero? Not without a quirk
There was no future for him as a hero. Everything he worked for, all his dreams, seemed pointless now.
Feeling utterly hopeless, Midoriya wandered aimlessly, eventually finding himself on the rooftop of his middle school. Staring down from the edge, he thought about how everything had fallen apart. In a moment of despair, he wished for a powerful quirk in his next life and prepared to jump, ready to end it all.
But just as he began to fall, he felt two strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back from the ledge. Someone had saved him, but why?
Chapter 2: The fall of hope
Summary:
Izuku is learning the hard way, just how cruel the world is
Chapter Text
Midoriya stood motionless, staring at the ground beneath his feet. His mind was a whirlpool of confusion, drowning in an empty gaze while silent tears slipped from his eyes. The two strong arms around his waist held him firmly, preventing any further desperate attempts. Izuku didn’t resist; instead, he let his body sag in the strangers grasp, too broken to fight back. When the grip loosened, Midoriya felt his feet finally hit the ground.
Izuku expected the usually barrage, mockery, judgement and harsh words. But this time, something was different. The boy who had saved him, someone Midoriya didn’t know, stepped around to face him, his narrowed eyes full of something other than disappointment.
“Are……you okay?” The boys voice was calm, deep, and controlled, almost soothing. He wasn’t angry at Midoriya, rather, he was curious, and even surprised.
Midoriya remained silent, his gaze fixated on his red shoes. He couldn’t bring himself to answer, not when everything felt so helpless. But this stranger wasn’t impatient. Instead, he reached out and gently took Midoriya’s wrist, tugging him along. No force, just determination to help a helpless boy.
The two wandered across the roof in silence, until they reached a door. The boy, todoroki, grumbled under his breath as the door was locked, annoyed by the inefficiency. Undeterred, the boy froze the door solid. Izuku slowly gazed up to watch the boy kick down the door, watching it fall off the broken hinges.
“Ice.” Izuku mumbled, as the boy began to gently tug Izuku through the school. The sky outside began to turn grey, as small droplets of water began to fall.
The boy walked through the school. “Why were you up there?” Todoroki asked, his tone gentle, but insistent.
Izuku was gonna answer, before he saw blood dripping down the boys arm. “You’re hurt.” Midoriya’s voice was barely a whisper. It was the first thing he had said to the boy. He finally let go of todoroki but hesitated, not wanting the boy to leave just yet.
“This is……nothing.” The boy spoke, clenching his arm, as more blood dripped to the floor. Izuku huffed, before opening his bag, brining out alcohol and bandages. He had these in his bag due to being bullied, and always getting injured by said bullies.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Todoroki spoke, letting Midoriya work on his arm.
For a moment, the only sound was the small grunts of the boy. Then, finally, Midoriya stopped, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the wall.
“I realized it was all a lie.” He muttered, his voice hollow. “Everything I believed in…….it was all fake. The person I admired most told me I could never be a hero without a quirk. And now……I don’t know who I am anymore.” Izuku sank to the floor, his cheek stained with tears, as his words spilled out like a flood of bitterness and confusion. “I’ve spent my whole life thinking quirkless people could be great. But maybe that was stupid. Maybe that’s just not true.”
Todoroki didn’t react with judgment or pity. Instead, he listened quietly, letting Midoriya speak. The boy slowly brought his hand to Midoriya’s cheek, freezing the tears, before wiping them away.
The freckled boy flinched, before he apologized for his rambling. Todoroki simply shook his head. “No…..I understand. Your tears shouldn’t be for those who hurt you, I should have asked first before freezing them.”
Izuku blinked, before finishing up his bandaging. A small tint of pink reached his cheeks, not expecting someone so gentle. “Heroes aren’t perfect. They can take their power for granted…..and it hurts people.” His voice darkened as he brought his hand to the scar on his face. “I wish I didn’t have a quirk.”
Midoriya looked up, eyes widen in sympathy. He shuffled closer, making sure the bandaging and ointment, were in place. There was something raw and genuine in todoroki’s words, something Midoriya had never felt from anyone else before. He wasn’t being patronized or pitied. He was finally being heard by someone who understands his pain, someone who can see what he sees, someone he can count on.
“I believe……if you can get past this, you can be a hero, better than all the other fakes. A genuine hero who actually cares.” Midoriya whispered softly as he fiddled his fingers, his voice filled with conviction.
Todoroki gazed at Izuku, surprised by the warmth in the quirkless boys voice. Midoriya’s sincerity was undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, Todoroki felt seen, not as a son of the number two hero, but as someone who could be more than the shadow of his father. Todoroki felt a tingle of heat reach his cheeks, before it vanished, letting his face turn blank once more.
“I think, you can be a hero without a quirk, don’t let others bring you down.” Todoroki spoke.
Midoriya, on the other hand, found himself inspired by this quiet boy who had saved him. His mind, usually obsessed with hero analysis, was now filled with something new: the possibility of making a better impact. Not just through observation or admiration, but through action.
The freckled boy found himself gazing at the taller boy, a strange spark igniting in his chest. His heart beat was a bit irregular, as the tint in his cheeks never went away. He had been saved today, but not by a hero, but by someone real, someone who understands pain like he did.
However, something reached his thoughts. “Since I answered your question, I want you to answer mine.” Izuku spoke, now getting a small reaction from the boy, who now gazed at Izuku, nodding his head.
“Who hurt you? The burn on your arm was extremely damaged, it even caused you to bleed.” Izuku spoke, seeing the boy flinch. Izuku immediately back tracked. “I-if you don’t wanna answer that’s fine, I just—.” Izuku was cut off, but he knew it wasn’t intentional.
“My father did it, it was just a bad argument.” The boy spoke, clenching his now bandaged arm. The freckled boy felt his heart beat faster in his ears. The words were stuck in his throat as he had to swallow his anger, not wanting the boy to feel dedicated to tell more.
“T-then, I’ll be your hero.” Izuku mumbled, catching the boy off guard. Izuku didn’t know what he was thinking, to tell someone he can be their hero when he can’t even be one himself was insane, but he’s willing to try, even for a bit.
The boy however, tilted his head, before nodding. “Go ahead.” The boy spoke, now catching Izuku off guard. He wasn’t expecting such a response, but he soon took it to heart, willing to do whatever it takes.
()()()
Though as time ticked by, the day went on, and the two had to part way. Midoriya wrapped his arms around todoroki in a tight, unexpected hug. “Thank you…….for everything.” He whispered, his voice trembling with a new kind of determination. Todoroki, startled, hesitated before resting a hand on Midoriya’s back, unsure how to respond.
They parted awkwardly, but something had shifted between them. There was a new bond, fragile yet profound, born out of shared pain and unspoken understanding.
Though as Midoriya walked home, his mind finally kicked into gear. “I forgot to ask his name!” The freckled boy yelped, as he face palmed. Of all things to do, the one thing you should do is introduce yourself. How could he forget a crucial part. Izuku groaned.
Back home, Midoriya lay awake in bed. His mind raced with thoughts, not of All Might or becoming a hero, but something darker began to fester in his heart. He would make an impact, but not as a hero, that dream had left his mind, the moment he tried to commit suicide. He would change the world, and if that meant bringing down this who lie to him, who had hurt those he cared about, then so be it.
A new purpose bloomed in his heart as he began to replay what happened today. He would save the pretty boy, he was gonna be his hero, but he needed to do research. He needs to save them both from this broken world.
Days go by as school was on break for the semester, Midoriya found himself with too much time and too little to distract him. While most of his classmates spent their days training their quirks like good students, hoping to get into UA, Midoriya remained locked in his room. His computer became his window to the world, where he dug through every hero related forum he could find.
His notebooks, once filled with hero trivia and admiration, had transformed. They were no longer the innocent scribbling of a fanboy. Now, they were filled with cold, strategic notes on heroes weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and flaws. These notes were written with his own research, as he explored the web deeply in order to find such things. Izuku wanted to feel any kind of power he had over hero’s, even if it’s slightly.
His sudden routine began to change. During the day, he stayed home, pretending everything’s was normal, acting like the innocent boy they all wished him to be. But at night, once the city was asleep, Midoriya transformed. He swapped his innocent image for something darker.
Dressed in black, he slipped into the cities underbelly. It was reckless for a teen to be out this late, he shouldn’t be roaming these parts, but the city did look pretty in the darkness. It was like, the moment he stepped out, he felt free, no longer shackled by the pressure of being societal expectations.
Izuku laid on his back on a rooftop, gazing at the moon as his notebook laid next to him. His notebook was now filled with theories about the boy that had saved him. Child abuse was written in bold as he did extensive research. He was able to figure out the name of his savior and that was SHOTO TODOROKI, a beautiful name for a pretty boy.
Izuku had clenched his notebook to his chest, now wanting to know more about the boy who saved him, but before he could, a small meow was heard next to him.
The freckled boy blinked, as he turned his head to the left, gazing at a cat with grey fur, and purple stripes. Its eyes were golden, as it had a big smile on its face. This didn’t scare Izuku as he reached out slowly, placing his hand in front of the cat, just waiting.
The cat purred as it allowed Izuku to pet it. Izuku chuckled as he scooped the cat into his lap, petting it more. “You’re a unique one aren’t you?” The freckled boy spoke, as the cat’s smile widened.
Izuku then opened his notebook, and began to scribble down the cat’s attributes. The cat tilted its head in curiosity, as it watched Izuku write down everything he saw with the cat. Though, one thing was for certain, Izuku wanted to keep the cat. “I wanna keep you, I always did want a pet, but I was too obsessed with All Might. I wonder if you wanna stay with me.”
The cat meowed, as if agreeing with Izuku. Izuku beamed, as he hugged the furry beast. “You’ll be my partner in crime, my partner to change the world, to make an impact.” The freckled boy spoke, as he lifted the cat into the air. The smile on the cat’s face, grew even wider, as if it was crazed.
Izuku didn’t mind it, as he began to think of names for the cat. “What kind of name would fit you?” The boy mumbled as he began to mumbled out names.
The cat wiggled out the freckled boys grasp as it evaporated, beginning to write its name in the air. Izuku was stunned as he wrote down the abilities of the cat, as well as the name. It wasn’t unheard of to see animals develop quirks, but it was still uncommon, quite rare, so to see it happen in front of him brought sparks of awe to the boys eyes.
“Chessur? Not native to Japan, very unique in a way.” Izuku mumbled, before sitting up. He let his mind wonder for far too long, now it was time to go home.
()()()
On one particularly cool night, Midoriya sat on a rooftop, his notebook in hand. He casually petted the cat that was now named Chessur, watching the night sky. “Hero’s really are something huh Chessur.” The freckled boy spoke, as he opened his notebook. He now had the name of Shoto’s father, who he now theorized abused the poor boy.
Izuku glared at the notebook, as he held the cat in his arms, now jumping from the rooftop he had sat upon. He has gotten used to jumping off rooftops even since his attempt, but he later landed in an alleyway.
Chessur wiggled out Izuku’s grasp, before sitting on his shoulder.
The freckled boy nuzzled the cat, before leaning against the brick wall. The words bolded in his notebook were a huge hint to how he was feeling. “Liar,” was written in bold as well as “you never saved me.”
Izuku flipped through his notes, stopping on a page named ENDEAVOR , glaring at the rough sketch he’d drawn. His pen pressed hard against the paper as he repeatedly stabbed at the page, feeling enraged with the number two hero.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence. “Quite the resentment you have there.”
Startled, Midoriya jumped, looking back to see a figure standing over him. A middle aged man of moderate height and a slight build. The man had short grey hair, as well as a small mustache with a goatee.
Izuku glared, feeling Chessur hiss and yowl lowly. The man laughed as he took a puff of his cigarette. “Now now, I’m not gonna hurt cha’, rather I have a proposal for you.”
The freckled boy never let his guard. “What is it? You don’t even know me?”
The middle aged man smirked. “Oh, I know quite about you Izuku Midoriya, but I didn’t come here to patronize you, I came here to recruit you.” The man spoke, catching Izuku off guard with not just his name, but a recruitment.
The man smirked more. “Shocked? Good, we need someone like you on the team, someone dedicated, someone…….who’s darker than most.” The freckled boy continued to glare, but understood in a sense. “And you think I fit that category?” He spoke, not feeling too sure about the man.
Though as Izuku watched the man shrug, it was clear to him that he wasn’t gonna let up on his decision. “Tell you what, I’ll let you think about it for a few days, and we’ll meet back here.” The man spoke, before turning, taking his leave.
Izuku stood there motionless, as he began to take in the information spoken to him. “W-what was that about?” He spoke, gently scratching Chessur for reassurance. The cat purred, meowing as he nuzzled Izuku.
But, as the days turn to nights, Midoriya came to the alleyway to meet the man, who was now named Giran, wanting to know more about his recruitment, which he got an answer too.
A new group called the League of villains, wished to make an impact by killing All Might, the one who diminished his dreams to become a hero. Though, as he heard more about it, there was still a small strand of hope to be a hero. Of course he knew there was no hope for him, he could still try right?
Izuku sighed as he wrote in his notebook, gazing over a page designated for Shoto. A small smile spread across his lips, as he read the page, one about his quirk and the other about what had happened. The words I’LL BE YOUR HERO was written in bold.
The freckled boy giggled as he hugged his notebook. He’ll do anything for this boy, he already made the promise to be his hero, and he’ll look up to it.
The cool night air clung to his skin as he crossed through the narrow alleyway, lost in thought. His mind raced with everything was starting to learn about hero’s. But just as he turned a corner, Midoriya felt a presence, a shadow flickering in his peripheral vision.
Before he could react, a rough hand grabbed his shoulder, yanking him backwards. Midoriya stumbled, his heart racing as two thugs loomed in front of him. They were scruffy, their clothes tattered and their eyes gleaming with predatory malice.
“Whatcha got there kid?” One of them sneered, his voice dripping in mockery. He was tall, with messy hair and a jagged scar across his cheek. “Looks like something important.”
The second thug, a stockier man with tattooed arms, circled Midoriya, cutting off his escape. “Yeah, hand it over. We don’t got all night.” He added, cracking his knuckles.
Midoriya’s eyes darted between them, his pulse quickening. They didn’t know what they were truly after, but they wouldn’t just take it and walk away. He knew these types; they wanted to see him squirm, to make him feel powerless. Yet, old feelings of helplessness began to bubble up inside him, but something else simmered just beneath the surface: ANGER
They were nothing. Just more trash.
He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of his choices in front of him. He wasn’t gonna be that weak quirkless kid anymore, who let people push him around.
So, with quick succession, Midoriya gazed around, grabbing a jagged broken bottle, now placing it in front of him.
The thug with the scar pulled out a knife. “I said hand it over.”
For a moment, Midoriya froze, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of his past, the years spent being bullied, mocked, and cast aside. But those days were over. He wasn’t going to be weak anymore.
Without warning, he lashed out, slashing the broken bottle at the thug with the scar. The thug’s eyes widened and the bottle slashed his arm, making a really bad cut, causing it to bleed.
The second thug snarled and lunged at Midoriya from behind, reaching for his arm. Though before he could do so, Chessur came from inside Midoriya’s hoodie, slashing his claws at the thug, before hissing.
The thug stumbled back, crashing into a nearby dumpster with a metallic clatter.
The first thug, regaining his breath, growled in frustration and wiped the blood away from his arm. “You little brat!” He spat, his voice filled with venom. He charged at Midoriya, knife raised, aiming for his face.
Midoriya froze once more as the thug sliced Midoriya with the knife. The freckled boy hissed in pain as he backed up, slowly bringing one hand to his neck. The slash from the knife had dug into part of the top of his shoulder, from the back of the neck, to his cheek. It was a long scar, but once Midoriya saw the blood, his mind blanked.
It only took a couple of minutes, before Midoriya came too, panting, as his hands were now covered in blood. What he didn’t realize was that he was holding the thugs knife.
Chessur purred, licking the blood from Midoriya’s check, snapping the boy out of his blank thoughts. Midoriya blinked, before gazing down at the now dead thugs, not feeling any regret.
“Wow, never knew you had it in ya.” A voice from behind Midoriya startled him, baring the knife at the assailant, but soon froze as he noticed it was Giran, gazing at him with a smirk
“Honestly, I never knew a kid like you could do this, quite impressed, but sloppy work.” Giran spoke, puffing out a smog of smoke.
Midoriya glared, but didn’t say a word. He blacked out, he didn’t know what happened, first he was fighting the thugs, and the next he snapped, and woke back up to seeing a fight he had won. A fight he’s never won before, it almost made him feel powerful, to beat someone who thinks he was helpless.
The freckled boy slowly began to giggle, it was soft and quiet, but the it turned psychotic, and even rang through the alley, bouncing off the brick walls, before it came to an end.
“I’d hate to ruin your victory high but I’d like to know your answer to the proposal.” Giran spoke, gazing at the dead thugs.
Midoriya stopped laughing, before tilting his head. He had totally forgot about the proposal, yet as he stood there, he already knew his answer from the start. No way he’d be a hero with murder on his record…..plus, the high from it really got him going.
“I’ll join the league of villains.” Midoriya spoke, wiping the blood from his face, before wincing, feeling the cuts and bruises from the fight from earlier.
Giran smirked. “You’ll make a fine addition to the team. Now come along, you’ll have to meet your new boss.”
()()()
Midoriya had spaced out during there walk, not taking in anything around him, which was unlike him. It was like his brain had switched off, only to blink every few minutes.
Chessur was able to pick up on Midoriya’s shift of demeanor, and meowed to get his reaction, which worked, but only for a second, as his mind went back to being blank.
Giran didn’t care as much as long as he got paid, but the shift did take him by surprise. He knew it was the boys first kill, which was why he was acting this way. It must be nerve racking, but Giran knew he’d get over it.
The walk only lasted for a few more minutes before Giran came to a stop. Midoriya blinked, now taking back control over his foggy mind.
Giran led the freckled boy inside a run down building, but upon further inspection, on the inside there was a nice looking bar, looking brand new, as the inside held a roomy feeling to it. Midoriya gazed around, still holding his notebook he forgot about, with child like awe.
“Giran, it’s a pleasure to welcome you so early. We weren’t expecting guests.” A deep voice spoke, snapping Midoriya out his astonishment.
The freckled boy felt a bit out of place, before gazing at his feet nervously.
Giran smirked. “That is true, but I found it in myself to start looking early. I even found you your first recruit.” Giran pushed Midoriya towards the warp looking man?…..as he wore a suit.
The warp gate narrowed his eyes, snuffing Midoriya out, seeing if he was fit for the cause. Which in all honesty, upon looking at him, he doesn’t fit whatever they’re trying to prove, but he could learn, he’ll try his best. After all…….he had someone to save, someone to care about, someone who connects with him.
“Hey kid, you’re spacing out again, pull it together, you’ll waste me some good money.” Giran spoke, fixing his glasses.
Midoriya flinched before standing up straight. “I-I apologize! I-I’m Izuku Midoriya, and I wish to join the league of villains.” The boy bowed, being respectful to those who were in deed stronger than him
The warp gate nodded his head. “A respectful kid, but I’m not the one who you should be introducing yourself too, rather, it be the leader himself.” The warp gate pointed to a man, who looked not much older than Midoriya himself, sitting at the bar, with a game boy in hand.
Midoriya blinked as he felt Chessur poke his head from his hoodie, now shuffling around until he was on the boys shoulder, a man eating grin widening further as the cat gazed around, making sure to protect its owner.
The freckled boy smiled, before bowing to the man at the stool. “I-it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Izuku Midoriya.” The boy spoke, neavousness racking his bones, as sweat began to bead around his forehead. He didn’t wish to be casted aside, not again, he wanted to be heard, he wanted to know if he was good enough.
The leader of the league of villains stopped play his game boy, and placed it down. “Are you cut out for this kind of work? A fan boy like yourself doesn’t seem fit to stomach this.” The lanky man spoke, earning a glare from Midoriya.
“I can train to stomach this kind of work. I want!…….I-I…….I wanna be someone’s hero.” Midoriya mumbled, clenching his notebook to his chest.
The leader scoffed, but he was quite intrigued. Whatever this boy had to offer, it better be greater than his own. “Fine, you can join, but I have a job for you to do. I want something new, I want hero’s to feel like there are eyes watching every corner they turn…….You’ll be an assassin.”
Midoriya stood there shocked, completely baffled. He wasn’t expecting his new leader to just flat out tell him he was to be an assassin. Assassins in Japan were never heard of…….but it did sound fun.
The freckled boys heart skipped a beat with excitement, wanting know more, wanting to paint his own picture.
The boy spaced out for a bit, before the leader began to speak once more. “I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Tomura Shigaraki, and that warp gate is Kurogiri. You’ll be working with us, so get used to it.”
Chapter 3: Into the shadows
Summary:
Izuku’s changing, what will become of him
Notes:
I can not believe that my chapter 2 was also my chapter 3, thats tragic, but I will update it and fix it.
Chapter Text
The smell of cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air as Midoriya walked through the narrow, dimly lit corridor. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. He had been summoned here by Tomura, a man who seemed to embody fear itself. The league of villains had become his new world, but Midoriya wasn’t naive enough to think he was safe within it.
Tomura’s icy, dead eyed stare had unnerved him from the moment they met, and now, standing in his presence again, Midoriya felt the familiar twinge of fear gnawing at the pit of his stomach.
He could feel Tomura’s gaze, like a predator assessing its prey. “You’re late.” Tomura’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.
Midoriya swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. “I’m sorry. I was—.”
“Spare me the excuses.” Tomura’s hand twitched towards his face, fingers brushing against the patchwork of scars that marred his skin. “We don’t have time for that. You’re not here to make friends or waste my time, Deku. You’re here to work.”
The way Tomura said that worthless name, DEKU, still grated on Midoriya’s nerves, thought he kept it buried under a mask of calm. Tomura took a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate. Midoriya felt his muscles tense.
“You’ve been here for a good few days, I gave you a task, didn’t I?” Tomura continued, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You’re going to infiltrate UA High for us, and you’re going to do it without attracting any attention. I heard you’re already enrolled, so it won’t be hard.”
Midoriya clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He had passed the UA written test fair and square, scoring high enough to secure a spot in class 1-C, a support course class, for those who lost their chance to be hero’s. Midoriya had decided to open his horizon a bit and delve deep into exercise science.
It was his dream to be there once, but now it was just another part of the plan. His path had changed the day he crossed into Tomura’s world.
Midoriya sighed. “School starts in two weeks, I won’t forget my task. Plus, I’m learning what I need to learn from you, I’m just waiting on you to assign me a teacher.”
Tomura scoffed, stepping back slightly. He folded his arms, his lips curling into a smile that sent a shiver down Midoriya’s spine. “Don’t get smart with me DEKU, I don’t care about all the others you’ll face during your time there. There’s someone specific I want you to keep an eye on.”
Midoriya blinked, his mind racing. Someone specific?
“Todoroki Shoto.” Tomura continued, his tone almost lazy now, as if he were discussing the weather. “I’ve read that little notebook of yours, that boy only saved you once and you’re totally obsessed, a true villain indeed. Get close to him, but don’t blow your cover. We need you inside for the long haul.”
The name send a jolt of electricity through Midoriya. TODOROKI SHOTO. The boy who had saved him that day, the boy who had burned himself into Midoriya’s mind. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered the ice, swirling around todoroki, the quiet intensity in his mismatch eyes.
“Why do you need him? He’s trying to be a hero, what makes you think I can turn him?” Midoriya spoke, now feeling a bit hesitant about the ordeal.
Tomura scoffed. “I’ll teach you manipulation, plus I did my own research. That boy isn’t what it seems, I won’t spoil the fun, but it won’t take that long. Plus, you start in two weeks, you better be prepared, you’ll be in a school full of lively hero’s.”
Midoriya nodded, his throat tight. He forced himself to leave the room without looking back, feeling Tomura’s presence looming behind him like a shadow. He hasn’t expected this mission to involve todoroki, not like this. But now, it felt personal in a way that unsettled him.
***
The days passed in a blur as it was now the first day. The excitement Midoriya was feeling was morphing into anxiety. He didn’t know if he could pull this off, as he was no longer the naive young man he was. Now he was a killer, a killer in the shadows at that.
Midoriya clenched his notebook, breathing heavily as he tried to calm his breathing. “Please……let this be okay.”
Midoriya made his way from room, wearing his brand new uniform, as it was shown to be a grey jacket and red tie, tied in a cute way since he didn’t know how to tie a tie.
The freckled boy said goodbye to his mom, pecking her cheek as he left in a hurry, not wanting to be late for his first day.
Though, it only took a few minutes before he made it to UA High.
The sun had barely risen over the horizon, when Midoriya stepped into Class 1-C for the first time. His palms were sweaty as he clutched the straps of his bag, his green eyes darting around the room as students shuffled to their seats. This was the day everything truly began, not as the wide eyed boy who dreamed of becoming a hero, but as someone who straddled the line between light and dark, between hero and assassin.
His heart pounded in his chest, through it wasn’t fear that gripped him. It was anticipation. He had passed the written exam with ease, securing his place here in Class 1-C, where the focus was on exercise science. While his classmates sought to master the mechanics of hero work, Midoriya had a different mission.
He was a spy, planted by the league of villains, and Tomura’s cold voice still echoed in his mind.
Get close to Todoroki. Make him trust you.
Midoriya scanned the room, gazing over his classmates. He forced himself to focus on his surroundings, pushing down the restless energy buzzing inside him. He had to blend in, be just another student. The sharp contrast between this life and his meetings with Tomura send a chill down his spine, but he couldn’t afford distractions now.
The door slid open, and the energetic voice of their homeroom teacher filled the air.
“Good morning, class!” Yamada Hizashi, better known President Mic, strolled I , his voice booming. His signature blonde hair was spiked up to the sky, as his usual sunglasses reflected the light. “I hope you’re all ready to crank it up to eleven today!”
Presidents Mic’s enthusiasm was infectious, and a few students laughed or cheered in response. Midoriya managed a small smile, trying to relax. If anything, having a pro hero as his homeroom teacher added an extra layer of tension, but it also helped him feel less out of place.
“Alright, alright, settle down!” President Mic grinned, crossing his arms. “This semesters going to be intense! You all wanna get into the hero course, so you better bring your A game! So buckle up, kids, cause we’re going full throttle from day one!”
Midoriya say quietly, absorbing every word, though his thoughts kept drifting. He found himself flipping open his notebook, scribbling down thoughts and facts about Todoroki. It was a habit now, one that had taken root in his mind since their last encounter.
Shoto Todoroki: Hald cold, Half hot quirk. Quiet, distant. He’s powerful but doesn’t flaunt it. Seems to hold back. Doesn’t trust people easily. Saved me without hesitation. Why?
It was only the beginning of his analysis. He wanted, NEEDED, to understand everything about Todoroki. His power, his mindset, his past. Midoriya’s pen scratched the page with fevered intensity, his thoughts spinning faster than he could write them down.
“Midoriya!” President Mic’s voice snapped him back to the present.
Midoriya flinched, slammed his notebook shut, looking up to see the entire class staring at him. His heart skipped a beat.
“Glad to see you’re already taking notes, but let’s save that for later!” President Mic chuckled, waving him off. “We’ve got introductions to make first.”
Midoriya nodded quickly, tucking his notebook back into his bag. His face flushed with embarrassment, but no one seemed too concerned. The rest of class continued their introductions, and Midoriya felt a slight wave of relief wash over him.
Two weeks passed in a blur. Every day was filled with a strange duality for Midoriya. During the day, he was as a diligent student in Class 1-C, being the only student to study exercise science, training his body, and learning about the mechanics of hero work. But at night, his thoughts were consumed by Tomura’s mission, and more importantly, by Todoroki.
He hadn’t seen Todoroki again since their last encounter, and the absence only deepened Midoriya’s obsession. He spent hours pouring over his notebook, writing down everything he knew.
He had to find him again. He had to understand. The subtle thrill of their interaction still lingered, and the memory of Todoroki’s intense gaze haunted him.
However, it wasn’t until one afternoon, a few weeks after starting at UA, that Midoriya finally saw him again.
Midoriya was walking through the courtyard when his eyes caught a flash of red and white in the distance. His breath caught in his throat. Todoroki.
There he was, standing alone near the P.E Grounds, his mismatched eyes gazing off into the distance as if he were lost in thought. The world around him seemed to fade into the background, and Midoriya’s heart raced. He felt a compulsion to approach, he needed to speak to him, to understand the pull Todoroki had on him.
With every step he took, Midoriya’s pulse quickened. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a confusing mix of curiosity and something deeper, something he didn’t yet have the words to name.
Todoroki turned slowly, his eyes locking onto Midoriya’s. For a moment, there was a brief flicker of something in his gaze, recognition? Interest? Midoriya couldn’t tell, but he felt the weight of that stare, the intensity behind those mismatched eyes.
“Midoriya.” Todoroki said softly, his voice calm and measured. “I remember you.”
The words sent a shiver down Midoriya’s spine.
How did he know his name?
Midoriya was happy to know Todoroki remembered him, even after all this time. There was something almost thrilling about that. Midoriya spent so much time thinking about Todoroki, but to know that Todoroki had thought about him too, it stirred something inside him.
“You saved me.” Midoriya blurted out, unable to stop himself. “Back then, you saved me.”
Todoroki’s expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something unreadable. “It wasn’t a big deal.” He replied quietly. “You were in trouble. I did what anyone would’ve done.”
Anyone?
Midoriya thought, his mind racing.
But it wasn’t just anyone. It was you.
“I—“ Midoriya hesitated, unsure of how to continue. His mind was a tangled mess, filled with thoughts of Todoroki, the mission, and the strange connection he felt. “I just wanted to thank you properly.”
Todoroki regarded him for a moment, his gaze piercing. Then, in a voice so soft it almost didn’t seem real, he said. “You’re different, Midoriya.”
The words hung in the air between them, and Midoriya felt his heart skip a beat. “Different?” He echoed, not sure what Todoroki meant.
Todoroki didn’t answer right away. His eyes flickered with something, something almost dark, though it was carefully hidden behind his calm exterior. “Yes. You…..stand out.”
Midoriya wasn’t sure what fi make of that. Was it a compliment? A warning? Todoroki’s calm demeanor made it impossible to tell, but there was something unsettlingly intense about the way he spoke. It made Midoriya’s skin prickle with a strange mixture of excitement and unease.
Before Midoriya could ask what Todoroki meant, the other boy placed his hand on Midoriya’s scar, gently caressing it. “What happened?”
The freckled boy gulped, as his palms began to sweat. A nervous laugh breached Midoriya’s throat, as he waved the boy off. “I-it was an…….ACCIDENT, nothing too major.”
Todoroki didn’t push for more information, but his eyes did darken for a slight second. Midoriya was able to catch it, as he felt his heart quicken.
Though as time went by, Todoroki’s gaze shifted away, back towards the horizon. “This place isn’t what it seems.” Todoroki said, echoing his cryptic warning.
And with that, todoroki turned and walked away, leaving Midoriya standing alone, his mind buzzing with questions.
What did Todoroki mean? Why was he being so cryptic? There was something beneath the surface with Todoroki, something darker than what he showed the world. And that only made Midoriya more obsessed.
As he watched Todoroki’s retreating figure, Midoriya felt a strange thrill course through him. He had spent so much time studying Todoroki from afar, but now, it was different. Todoroki has noticed him. He had acknowledged him.
This is only the beginning
Midoriya thought, his fingers itching to write down every detail of their encounter in his notebook.
***
It was still the afternoon as some students were still in class. Midoriya had finished his class not long ago, and was in the cafeteria, it buzzed with the usual energy of students. His eyes scanned the room, searching. He couldn’t get the cryptic words out his head, even since the brief encounter with Todoroki.
Todoroki’s calm, intense gaze, the way he said, “You’re different,” it all played on a loop in Midoriya’s thoughts.
And then, he saw him
Todoroki was sitting at a table near the back, his mismatch eyes staring down at his lunch, completely alone. His usual stoic expression seemed more distant than even, as if the noise of the cafeteria didn’t reach him at all. Midoriya felt a strange pull, a compulsion to go over, to sit with him. Midoriya breathed out, as he didn’t think twice before his legs began moving on their own.
With each step towards Todoroki, Midoriya’s heart raced. His mind buzzed with thoughts.
Why was I different? Does he know something? Am I caught?
He approached the table cautiously, his eyes locked on Todoroki’s face. Todoroki didn’t look up at first, seemingly lost in thought, but as Midoriya placed his tray down and took a seat across from him, the dual colored eyes flickered up to meet his.
“T-todoroki.” Midoriya said, his voice softer than he intended. “Do you mind if I sit here?” The freckled boy felt his cheeks heat up, feeling the gaze from the other intensify.
Todoroki blinked once, and though his face remained calm, there was a subtle shift in his expression, an almost imperceptible frown, but not at him. He wasn’t angry, but there was something shimmering beneath the surface. Something about his gaze seemed darker, though it was hidden well beneath his usual mask of calm.
“You can.” Todoroki said after a pause, his voice low and steady.
Midoriya nodded, placing his tray down carefully, and for a moment, the two sat in silence. The cafeteria’s noise seemed distant, as if they were in a bubble, disconnected from the rest of the world. Midoriya could feel his pulse quicken, the proximity to Todoroki is both thrilling and nerve wracking. He glanced at Todoroki’s food, then back at his face, unsure what to say.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the tension between them was suddenly shattered by a loud, abrasive voice.
“DEKU!”
Midoriya’s body tensed reflexively.. he didn’t need to turn around to recognize the voice that had cut through the quiet atmosphere. A sharp, booming presence approached the table, and soon, Bakugo Katsuki loomed over them, his scowl etched deep on his face.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Bakugo sneered, glaring down at Midoriya. His usual explosive energy radiated off him like heat from a furnace. “Sitting with Icy-Hot over here now? You think you’re better than everyone else just because you got in? You’re still a quirkless wannabe!”
Midoriya forced himself to stay calm. He was used to Bakugo’s taunts and intimidation tactics. They had grown up together, and Bakugo had always treated him like this, harsh, aggressive, but Midoriya had learned to manage his reactions thanks to Tomura.
“I just wanted to talk.” Midoriya said quietly, his eyes flicking from Bakugo to Todoroki. Todoroki was staring at Bakugo now, his calm exterior holding steady, but there was an unmistakable flicker of something in his eyes, annoyance maybe? Or anger.
“Talk?” Bakugo scoffed, his red eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms. “What could you possibly have to say to him?”
Midoriya clenched his jaw, but before he could respond, Todoroki spoke, his voice cold and measured.
“Is there a problem, Bakugo?” Todoroki’s gaze was steady, though the edge in his tone made it clear he wasn’t pleased with the interruption.
Bakugo sneered at Todoroki, his explosive temper barely restrained. “This doesn’t involve you, you Icy-Hot bastard.”
Todoroki’s expression didn’t change, but Midoriya could feel the shift in the air. Todoroki’s annoyance was palpable, even if he didn’t show it outwardly. The tension between the two boys were thick enough to cut through, and for a brief moment, Midoriya wondered if Bakugo and Todoroki might actually come to blows.
But then, Todoroki simply leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting away from Bakugo, dismissive. “If you’re done.” He said calmly. “I’d like to eat in peace with Midoriya.”
Midoriya’s face flushed as he watched, his pulse quickening. Todoroki’s calm demeanor wasn’t just for show, he was completely unfazed by Bakugo’s aggressive presence. Midoriya admired that. He had never been able to stand up to Bakugo in the same way, not without feeling the weight of their history pressing down on him.
Bakugo scowled, clearly annoyed that Todoroki wasn’t rising to his bait. He turned and glared back at Midoriya, his voice dropping into a growl. “Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re sitting with him, DEKU.”
With that, Bakugo stomped away, leaving Midoriya and Todoroki in tense silence once again.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The cafeteria’s noise seemed to rush back in, and Midoriya realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. Todoroki, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered, as if Bakugo’s presence had been a mere annoyance in his day.
“A-are you okay?” Midoriya asked after a beat, his voice hesitant.
Todoroki’s gaze shifted back to him, and though his expression remained calm, there was a faint, almost imperceptible edge to his tone when he replied. “I don’t care about him.”
Midoriya nodded, though he could still feel the residual tension in the air. He knew Bakugo’s outburst had annoyed Todoroki, but he wasn’t sure what to say to ease the situation. Instead, he found himself glancing around the cafeteria, and that’s when he noticed something strange.
A few students from Class 1-A were watching him.
They weren’t exactly hiding, but they were clearly curious, whispering among themselves, glancing at him and Todoroki. Midoriya recognized a couple of them, Uraraka and Kirishima, both sitting a few tables away, stealing glances at him with confused expressions. It seemed like word had gotten around about Midoriya sitting with Todoroki, and now there was an undercurrent of curiosity rippling through the cafeteria.
“Looks like people are talking.” Midoriya mumbled under his breath, glancing back at Todoroki, playing with his fingers nervously.
Todoroki, however, didn’t seem to care. His attention was on his food, though his focus was distant. “Let them.” He quietly spoke. “It doesn’t matter.”
Midoriya nodded, trying to focus on his own lunch, though his mind kept drifting back to Todoroki’s calmness in the face of Bakugo’s aggression. There was something about Todoroki’s composure, something that drew Midoriya in even more. He wanted to understand Todoroki’s mind, his motivations. He wanted to figure him out.
But what Midoriya didn’t realize was that Todoroki’s thoughts were equally preoccupied with him. Despite his outward calmness, Todoroki couldn’t ignore the strange pull he felt towards Midoriya. There was something about the green haired boy that gnawed at him, something that made Todoroki keep his eyes on him even when he wasn’t looking.
The connection between them was growing, slowly and quietly, but neither of them knew exactly what to make of it just yet
From now, they ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, while in the curious eyes of Class 1-A continued to watch from afar.
***
Lunch had ended, and the Cafeteria began to empty as students made their way back to class early. Midoriya, lost in thought about his earlier encounter with Todoroki, stood up from their table, adjusting his bag. His mind kept replaying the moment, how Todoroki, with that calm, unreadable expression, had handled Bakugo without too many words. There was something magnetic about Todoroki.
He slung his bag over his shoulder, mentally preparing himself for the rest of the day, when Todoroki, unexpectedly stood up as well.
“Are you heading back to class?” Todoroki asked in his usual calm tone.
Midoriya blinked, startled. “Y-yeah, I’m in Class 1-C.”
Todoroki nodded slightly. “I’ll walk with you.”
Midoriya’s heart skipped a beat at the offer, but all he could manage was a nervous nod in return. Why does he want to walk with me? Midoriya’s thoughts spun as they began walking together, side by side. The hallways, filled with the chatter and footsteps of other students, seemed to blur around them, leaving just the two of them in an odd, shared silence.
Midoriya was hyper aware of Todoroki’s presence beside him, the quiet confidence the other boy excluded. Every now and then, he stood glances at him, trying to read his expression, but as always, Todoroki’s face remained calm, neutral. It was impossible to tell what was going on behind those mismatched eyes, and that mystery only deepened Midoriya’s fascination.
As they walked, Todoroki suddenly broke the silence. “Bakugo…..does he always act like that?”
Midoriya blinked, surprised by the question. “Oh, uh, yeah. That’s just how Kacchan is. He’s always been…….intense.”
“Intense is an understatement.” Todoroki said, his tone even. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
Midoriya paused, considering the question. “I guess….I’m used to it. He’s been like that since we were kids. I don’t really think about it anymore.”
Todoroki glanced at him, his gaze steady. “You shouldn’t have to get used to that.”
There was no harshness in his voice, just quiet observation that hit Midoriya deeper than expected. Maybe he’s right. Midoriya thought, though he didn’t know what to say in response.
The silence returned, and soon enough, they reached the door to Class 1-C. Midoriya hesitated, unsure of how to end the conversation, or if he even wanted to.
“Thanks for walking with me.” Midoriya mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He felt flustered by Todoroki’s quiet presence and unsure of what he was supposed to say. “I—uh—“
“See you later.” Todoroki said simply, his gaze lingering in Midoriya for Judy a moment longer before he turned and walked away.
Midoriya watched him leave, feeling a strange sense of loss as Todoroki disappeared around the corner. His heart was pounding, and his mind was buzzing with questions.
Why did he walk with me? What does he think of me?
The brief interaction only left him more infatuated, more drawn to the enigma that was Todoroki.
Midoriya placed his hands to his cheeks, feeling how warm they were due to the now red blush painting his face. His heart was beating so fast that he subconsciously walked into class, groaning as he felt so embarrassed.
Midoriya sat in class, distracted by thoughts of Todoroki. His fascination with the dual colored boy was quickly growing into something deeper. He found himself obsessing over the smallest details. Todoroki’s calm voice, the way his eyes seemed to see through everything, and even the subtle tension that seemed to linger between them. Midoriya didn’t understand why, but he couldn’t stop thinking about him.
His wandering thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the classroom door sliding open. President Mic strolled in with his usual over the top energy.
“What’s up! Ready to learn some English today?!” President Mic shouted, his voice booming through the room like an air horn.
Midoriya jolted in his seat, along with several other students, wincing at the volume. Despite the jarring introduction, President Mic knew how to light up a room with his infectious smile, and it even helped pull Midoriya back to the present. He had always liked President Mic’s energy, even if it was a bit much at times.
“We’re gonna make this lesson a blast!” President Mic continued, clearly enjoying his own hype. “Who’s ready to practice their English?!”
The lesson began in the usual chaotic style that President Muc was known for, loud, energetic, and surprising effective. Midoriya did his best to focus, but his thoughts kept drifting. He couldn’t shake the strange pull he felt towards Todoroki, the way he seemed to effortlessly take up space in Midoriya’s mind.
As the lesson went on, Midoriya noticed strange tension in the air. There was a shift in the room’s atmosphere, something darker, more unsettling. He glanced around and saw that many of the students were glancing nervously towards a boy sitting near the back of the room.
Shinso Hitoshi
Midoriya hadn’t had many interactions with Shinso, but he had heard the whispers. The boys quirk—brainwashing—had unnerved many of his classmates. Some found it creepy, others outright scary. But Midoriya…..he wasn’t creeped out. In fact, he found himself curious. Shinso, much like Todoroki, carried an air of mystery. And Midoriya had always been drawn to people he didn’t fully understand.
As President Mic continued the lesson, he called on Shinso to read a passage in English. The room seemed to hit its breath as Shinso stood up. There was a noticeable unease among the students—many of them still wary of his quirk, but Shinso remained unfazed, his expression calm as he read aloud in a deep, monotone voice.
“Nice job, Shinso!” President Mic beamed. “See, everyone? Nothing to be nervous about!”
Despite President Mic’s cheerful encouragement, the tension in the room didn’t fade. The students still exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable around Shinso. Midoriya couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. He understood what it was like to be seen as something……different.
When the lesson ended, the students began to file out the room, but Midoriya lingered behind, his curiosity getting the better of him. As Shinso packed up his things, Midoriya approached him, trying to come up with something to say.
“Uh, hey.” Midoriya started, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “You did a good job today in class.”
Shinso looked up, his expression unreadable. “Thanks.”
There was an awkward pause, but Midoriya pressed on. “I’ve heard about your quirk…..brainwashing, right?”
Shinso’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if preparing for the usual judgment. “Yeah. What about it?”
“I just think it’s…..really interesting.” Midoriya said honestly. “It must be hard, though. With how people react to it.”
Shinso’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “Most people don’t find it interesting. They usually just stay away.”
“I’m not most people.” Midoriya said with a small, determined smile. “I like learning about quirks. I don’t think it’s fair for people to judge you based on that.”
Shinso studied him for a moment, as if trying to figure out if Midoriya was being sincere. Finally, he nodded. “You’re different.”
“Thanks, I guess?” Midoriya laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “I just think quirks are tools. It’s how you use them that matters.”
Shinso raised an eyebrow. “You’ve put some thought into this.”
“Yeah.” Midoriya admitted. “I, uh, write down notes about quirks. It’s kind of a hobby.”
Shinso smirked, a rare expression on his otherwise stoic face. “A quirk nerd, huh?”
Midoriya flushed slightly, before pouting. “You could say that.”
As the two continue to talk, Midoriya found himself growing more comfortable around Shinso. The boys blunt, straightforward nature was refreshing, and despite the initial tension, Midoriya could tell that Shinso appreciated the lack of judgment.
By the time they finished their conversation, most of the class had left. Midoriya felt a strange sense of connections with Shinso, similar to what he felt with Todoroki—an understanding of what it meant to be misunderstood.
As Midoriya left the classroom, his mind was once again swirling with thoughts of Todoroki and now Shinso. Both were mysteries to him, both had quirks that set them apart, and both had captured his attention in different ways.
Chapter 4: Secrets in the night
Summary:
Assassination for the first time
Chapter Text
The sun was long gone, and the city was cloaked in darkness by the time Midoriya returned home. He stepped through the door of the small apartment, greeted by the warm glow of the living room lamp and the familiar scent of his mother’s cooking.
“Welcome home, Izuku!” Inko called from the kitchen. “How was your day?”
Midoriya forced a smile, though his nerves buzzed just beneath the surface. “It was fine, Mom. Just more classes. I think I’m getting used to the schedule now.”
“That’s great to hear!” She replied, her voice full of pride. “You work so hard. I know you’ll do amazing things at UA.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Midoriya swallowed hard, feeling a pang of guilt. She had no ideas what he was really doing—no idea about the dangerous world he had stepped into with Tomura Shigaraki. “I’ve got some homework to finish up, so I’ll be in my room for a bit.”
He excused himself and shut his bedroom door behind him. The small space, usually his sanctuary, felt suffocating tonight. His heart pounding in his chest as he packed a small bag, slipping into dark clothes.
Tonight, I have to meet Tomura
Midoriya crept through the apartment as quietly as he could, making sure his mother didn’t hear him as he snuck into the cold night. Once outside, the weight of what he was about to do sank in deeper. The further he walked, the more his stomach churned.
He was going to meet Tomura
That same unease always crept in when he thought of the man—the leader of the League of Villains. Despite having spent weeks working for him, the sight of Tomura still unnerved him. His unsettling gaze, the decaying hand always resting on his face—it was as if the man carried death with him wherever he went.
I’m not ready for this
Midoriya thought, his steps quickening as he neared the abandoned warehouse where his training will comense.
I’m just a kid playing with fire
The dimly lit street was empty as Midoriya approached the warehouse. His nerves spiked when he saw a familiar silhouette standing in the shadows—Tomura was already waiting for him, his form barely visible under the flickering streetlight.
“Midoriya.” Tomura’s voice was cold, as always, and sent a shiver down Midoriya’s spine. “You’re late, again.”
“S-sorry.” Midoriya stammered, his palms sweaty. He was always nervous around Tomura, no matter how many times they met.
Tomura tilted his head slightly, studying him. “Don’t apologize. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
Midoriya nodded quickly, keeping his eyes down.
Why do I always feel like I’m one wrong move away from him killing me?
Tomura’s gaze lingered on him before he turned away, walking deeper into the alley with Midoriya following closely. The abandoned warehouse loomed ahead, its windows shattered, its structure rotting away in the night air.
“Tell me about your day.” Tomura said, his voice low and curious.
Midoriya hesitated. “It was….normal. Classes, training. President Mic taught English today.”
Tomura’s steps slowed, and he cast a glance over his shoulder. “That’s not what I care about, and you know it. Who did you meet? What did you learn about your classmates?”
Midoriya’s throat tightened. Tomura wasn’t interested in trivial details; he wanted information. Information that could be used against UA. He thought back to the face he had encountered today—Shinso.
“There’s one…..Shinso. He’s stoic and defensive, but his quirk seems strong. He might be worth paying attention too.” Midoriya said carefully, unsure if mentioning Shinso was a mistake.
Tomura stopped in his tracks, turning to face Midoriya fully now. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not gonna talk about your shining armor.”
Midoriya’s face flushed. “S-shush, h-he’s just different.”
Tomura’s expression shifted, amusement dancing in his red eyes. “Different, you say? Or are you just paying more attention to him than you should? Stalker.”
Midoriya’s heart skipped a beat, his face burning with embarrassment. “N-no! It’s not like that!”
“Sure it’s not.” Tomura said with a mocking grin, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re too easy to read, Midoriya, but you’re working hard so I’ll give you that.”
Midoriya swallowed hard, trying to focus on something else, anything but the heat rising in his face. The way Tomura was looking at him made him feel even more exposed. He had tried to keep his thoughts about Todoroki subtle— he couldn’t afford to be distracted. But it was hard to ignore the way his mind kept drifting back to the quiet, intense boy who had saved him months ago.
After a long, uncomfortable pause, Tomura’s smirk faded, and he motioned towards the warehouse. “Enough about your school crush. Unless you are corrupting him to be on our side, we have business to attend too.”
The door to the warehouse creaked as they stepped inside, the dim light casting were shadows in the cracked walls. As they entered, another figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, stern looking man with cold, calculating eyes. His sharp, angular face gave him an air of authority, and his presence was immediately unsettling.
“This is Kurogane.” Tomura said, introducing the man with a wave of his hand. “He’s a professional assassin and will be teaching you from now on.”
Midoriya’s eyes widened as he stared at Kurogane, feeling the weight of the situation crash down on him. Tomura hadn’t mentioned anything about an assassin mentor before tonight.
Kurogane’s gaze was piercing, like a predator sizing up its prey. “You have potential.” He said, his voice deep and authoritative. “But potential means nothing without discipline.”
Midoriya nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had expected something like this—a mentor, someone to guide him in Tomura’s dark world—but now that it was happening, the reality of it felt overwhelming. This man was going to teach him how to kill.
“Your first mission.” Tomura continued, his voice drawing Midoriya’s attention back to him. “It’s time to put what you’ve learned to use. There’s a man, we call him Mister Blaster. He’s been causing problems for us, and we need him dealt with.”
Midoriya’s stomach twisted at the word “dealt.” He knew what Tomura meant—this wasn’t just about gathering information or playing a small part in their plans. This was about killing. His first mission wasn’t just a test of loyalty—it was a test of whether or not he could actually take a life.
Midoriya’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His mind raced with doubts and fears, but he knew there was no way out. Not now.
“Are you ready?” Tomura asked, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
Midoriya’s voice shook slightly, but he forced himself to answer. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Tomura said, satisfaction dripping from his voice. He leaned in closer, his breath hot on Midoriya’s face. “Remember, Midoriya…..if you hesitate, if you fail…..you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
Midoriya nodded, swallowing the fear that threatened to choke him. He had come too far to back down now. His life—and the lives of the people he cared about—depended on his ability to adapt to this new world.
The next few days were a blur for Midoriya. The world of UA felt so far removed from the nights spent in abandoned warehouses, training in the arts of assassination under Kurogane’s cold, calculating gaze. It was as if he was leading two lives—one where he was a normal student, blending in among his peers, and another where hr was being shaped into a weapon of death.
Kurogane was relentless. He pushed Midoriya to his physical and mental limits, forcing him to hone skills he never thought he would need. The man was a master of his craft, an assassin with decades of experience, and he made sure Midoriya understood that failure in his like of work meant death.
“Assassination isn’t about brute strength.” Kurogane said one night as they trained in silence, the only sounds being Midoriya’s heavy breathing and the clinks of weapons being handled. “It’s about precision. One wrong move, one hesitation, and you’ll be the one lying in a pool of blood.”
Midoriya nodded, sweat dripping from his brow as he practiced the techniques Kurogane had drilled into him. His hands shook with the weight of the kunai he had been practicing with, each strike feeling more natural with time, but still foreign in his heart.
“I understand.” Midoriya said, trying to push away the knot of fear tightening in his chest.
“No, you don’t.” Kurogane said sharply, stepping in close. His eyes bored into Midoriya’s, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. “You will only understand once you’ve taken a life.”
Two nights later, the mission was upon him.
The target: Mister Blaster, a Pro Hero known for his explosive combat style. Tomura had tasked Midoriya with eliminating him, a challenge designed to test whether the young assassin was ready to fully embrace this life.
Midoriya had studied every detail about Mister Blaster in preparation—the hero’s patrol routes, his weakness, his quirk, and his fighting style. The plan was simple: wait for Mister Blaster to patrol the alley near the old district, strike quickly, and escape before any other hero’s could arrive.
But nothing ever went according to plan
As Midoriya crouched in the rooftop, hidden in the shadows, waiting for his target to appear, his mind raced. Every second felt like an eternity, his nerves buzzing with the weight of what he was about to do.
I have to do this. There’s no turning back now.
Finally, he saw him—a figure moving through the alley, the faint light from the street lamps reflecting off the metallic gauntlets the hero wore. Mister Blaster moved with confidence, unaware of the danger lurking above him.
Midoriya’s heart pounded in his ears as he readied himself. He leapt silently from the rooftop, landing behind Mister Blaster, knife in hand. His muscles tended, ready to strike.
But before he could deliver a killing blow, Mister Blaster turned, his instincts sharp. A blast of energy erupted from his gauntlets, forcing Midoriya to dodge at the last second. The explosion sent him crashing into a wall, his body slamming into the ground with a painful thud.
“You picked the wrong hero to mess with, kid!” Mister Blaster shouted, his eyes locking onto Midoriya.
Panic surged through Midoriya’s veins. He’s stronger than I expected.
Mister Blaster wasted no time, firing another round of explosive blasts at Midoriya, who barely managed to dodge each one. The alley lit up with bursts of light and sound, the smell of scorched concrete filling the air.
I need to get closer….i need to end this quickly. Midoriya thought, trying to keep his fear in check.
With a burst of speed, Midoriya darted forward, using his agility to weave between the blasts, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t be blinded. He felt the heat of the blasts singe his skin, but he pushed through the pain. His mind raced as he tried to find an opening—a moment of weakness to exploit.
Finally, he saw it.
Mister Blaster was winding up for another attack, his gauntlet charging up. Midoriya kept into the air, twisting his body to avoid the blast, and landed behind the hero. In one swift motion, he plunged the knife deep into Mister Blaster’s side, aiming for a critical point.
The hero gasped in pain, stumbling forward as blood dripped from the wound. But he wasn’t down yet.
With a pained roar, Mister Blaster spun around, swinging his gauntlet in a desperate attempt to strike Midoriya. The blow connected, sending Midoriya flying back into the wall. Pain exploded through his ribs, but he forced himself to stand, ignoring the throbbing ache in his body.
“I…..I won’t let you…..get away with this.” Mister Blaster growled, clutching his bleeding side.
Midoriya’s vision blurred for a moment, but he steeled himself. He couldn’t hesitate now. He had to finish it.
Gathering the last of his strength, Midoriya charged forward, dodging one final desperate blast from the hero before delivering a fatal strike. His survival hunting knife pierced through Mister Blasters chest, the hero’s eyes widening in shock before he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
Midoriya stood over the body, his chest heaving with exhaustion, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He had done it. His first kill, well third, but you get it.
Midoriya’s heart still pounding in his chest, but now, it wasn’t from the fight—it was from the thrill of the kill. His footsteps are light as he moved through the deserted streets, his body sore but buzzing with energy. He had done it. His first mission, his first kill, and he had survived.
He could still feel the weight of the knife in his hand, the way it had slid through Mister Blaster’s flesh, the last breath the hero had taken before crumbling to the ground. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, and now, he was eager to return to Tomura and share his success.
Midoriya slipped through the shadows his path well-word after so many nights of sneaking out. It wasn’t long before he reached the familiar abandoned building where Tomura awaited. The hideout was dark and damp, the faint smell of decay lingering in the air. But to Midoriya, it had become almost comforting—this place where he had been molded into something new.
As he entered, his eyes immediately found Tomura Shigaraki, who was lounging in a tattered chair, his fingers twitching lazily over the armrests. Tomura’s bloodshot eyes slowly lifted to meet Midoriya’s, a sickly grin spreading across his face.
“Well, well, look who’s back.” Tomura purred, his voice low and raspy. “How was your little test, Midoriya?”
Midoriya stood straighter, a faint smile creeping onto his own face. He tried to hide the rush of pride swelling inside him, but it was no use. He was excited—happy, even. The thrill of the mission, the way he had fought and killed, the way he had succeeded….it all made his heart race.
“I….I did it, Tomu.” Midoriya said, his voice steady but filled with the eagerness of someone who wanted to prove himself. “Mister Blaster is dead.”
For a moment, the room was silent, the words hanging in the air. Tomura’s grin widened, and he rose slowly from his chair, walking toward Midoriya with an almost predatory grace. He circled around him, his gaze sharp and calculating, like a wolf inspecting its prey.
“You killed him.” Tomura whispered, almost to himself, before stopping directly in front of Midoriya. “And how did it feel? To end a hero’s life?”
Midoriya hesitated for a second, the memory of Mister Blaster’s final moments flashing in his mind. But instead of fear or guilt, all he felt was satisfaction. He didn’t know if that made him dangerous—or broken—but he didn’t care.
“It felt….right.” Midoriya admitted, meeting Tomura’s gaze with determination. “Like I was finally found what I was meant to do.”
Tomura’s eyes lit up with approval, his grin widening into something more sinister. He reached out, his hand hovering dangerously close to Midoriya’s face. Midoriya flinched slightly, a part of him still fearful of Tomura’s touch—the threat of disintegration always looming.
But instead of touching him, Tomura’s fingers stopped just short of Midoriya’s cheek, tracing the air as if he were stroking a prized possession.
“You’re learning fast.” Tomura said, his voice soft but filled with dark pride. “I knew you had potential, but you’re exceeding my expectations. You killed a pro hero on your first mission….thats impressive.”
Midoriya’s chest swelled with pride at the praise, a small tugging at his lips. This was what he had wanted—to prove himself to Tomura, to show that he was capable of becoming what Tomura needed him to be.
“Thank you, Tomura.” Midoriya said quietly, though the excitement in his voice was clear. “I’ll continue to grow stronger. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Tomura’s grin softened, though the sinister edge never left his eyes. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
“I’m sure you will, Midoriya. And you’ll become exactly what I need—a tool to tear down this world and build a new one. You’ve tasted blood now. There’s no going back.”
Midoriya nodded, his pulse quickening at the intensity in Tomura’s gaze. He knew that his path was set now, and he couldn’t turn away from it—not after tonight. Heyzel had embraced this side of himself, and Tomura’s approval, he felt stronger than ever.
Tomura stepped back, his expression thoughtful for a moment before a sly smirk tugged at his lips.
“I’ve arranged something special for you.” Tomura said, pacing or as he spoke. “Now that you’ve proven yourself, it’s time you take on something bigger. You need more training, more guidance.”
Midoriya frowned slightly, unsure of what Tomura meant. “More training? I thought Kurogane was already teaching me everything I needed.”
Tomura chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Kurogane’s good, but you need someone who understands you better—someone who can refine your skills, sharpen you into a perfect weapon.”
Midoriya’s curiosity piqued, but before he could ask more, Tomura’s grin widened, and his red eyes gleamed with amusement.
“I’ll introduce you to him soon. But first…” Tomura paused, his smile turning almost mischievous. “Tell me, Midoriya, have you made progress with Todoroki yet?”
Midoriya froze, his face immediately heating up in embarrassment. His thoughts had been so consumed by the mission that he hadn’t expected Tomura to bring up Todoroki. But, of course, nothing escaped Tomura’s notice.
“I-I have, yes, but it’s a slow process.” Midoriya stammered, his voice betraying the embarrassment surging through him.
“Really? I couldn’t notice.” Tomura teased, stepping closer, his grin widening. “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been watching him, haven’t you? Following him around like a lost puppy?”
Midoriya’s face flushed a deep red, and he looked away, trying to hide his discomfort. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from trailing Todoroki, but hearing Tomura say it out loud made him feel vulnerable.
“S-shush.” Midoriya mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
Tomura’s chuckle was low and amused. “Embarrassed? Well, don’t let it distract you from what more important. But I’ll admit, there’s something about him.”
Midoriya didn’t respond, his mind swirling with thoughts of Todoroki, the strange connection he felt every time he saw him. It was confusing and overwhelming, but it pulled him.
Tomura’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Keep your eyes on him, we need him, but remember……this world won’t wait for you to figure out your feelings. You’re in a game now. And you need to stay sharp.”
Midoriya nodded, still feeling the heat of embarrassment on his face, but he understood the warning in Tomura’s words. Whatever strange obsession he had with Todoroki, it couldn’t interfere with his missions. Not if he wanted to survive.
“I understand Tomura.” Midoriya said quietly, his resolve returning. “I won’t lose focus.”
Tomura’s smile returned, pleased with Midoriya’s response. “Good. Now go rest up. We have more work to do, and soon, you’ll meet someone who can take you to the next level. You’re going to need all your strength for what’s coming.”
Midoriya bowed his head slightly before turning to leave, the weight of Tomura’s praise and the promise of more training lingering in his mind. As he walked back into the shadows, a sense of pride swelled inside him. He had killed a hero. He had survived. And he had earned Tomura’s approval.
Chapter 5: The Crossfire
Summary:
Midoriya is going through the goods and bads
Chapter Text
The early morning sun barely crept over the horizon as Midoriya trudged towards school, his body aching from last nights mission. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his torso, hidden beneath his school uniform, but each step sent a dull throb through his muscles. He couldn’t afford to let anyone notice, though. His mission had been successful, and for the first time? He felt a strange satisfaction about killing Mister Blaster, but he couldn’t let his classmates or teachers see the aftermath.
The streets were quieter than usual as he walked. The weight of the previous nights event still hung over him, and Midoriya tried to push away the thoughts of blood, the final breath of a dying hero, and Tomura’s sinister grin of approval. This was his life now, and the only person who seemed to matter beyond this was….Todoroki. Midoriya’s thoughts drifted to him, the boy he couldn’t stop watching.
But before he could get too lost in his thoughts, the sounds of chaos erupted from the street ahead. Screams echoed off the buildings? And the ground shook as a villains quirk caused havoc. People ran in every direction, cars screeched to a halt, and Midoriya froze for a moment, torn between his instinct to intervene and his desire to stay hidden in the shadows.
Up ahead, a massive villain with stone—like skin rampaged through the streets, hurling chunks of debris and sending panicked citizens scattering. Several hero’s were already engaged, trying to subdue him, but the situation looked out of control. Midoriya narrowed his eyes, assessing the scene. His heart raced, but he knew better than to jump in carelessly. He wasn’t a pro hero. He couldn’t draw attention to himself.
Just as Midoriya started to move out of the area, a massive piece of debris—a street lamp—was knocked loose in the chaos. Before he could react, it came crashing down, slamming into his waist and pinning him to the ground. A sharp pain shot through him, and for a moment, his breath was knocked from his lungs.
Midoriya gasped, clawing at the pavement as he struggled to free himself, but the lamp was too heavy, trapping him. Panic surged through him, and he quickly scanned the street, hoping someone would help.
“Help! Someone, please help!” Midoriya cried, his voice strained with pain.
He spotted a hero nearby, one of the pros fighting the villain. Relief washed over him as he called out again. “Please! I’m trapped!”
But the hero didn’t even glance in his direction. Focused on the villain, they sprinted past him without a second thought, leaving Midoriya behind. His chest tightened, frustration bubbling up inside him. He was in pain, pinned to the ground, and the hero had ignored him.
So this is what it feels like to be helpless once more.
Midoriya thought bitterly, his frustration growing as his vision started to blur from the pain. Midoriya grit his teeth. He was about to give up hope when a familiar voice broke through the chaos.
“Midoriya!”
Midoriya turned his head, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Todoroki rushing towards him. The boys heterochromatic eyes were focused, his expression calm but with an underlying intensity that sent a rush through Midoriya’s chest.
With a swift movement, Todoroki used his ice to freeze the ground around the street lamp, carefully lifting the heavy debris to ensure Midoriya wouldn’t be injured further. Midoriya gasped as the weight was lifted off him, and he pulled himself out from under the wreckage, still shaken but immediately grateful.
“T-Todoroki.” Midoriya muttered, his voice shaky. “You saved me again.”
Todoroki glanced at him, his usual calm expression unchanging. “Are you hurt?”
Midoriya shook his head, though his body still ached from the mission and the incident. “No, just…….sore.”
Without another word, Todoroki offered his hand, helping Midoriya to his feet. There was something in the way Todoroki moved, so effortlessly controlled, that made Midoriya’s heart beat a little faster. He was drawn to him, fascinated by the boy’s strength and quiet demeanor, but it was more than that.
As the two began walking toward school, the tension from the villain attack faded, replaced by a quiet understanding between them. Midoriya stole at Todoroki, still trying to process everything that had happened. He was embarrassed, his chest tight with emotions he didn’t fully understand, but Todoroki’s calm presence grounded him.
They walked in silence for a few minutes before Todoroki suddenly stopped. Midoriya blinked in confusion, following his gaze, and his stomach dropped when he saw the tall, imposing figure of Endeavor standing in the street ahead.
“Shoto!”
The deep, booming voice of Enji Todoroki—Endeavor, the number two hero—echoed through the street, and Midoriya felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Todoroki’s father stood there, arms crossed, his stern expression darkening as he glared at his son.
Midoriya knew of Endeavors reputation, his relentless pursuit of becoming the Number One Hero, and the rumors about how harsh he was with his family. But seeing him up close, towering over them with his fiery aura, was even more intimidating than he had imagined.
“Why did you walk off in the middle of the fight?” Endeavor’s voice was low and dangerous, his eyes narrowing at Todoroki. “You disobeyed my orders.”
Todoroki’s expression remained stoic, his face unreadable. “I was helping someone.”
Endeavor’s glare sharpened, his fiery aura intensifying. “I don’t care. You don’t leave my side, you are my masterpiece.”
Midoriya’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking in despite his fear. “Todoroki was helping me! I was trapped, and the hero ignored me. He did the right thing—“
But before Midoriya could finish, Endeavor’s fiery gaze turned to him, and Midoriya flinched, feeling the full weight of the hero’s anger.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Endeavor growled, his voice dripping with authority. He dismissed Midoriya with a glance before focusing on Todoroki again, his hand rising in a sudden motion.
Midoriya’s eyes widened in shock as Endeavor’s hand came down, slapping Todoroki across the face with a brutal crack. The sound echoed in the street, and Midoriya froze, his breath catching in his throat.
Todoroki didn’t flinch, didn’t react. He stood still, his expression blank, as if this was something he was used to. But Midoriya’s blood boiled with answer and disbelief. How could a hero do this, especially in front of a witness.
“Shoto.” Endeavor said coldly, his voice firm. “You’ll listen to me. No more distractions.”
Todoroki remained silent, his eyes distant, as if the words didn’t reach him. Midoriya, however, clenched his fists, fighting the urge to yell. He wanted to defend Todoroki, to shout at Endeavor for hurting him, but he knew better. What could he do against the Number Two Hero?
Endeavor turned, walking away without another word, leaving the two boys standing in the aftermath of his rage. Midoriya watched him go, his heart still pounding in his chest, before he turned to Todoroki.
“Todoroki…..I’m so sorry.” Midoriya whispered, his voice heavy with guilt. “I…I didn’t mean to cause—“
“It’s fine.” Todoroki interrupted, his voice calm but distant. “It doesn’t matter.”
Midoriya stared at him, his heart aching for Todoroki. He had seen the way Endeavor looked at him, the coldness in his eyes, and it made Midoriya feel helpless. Todoroki didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve any of it.
Without thinking, Midoriya reached out, his hand brushing against Todoroki’s arm in a gesture of comfort. Todoroki glanced at him, his eyes softening ever so slightly.
“Thank you for saving me.” Midoriya said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity.
Todoroki nodded, his gaze lingering on Midoriya for a moment longer than necessary before they started walking again, the silence between them heavy, but charged with unspoken understanding.
As they continued towards school, Midoriya couldn’t help but feel more drawn to Todoroki than ever. He wished to save Todoroki from the harshness of reality and save him from his father. It was almost a need to protect him, to help him more.
And as for Todoroki, though his face remained calm and composed, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—it was always dark, but this time possessive. He knew Midoriya was drawn to him, and that knowledge stirred something deep inside him.
Something that made him want to keep Midoriya close, no matter what.
()()()
As Midoriya and Todoroki approached the gates of UA High, the tension between them was palpable. The awkward silence after their encounter with Endeavor lingered in the air, but there was something else, something deeper between them that neither could put into words.
Midoriya’s mind raced, the events of the morning playing over and over. He couldn’t shake the feeling of Todoroki’s eyes on him, the quiet way he had stepped in to save him, the calmness in the face of his father’s wrath. There was something in the way Todoroki carried himself that Midoriya found majestic—strong but reserved, intense but distant.
They stopped just outside the school, the usual rush of students flowing around them like water, but Midoriya’s focus was solely on Todoroki. For a moment, Todoroki turned to face him, his eyes soft, as if searching for something in Midoriya’s gaze. Midoriya’s heart skipped a beat as Todoroki’s hand twitched, as though he was about to reach out to him.
Todoroki hesitated, his eyes flicking to Midoriya’s cheek. His fingers hovered near Midoriya’s face, barely an inch away, the tension thick between them. Midoriya felt a strong pull towards him, an urge to close the distance and let Todoroki touch him, if only for a second. His heart raced with a mix of confusion and anticipation.
But before Todoroki’s fingers could make contact, the moment shattered.
“Yo! Todoroki! Midoriya!”
The energetic voice of Eijiro Kirishima broke through the air, snapping both boys out of their trance. Midoriya blinked, feeling the rush of heat in his cheeks as he quickly stepped back, distancing himself from Todoroki. He looked up to see Kirishima, Mina Ashido, and Denki Kaminari from Class 1-A approaching them with wide grins.
“Hey, what are you two doing out here?” Mina teased, her eyes gleaming with curiosity as she looked between the two boys. “You looked like you were about to have a serious moment!”
Midoriya’s stomach twisted in frustration. He has been so close to something….to understanding whatever strange pull there was between him and Todoroki. And now, it was gone, interrupted by the rowdy trio from Class 1-A. He forced a smile, trying to keep his emotions in check, but there was a spark of irritation gnawing at him.
Kirishima threw a friendly arm around Todoroki, clearly oblivious to the moment he had disturbed. “Man, Todoroki, you’re always so serious! Loosen up a bit, dude!”
Todoroki, who had been surprisingly quiet since the interruption, glanced at Midoriya for a fleeting moment before nodding to Kirishima, his calm demeanor slipping back into place, slightly annoyed, but he didn’t show it. But there was a flicker in his eyes, a flash of something like regret, that Midoriya caught just before it disappeared
Denki, always playful, leaned over and grinned. “So, what’s the story? You guys heading in together?” His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, causing Mina to giggle.
Midoriya, still frustrated by the interruption, forced himself to stay calm. He didn’t want to draw attention to the tension that had been hanging between him and Todoroki. “Yeah, just walking to school.” He mumbled, trying to sound casual.
As the group bantered, Midoriya felt something brush against his hand. His heart skipped as he realized Todoroki’s fingers had slightly touched his, just for a second. The contact was brief, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt of electricity through Midoriya’s body—a spark that was impossible to ignore.
For a moment, Todoroki’s eyes met his, and Midoriya could tell Todoroki had felt it too. The fleeting touch seemed to say more than any words could, and Midoriya’s breath caught in his throat. There was a connection, something unspoken but undeniable between them.
But before either of them could process it, Kirishima clapped Todoroki on the back. “Come on, man! Let’s get to class! You don’t want to be late to homeroom, Mr. Aizawa is pretty scary when he’s mad.”
Todoroki gave a small nod, casting one last glance at Midoriya. It was brief but loaded with meaning, as if there were thousand things left unsaid between them.
As Kirishima, Mina, and Denki pulled Todoroki away towards Class 1-A, Midoriya found himself rooted to the spot. He watched them walk off, his chest tightening with an emotion he didn’t fully understand—jealousy. It felt foreign to him, but seeing Todoroki surrounded by his classmates, laughing and joking like nothing had happened, made Midoriya’s insides churn.
His gaze lingered on Todoroki’s retreating form, the memory of that electric spark between their fingers playing over and over in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, even if it was just for a brief moment.
But now, with Todoroki walking away with the others, Midoriya couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of frustration. He wanted to be the one waking with Todoroki. He wanted to be the one Todoroki turned too. The jealousy gnawed at him as he watched from a distance, unable to shake the growing obsession forming inside him.
Midoriya bit his thump, his pupils turning red as his green eyes began to glow a lighter green, becoming more vibrant, as he forced his anger down, stopping himself from gnawing at his thumb.
()()()
As Midoriya walked towards class, the lingering feeling of jealousy gnawed at him. He couldn’t help but replay the scene in his mind—Todoroki walking away with Kirishima, Mina, and Denki, leaving him behind. It was ridiculous to feel this way. He didn’t know much about Todoroki yet, even if they had been going to school for a few weeks.
By the time he reached the door of Class 1-C, the jealousy had simmered down to a dull ache, though it was soon replaced by another emotion—annoyance.
Inside the classroom, the students were already settled into their morning routine, their conversations buzzing around the room. But one topic caught Midoriya’s attention—Shinso Hitoshi. He could hear classmates whispering, their voices low but clear enough for him to catch snippets.
“That guys quirk is so creepy…”
“Yeah, brainwashing? Imagine being forced to do stuff without even knowing.”
Midoriya clenched his fists, a surge of frustration rising within him. Shinso’s quirk might have made others uneasy, but it intrigued Midoriya. He knew what it felt like to be looked at differently, to be judged for something beyond your control. Shinso didn’t deserve this ridicule, and Midoriya couldn’t stand hearing it anymore.
Without thinking, he stood up from his desk and turned to face the group of students who were talking. “You don’t even know him.” He said, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Shinso’s quirk might be different, but Yang doesn’t make him creepy. It makes him powerful. How about you actually get to know someone before you start talking about them?”
The room fell silent. Every pair of eyes turned towards him, some wide with surprise, others narrowed in discomfort. Midoriya could feel the weight of their stares, but he didn’t care. He strips his ground, his green eyes burning with quiet defiance.
The silence stretched on for a few more seconds before the tension in the room broke. A few students muttered under their breath, but no one argues with him. Midoriya sat back down, his heart still pounding in his chest, though he felt a sense of satisfaction in standing up for Shinso.
Soon class ended, Midoriya gathered his things, his mind still buzzing with the events of the morning. He had only spoken with Shinso once, but there was something about him that Midoriya found intriguing, like a puzzle he wanted to understand. As the other students began to file out of the room, Midoriya made his way to Shinso, who was sitting quietly near the back, his face expressionless but his eyes sharp.
“Hey, Shinso.” Midoriya said, giving him a small smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch together.”
Shinso raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the offer. “You’re not scared of me?” He asked, his tone flat but carrying a hint of curiosity.
Midoriya shook his head. “No, I’m not. I think your quirk is fascinating, actually. I’d like to get to know you better.”
Shinso studied him for a moment before nodding. “Alright.” He said simply, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
The two walked down the halls together, the atmosphere between them was calm but not awkward. Shinso wasn’t much for small talk, but Midoriya didn’t mind. He was more than happy to walk in comfortable silence.
As they headed towards the cafeteria, however, Midoriya suddenly felt a presence beside him. He turned his head and froze when he saw Todoroki standing there, his usual calm expression fixed into place, though there was a strange intensity in his eyes.
“Midoriya.” Todoroki said, his voice soft but firm. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Midoriya blinked, a bit startled by the sudden request. “Uh, sure.” He replied, glancing at Shinso apologetically. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit?”
Shinso shrugged, unfazed. “No problem.”
As Shinso walked off towards the cafeteria, Todoroki gestured for Midoriya to follow him. They walked in silence for a while, away from the busy corridors and the crowed lunchroom, until they reached the PE grounds. There, under the shade of a large tree near the track, Todoroki finally stopped, turning to face Midoriya.
“I wanted to have lunch with you.” Todoroki said, his tone calm, though there was a subtle undercurrent of something more. “Just the two of us.”
Midoriya’s heart did a strange flip in his chest. He hadn’t expected this—Todoroki actively seeking him out, wanting to spend time with him alone. The jealousy he had felt earlier was quickly replaced by a confusing mix of emotions. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Sure.” He said, his voice quieter than he intended. “That sounds…..nice.”
They sat down under the tree, the cold shade offering a break from the earth mid the midday sun. Todoroki sent down his tray on his lap, but his eyes lingered on Midoriya, watching him with quiet intensity that made Midoriya’s pulse quicken.
Midoriya shifted slightly, feeling the weight of Todoroki’s gaze on him. “So…..why here?” He asked, trying to break the silence as his face flushed a pretty pink. “I mean, I thought you’d want to eat with your classmates.”
Todoroki’a expression softened just a fraction. “I didn’t feel like it today.” He said simply. “I wanted some peace. And………..some time alone with you.”
Midoriya’s breath caught in his throat. Todoroki’s honestly was disarming, and the way he said it—so straightforward, so calm—making Midoriya’s cheeks flush.
For a brief moment, their fingers brushed against each other as they reached for their lunches, and Midoriya felt it again—the spark. It was like a jolt of electricity shooting through him, the brief contact sending a rush of heat to his face. He glanced up at Todoroki, and for a second, he thought he saw something flicker in his eyes, something deeper than the calm facade he always wore.
Todoroki, however, didn’t say anything about it. He simply continued eating, as if nothing has happened, though there was a subtle shift in his posture, as though he were more aware of Midoriya’s presence now than ever before.
Midoriya’s heart was beating in his ears as he tried to focus on his food, but all he could think about was the brief spark, the quiet intensity in Todoroki’s eyes, and the strange, unspoken connection that seemed to be growing stronger between them.
Chapter 6: Hidden marks and growing obsession
Summary:
Danger, danger ⚠️
Midoriya is slowly getting dangerous, what will become of him
Notes:
So I’m sick, I lost my voice and my throat is sore, so my chapters might be a bit delayed. I’m fine though, just a small cold 🥶, but I’ll manage
Chapter Text
Lunch ended as quietly as it began, with both Midoriya and Todoroki finishing their meals under the shade of the tree, the warmth of the afternoon sun filtering through the branches above them. Despite the comfortable silence, there was an unspoken tension between the two, a strange magnetic pull that neither of them could fully understand but neither wanted to ignore.
Todoroki stood up first, brushing off his pants before glancing at Midoriya. “I’ll walk you back to class.” He said, his voice as calm as it was before, making sound like the most natural thing in the world.
Midoriya’s heart gave a little leap. He wasn’t used to this—someone caring enough to walk with him, especially someone like Todoroki. “Y-yeah, sure.” He stammered, quickly gathering his things and following Todoroki back toward the school building.
The walk was quiet, but not awkward. Midoriya kept stealing glances at Todoroki, feeling a growing warmth in his chest. Every small movement Todoroki made, every quiet breath, seemed to pull him deeper into his thoughts. By the told they reached Class 1-C’s door, Midoriya was fully lost in the growing obsession he felt for the quiet, stoic boy beside him.
“I’ll see you later.” Todoroki said, offering Midoriya a soft nod before turning and heading towards his own class.
Midoriya stood at the door for a moment, watching Todoroki’s retreating figure, feeling the weight of brief moments together cling to him. His thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—infatuation, curiosity, and something darker, something protective.
He didn’t even notice the passing time as he entered the classroom and took his seat. The teachers voice soon droned in the background, going over a new math lesson that Midoriya couldn’t care less about. Numbers and formulas blurred together, meaningless compared to the thoughts swirling in his head.
His mind wandered back to Todoroki—his calm voice, the way his fingers brushed against Midoriya’s earlier, the subtle intensity in his gaze. But then another image flashed in his mind, one that made his blood simmer with quiet anger—the mark he had noticed on Todoroki’s neck earlier. It had been faint, almost hidden beneath his collar, but there was no mistaking it—a handprint.
It was Endeavor. The second most powerful hero—hiring him like this made Midoriya’s heart pound with a protective rage. How could someone who protests the people of Japan, treat their own child like that? The idea festered in Midoriya’s mind, feeling his ground desire to protect Todoroki from everything, even if Todoroki didn’t know it yet.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, Midoriya barely paying attention to his lesson as his mind stayed locked on Todoroki. When the day ended, Midoriya packed his things quickly and made his way to the entrance, his heart racing in anticipation.
He waited outside the building, watching as students streamed out of the doors, searching for Todoroki in the crowd. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw him—a calm presence amidst the bustling students. Todoroki walked toward him, his expression unreadable as always, though his eyes seemed to soften when they met Midoriya’s.
“Hey.” Midoriya said, trying to sound causal despite the excitement bubbling up inside him. “Do you……maybe want to go to the market? Just the two of us?”
Todoroki blinked, surprised by the sudden invitation, but then nodded. “Sure.” He said simply, falling into step beside Midoriya as they walked away from school grounds.
The market wasn’t far from UA, and it was busy this time of day, with vendors calling out to customers and people bustling between stalls. Midoriya and Todoroki walked side by side, weaving through the crowd. Midoriya tried to focus on their surrounding, but his mind kept drifting back to the handprint he had seen earlier, the bruise on Todoroki’s neck that made his chest tighter with a mix of anger and concern.
As they passed by a quiet alley between two stalls, Midoriya couldn’t hold back anymore. He reached out, gently touching Todoroki’s shoulder to stop him.
“Todoroki……I noticed something earlier.” Midoriya began, his voice hesitant but filling with worry. He gestured toward Todoroki’s neck, his hand hovering against the faint mark. “That bruise…….on your neck. Did Endeavor do that too?”
For a moment, Todoroki didn’t say anything, his eyes darkening as he lowered his gaze. His hand unconsciously brushed over the mark on his neck, a flicker of something—pain? Frustration? Crossing his face before he left out a quiet sigh.
“Hes always been like that.” Todoroki said softly, his voice calm but tinged with an underlying bitterness. “My father……he’s obsessed with creating the perfect hero. I’m just another part of his plan.”
Midoriya’s fists clenched at his sides, anger surging through him. How could anyone, especially someone like Endeavor, treat their child that way? It wasn’t right. “That’s not okay.” Midoriya said, his voice shaking slightly with emotion. “You don’t deserve to go through this.”
Todoroki glanced at him, sadness reaching his eyes. “I know. But it’s not something I can change. He’s always been like this.”
There was a heavy silence between them, the noise of the bustling market fading into the background as they stood there, lost in their own thoughts. Midoriya wanted to say something more, to offer some kind of comfort, but before he could, Todoroki spoke again, his tone shifting to something lighter.
“I’m fine, I’m used to this kind of treatment.” Todoroki said, his gaze distant but still held some light to them.
Midoriya sighed, but soon his eyes shifted to the mark on Todoroki’s left side of his face. A big burn mark sat present, looking as red as ever. Midoriya hadn’t noticed the mark up until now, clearly oblivious to the scar that big. A genuine hurt formed on his face, before his hand subconsciously placed itself onto Todoroki’s left cheek.
“Did he do this too?” Midoriya said, lightly tracing his thump over the scar. Todoroki blinked, slightly leaning into the touch. “No, my mother did, but no fault to her.”
Midoriya flinched, clearly not expecting such a thing to leave the pretty boys lips. Though, before he could get angry, Todoroki continued.
“My mother……she was driven insane by my father.” Todoroki said quietly, almost to himself. “My father obsession drove her to be that way. But in some way, her madness was a kind of escape. She’d always tell me that the world was a place filled with people who’d never understood us, and maybe she was right. She wasn’t sane, but sometimes I think…..maybe she was the only one who really saw things clearly.”
Midoriya listened, feeling a strange mix of sadness and understanding. Todoroki family was so much more complicated than he had realized, and the pain Todoroki carried seemed so much deeper than what he showed on the surface.
“Maybe she did.” Midoriya said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before his fingers gently brushed against Todoroki’s hand. The touch was brief, but it was enough to send that same spark of electricity through him, just like before.
Todoroki glanced down at their hands, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t pull away. For a moment, they stood there, connected by that small, fleeting touch, before the noise of the market pulled them back to reality.
“We should get going.” Todoroki said, his voice steady, though there was a strange warmth in his eyes as he looked at Midoriya. “We still have to get back.”
Midoriya nodded, feeling his heart race as they walked side by side, their quiet bond growing stronger with each passing moment.
The hidden bar where Midoriya met Tomura Shigaraki had become a familiar, almost second home to him over the past few months. The dimly lit interior, the scent of stale alcohol, and the eerie quiet of the place always set his nerves on edge, yet it was also where he felt a strange of belonging.
Kurogiri was always there, ever watchful, while Tomura was…….unpredictable. But lately, Midoriya had found himself less afraid of Tomura, even if a part of him still felt uneasy in the older man’s presence.
Tonight, however, Midoriya was eager to report on his mission. His footsteps quickened as he approached the hidden entrance, his mind swirling with thoughts of Todoroki. The mission was going well—too well, almost. He had grown close to Todoroki, learned more about him than he could have imagined. Yet, alongside his duty to manipulate Todoroki for the league, there was another feeling. Something far more personal and consuming. Love.
As Midoriya stepped into the bar, he spotted Tomura lounging at one of the tables, his red eyes glowing faintly under the dim light. Kurogiri was behind the bar, simply wiping down glasses, his misty form a constant, silent presence.
“You’re late, Midoriya, again.” Tomura’s voice cut through the quiet, his lips curling into a playful smirk. “How’s our little mission going?”
Midoriya’s heart skipped a beat. He hesitated for a moment, trying to calm the rush of memories that had been building ever since his time with Todoroki earlier that day. He quickly moved toward Tomura, pulling up a chair beside him. “It’s going well.” Midoriya said, a nervous edge in his voice. “Todoroki is……opening up to me. He trusts me.”
Tomura’s smirk deepened, his fingers tapping idly on the table. “Oh? Trusts you, huh? Sounds like someone’s getting a little too close for comfort.”
Midoriya’s face flushed at the teasing tone, his heart beating faster. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Tomura wasn’t done.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Tomura continued, leaning closer with a devilish grin. “You’ve been obsessing over him for months now, haven’t you? That pretty boys gotten under your skin, hasn’t he?”
Midoriya felt the heat rising to his cheeks, a mix of embarrassment as frustration bubbling up. “It’s not like that.” He mumbled, though the lie felt weak even to him. “I’m just doing what you told me—getting close to him so we can use him. That’s all.”
Tomura chuckled darkly, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, sure. You’re just being a good little assassin. Except……you’ve been writing about him, haven’t you? In that notebook of yours?”
Midoriya’s eyes widened in panic as Tomura reached behind him and pulled out a small, well-worn notebook—the one Midoriya had been using to jot down every detail about Todoroki. His breath hitched. When had he left that behind? His mind raced as Tomur flipped through the pages, eyes scanning the carefully written notes.
“Todoroki is incredibly strong, both in body and mind. He’s cold on the outside but hides so much emotion underneath.” Tomura read aloud, amusement dancing in his eyes as Midoriya squirmed in his seat. “I need to protect him from Endeavor……I won’t let anyone hurt him.”
Midoriya’s face was burning now, his heart pounding in his chest. He lunged for the notebook, but Tomura held it just out of reach, laughing softly.
“Crushes are fine, Midoriya.” Tomura teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “But don’t forget what your real mission is. We need Todoroki on our side, and if getting close to him helps….then by all means, keep obsessing.”
Midoriya finally managed to snatch the notebook back, clutching it protectively to his chest. His embarrassment only deepened as he met Tomura’s gaze, but there was something else there—something almost fond, like an older brother teasing his younger sibling.
“Stupid…..always trying to bully me.” Midoriya muttered, trying to compose himself.
Tomura shrugged, still smirking. “As long as you don’t forget what’s at stake, I don’t care much about your crush, just corrupt him.”
Kurogiri, who had been silently watching the exchange from behind the bar, finally spoke up, his deep, rumbling voice filling the room. “It seems the two of you are growing close.” He observed, a hint of approval in his tone. “Perhaps this bond will serve the League well in the future.”
Midoriya glanced at Kurogiri, then back at Tomura, who was now leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the situation. Despite the teasing, Midoriya couldn’t deny that he felt a strange sense of camaraderie with Tomura—a bond that had grown over time, despite the fear and intimidation that had once dominated their interactions.
It was almost like having an older sibling—a twisted, dangerous sibling who reveled in chaos, but a sibling nonetheless.
“Anyway.” Tomura said, waving his hand dismissively. “Enough about your little crush. You did well on your first mission, so you’ll be getting another one soon.”
Midoriya straightened up, the serious tone in Tomura’s voice snapping him back to the reality of his situation. “What’s the next mission?” He asked, his voice steady now, focused.
Tomura’s grin returned, this time darker, more sinister. “You’ll find out soon enough. But for now…..just keep playing nice with Todoroki. We’ll make our move when the time is right.”
Midoriya nodded, his mind already shifting gears from the embarrassment of being teased to the deadly seriousness of his role as an assassin. He had been successful with his first mission—Mister Blaster had been difficult to take down, but he managed it. Now, he was ready for whatever came next.
But even as the weight of his assassin duties settled back on his shoulders, his thoughts drifted back to Todoroki, to the stranger pull he felt towards the quiet, complex boy.
As Midoriya stood to leave, Tomura’s voice stopped him. “Oh, and Midoriya?”
He turned, looking back at the older boy, who was now lounging lazily in his chair again, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Don’t get TOO attached, I want your mind open on the prize, not on the boy.”
Midoriya didn’t respond, his face betraying nothing as he left the bar. But as he walked into the night, his mind swirled with thoughts of Todoroki—his strength, his pain, and strange connections they both feel.
He knew Tomura was right. He couldn’t afford to have his mind blank. But every time he thought about Todoroki’s soft smile or the spark of electricity when their hands touched.
()()()
The morning air was crisp as Midoriya walked to school beside Todoroki, every step sending a thrill down his spine. This morning felt different—charged. Every fleeting glance, each accidental brush of shoulders, felt magnified, and Midoriya’s obsession for Todoroki grew sharper, threading itself into his every thought. He found himself memorizing the way Todoroki’s breath clouded in the crisp air, the glimmer in his heterochromatic eyes, and hot he seemed to focus only on him.
But Midoriya wasn’t the only one feeling the pull.
Todoroki walked quietly, yet there was subtle tension in his posture, his gaze occasionally flickering over Midoriya with an intensity that barely stayed hidden beneath his composed exterior. The walk felt secluded, like a small world only for the two of them, and Todoroki seemed just as reluctant to break the spell.
As they approached Class 1-C, Tenya Iida strode up to them, his brisk movements radiating his usual sense of discipline. Behind him trailed Bakugo, scowling, and a new student from Class 1-A—a boy with dark hair and a piecing gaze who had joined the school only recently. Midoriya noted how the new student seemed annoyed, maybe even a little resentful, and his gaze lingered on Todoroki with a mix of jealousy and frustration.
“Good morning, Todoroki!” Iida greeted formally, giving him a swift bow. “I’ve been meaning to discuss today’s training exercises with you before class.”
Bakugo scoffed, arms crossed, his eyes darting suspiciously to Midoriya. “What the hell is this, Deku? Playing the innocent act? You’re fooling no one.”
Midoriya feigned a look of startled innocence, eyes widening as he gave Bakugo a puzzled smiled. “Kacchan, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Todoroki and I were just walking to class.”
Bakugo’s lips curled, about to retort, but Todoroki ignored him, his gaze sharply on Bakugo with a hint of a glare. Without a word, Todoroki reached for Midoriya’s hand, intertwining their fingers.
Midoriya felt a jolt rush through him at the unexpected contact, his face flushing a warm shade of red as he glanced up, surprised but thrilled. Todoroki’s grip was warm, steady, and possessive, and in that moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered.
Midoriya’s eyes gleamed green for a fleeting second, hidden by the warmth of his blush as Todoroki held his gaze. Bakugo looked away with a grunt while the new students scowl deepened.
“Let’s go, Midoriya.” Todoroki’s voice was low, calm, and he didn’t bother with another glance at the others, his attention entirely focused on him. Together, they made their way to Class 1-C, and for the entire walk, Midoriya could feel the quiet strength of Todoroki beside him, their hands still intertwined.
But as he sat through class, Midoriya found his mind wandering, replaying the feel of Todoroki’s hand on his own, the spark of warmth that had spread from his fingers settled into his heart. It consumed his focus until the world around him blurred.
It wasn’t until President Mic’s enthusiastic voice broke through the daze that Midoriya jolted back to reality.
“Alright, class!” Yamada Hizashi called out with a grin. “Today’s assignment is a little different. We’re going to analyze combat techniques from Class 1-A and Class 1-B’s recent training. Pay attention—these students could be your rivals.”
The lights dimmed as he pulled up footage on the monitors at the front of the room, showing the intense training sessions of the upper classes. Midoriya’s gaze settled almost immediately on Todoroki’s figure, calm yet fierce as he faced his opponents with his usual poise.
But beside Todoroki stood the new student, his expression unreadable yet steely l, his movements mirrored Todoroki’s strength. The sight made something inside Midoriya flare with jealousy, his grip tightening on his pen.
His stomach churned as he watched the other boy interact with Todoroki, sparring and exchanging strategies. A bitter thought flickered through his mind. That student had no right to stand so close, no right to look at Todoroki that way.
The class around him faded away as his thoughts swirled, the spark of jealousy igniting into a dangerous sense of possessiveness.
Chapter 7: The swift strike
Summary:
More training, more possessiveness
Notes:
IM BACK! New chapter here and ready to do more
Chapter Text
Midoriya stood at the edge of the dimly lit hideout, fingers tapping lightly against his notebook as he waited for Tomura’s orders. Across from him, Tomura reclined casually on a chair, one leg draped over the other as he idly twirled a pen between his fingers.
“Midoriya.” Tomura began, not even looking up from the file in his hands. “We’ve got another mission for you. Some low ranking hero who abuses his power—someone the world won’t miss.” His voice was as indifferent as ever, tinged with an almost playful mockery. “This one likes to play hero in public, but behind the scenes, he’s nothing but a coward.”
Midoriya’s expression didn’t change, but a flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. He took the file from Tomura and glanced at the picture of the target—a man with a smug, self assured smile. His name was Kosuke Retsu, and he wielded a minor flame quirk he often used to extort people and intimidate them when other hero’s weren’t watching.
Tomura’s lip curled with disdain. “He’s weak. I could wipe him out if I wanted to. But I think this one is suited to your…..specific talents. Handle it quickly, won’t you?”
With a curt nod, Midoriya tucked the file under his arm. “Understood, Tomu.”
As he left, he called softly for his cat. “Chessur.”
A small shape slipped from the shadows and hopped onto Midoriya’s shoulder—a lean, grey cat with mesmerizing golden eyes and purple stripes, perfectly camouflaged in the dim light. Chessur, Midoriya’s only companion outside of his growing bond with Todoroki, nuzzled against him before settling on his shoulder, eyes glinting with a curious intelligence.
Together, they crept into the city under the cover of night, with Midoriya moving fluidly through the alleys, a shadow among shadows. Kosuke Retsu had a predicable schedule, and stalking him was almost laughably easy.
Midoriya observed from a distance, watching as the hero swaggered through empty streets and indulged in his own cruelty when he thought no one was watching. With every encounter, Midoriya filled his notebook with observations, detailing not just Retsu’s abilities but also his habits, routines, and preferred haunts.
On the fifth night, as Retsu left a back alley where he’d just harassed a frightened shopkeeper, Midoriya seized the opportunity. He signaled for Chessur to stay back, the cat crouching in a shadow with its eyes locked onto him, as he stepped forward to intercept Retsu.
“What are you doing here, kid?” Retsu sneered, eyes narrowing as he looked Midoriya up and down. “Didn’t your mom teach you not go wander alone at night?”
Midoriya tilted his head, his gaze sharp and unflinching. “I’m just here to clean up the city.” He replied with a cold smile, pulling out his notebook and flipping it open to the page labeled, “KOSUKE RETSU - Target #2.”
Retsu laughed, the sound harsh and full of arrogance. “You, take me down?” He lit a flame in his hand, smirking as he held it up, casting his face in a cruel, flickering light. “Good luck with that.”
But Midoriya was already moving. He closed the distance between them in a flash, slipping around Retsu’s flame with practiced ease. He struck hard, knocking Retsu off balance, his body moving in a precise series of attacks he’d honed through hours of training with Kurogane. Retsu stumbled, clearly not expecting such agility and strength from a seemingly harmless kid.
The hero tried to counterattack, swinging his flame wildly, but Midoriya dodged effortlessly, each step measured, each movement calculated. Within moments, he had Retsu cornered, panting and clutching his side where a quick jab had left a nasty bruise.
“Not so powerful now, are you?” Midoriya murmured, his voice dripping with quiet contempt. He crouched down to look at Retsu in the eye, his smile almost gentle, mocking. “You like to call yourself a hero, but you’re nothing but a coward—a weak, insignificant man hiding behind his quirk.”
Retsu’s eyes widened with fear as he clutched his side, the pain intensifying as he tried to catch his breath. “Y-you…..you’re just a kid….”
“And yet.” Midoriya continued, leaning in closer. “I took you down with out breaking a sweat.” He watched as the life slowly draining from Retsu’s eyes, his voice a soft, taunting whisper. “A hero like you…..forgotten before anyone even knows you’re gone.”
Retsu’s breath hitched one last time, and then his body went still. Midoriya rose to his feet, dusting off his hands as if he’d taken out the trash. Chessur padded over to him, curling around his ankles and purring in approval, his golden eyes gleaming in the faint streetlight.
Satisfied, Midoriya closed his notebook, tucking it safely back in his bag. “Come on, Chessur.” He whispered, giving the cat a scratch behind the ears. “Let’s go report back.”
Back at the hidden bar, Tomura was lounging in a worn out sofa, Kurogiri cleaning glasses behind the counter as he kept an eye on them both. Midoriya slipped into the room with Chessur trotting alongside him, his usual composed demeanor slight cracked by a spark of exhilaration.
“Mission complete.” He announced, barely able to contain the faint hint of pride in his voice.
Tomura looked up, his lips twitching in a rare smirk. “Quick and clean. As I expected.” He leaned back, a glint of approval in his gaze as he watched Midoriya. “Good work, Midoriya. I didn’t even like that guy, so knowing you took him out without fuss? I’d say you’re shaping up nicely.”
As Midoriya strolled towards school that morning, the headline on his phone couldn’t have made him prouder: “Pro Hero Mister Blaster Found Dead—Authorities stunned by such a stunt on a hero.” His lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as he read the article, the details recounting his perfect execution. Each sentence felt like a reward, validating his growing skill.
With Chessur perched on his shoulder, the small grey cat let out a low purr, rubbing its head against him as if sensing Midoriya’s pride.
Tucking his phone away, he moved down the hall and scanned the crowd until he caught sight of Todoroki. His excitement surged; he was eager to see him, to see that look of acknowledgment he craved. But something was off. Todoroki was moving slowly, almost mechanically, his shoulders weighted down as if carrying an invisible burden. His face held none of that usual calm focus Midoriya admired.
“Good morning, Todoroki.” Midoriya greeted brightly, stepping up with his usual enthusiasm.
Todoroki stopped and looked at him, but his gaze was distant, shadowed by something heavy and unspoken. He sighed softly, eyes flickering down as he barely mustered a response. “Midoriya l…..I appreciate you coming to see me, but today’s not a good day.” He hesitated, clearly searching for the right words. “Could you give me some space? Just for a while.”
The words stung, even if Todoroki’s voice was gentle. Midoriya forced a smile, hiding the sting behind a look of easy acceptance. “Of course, Todoroki. Take all the time you need.” He replied, his tone light. Yet as Todoroki turned and walked away, Midoriya’s smile faded, leaving only a flicker of frustration underneath.
As he made his way to Class 1-C alone, a low, slow anger began simmering. He knew where this was coming from—Endeavor, the relentless figure whose twisted control left Todoroki crushed under expectations. Midoriya clenched his fists as he walked, his mind swirling with thoughts of what he could do to shield Todoroki from such pressure.
Seated in the classroom, he tuned out most of the noise around him, instead letting his mind drift to Todoroki. His memory shapened to that unmistakable sadness in Todoroki’s eyes, and he only solidified his growing sense of duty towards him. Todoroki deserved freedom from his father’s suffocating grip, and maybe, just maybe, Midoriya could be the one to help him break away.
The class began to fill up, students chattering around him as President Mic launched into the days lesson. Despite the hum of activity, Midoriya found it hard to focus. His mind was still with Todoroki, fixated on that brief exchange. Every thought of his became tethered to Todoroki’s struggle, the desire to protect him grows dangerously consuming.
***
As Midoriya packed up his books for lunch, his phone buzzed with a message from Todoroki: “Would you like to eat with me? I’d like to see you.” The words alone sent a thrill through him. Smiling to himself, he pocketed his phone and made his way towards the lunchroom, feeling an undeniable excitement at spending more time with Todoroki.
But as Midoriya spotted Todoroki waiting by the entrance, a shadow fell over his happiness. Todoroki’s normally calm face was subtly tense, and a faint but unmistakable bruise marked his neck. Even from a distance, Midoriya could see it—a cruel remnant of Endeavor’s twisted brand of training.
Anger flared in Midoriya’s chest, but he forced his features into a bright, calm expression as he approached, determined not to let Todoroki see his frustration.
“Hey, Todoroki!” He greeted with a warmth that almost felt genuine. “I’ll grab us some lunch. Wait here, okay?”
Midoriya took about 5 minutes, before he returned with trays of food in each hand, and led Todoroki to their usual spot under the large tree near the PE grounds, a quiet, shaded space that offered them privacy from the bustling schoolyard.
As they settled down, Midoriya’s reaching into his bag, pulling out a small, neatly organized first aid kit.
“Here.” Midoriya said, as he opened a bottle of antiseptic. “Let me help with that.”
Todoroki raised a brow but didn’t object, letting Midoriya gently dab at the bruises with soft, deliberate care. Each gently touch felt like a shield against the world’s cruelty, and Todoroki, normally so composed, found himself reaching up to brush Midoriya’s cheek. Midoriya’s heart skipped at the touch, and he felt an intense desire to guard Todoroki, even from his own father.
“You should eat too, Midoriya .” Todoroki murmured, looking at him with a warmth that felt almost out of character, but was strangely comforting.
Blushing, Midoriya picked up a piece of Todoroki’s food and held it out. “Here, you eat first.”
Todoroki’s gaze lingered as he accepted the food, their connections deepening. Midoriya’s feelings shifted dangerously, transforming his admiration and empathy into something more intense, more consuming. He wanted to be close to Todoroki, so close that no one—not even Endeavor—could harm him again.
But just as Midoriya reached to offer Todoroki another bite, a voice cut through the silence.
“Well, well, look at this.” The new student from Class 1-A, Masato Ryuji, smirked as he approached, crossing his arms. “The quirkless wonder and the half and half disappointment. Quite the duo.”
Midoriya’s calm facade slipped, but only for a second. He felt his jaw tighten, and an angry flush rose up to his neck. Ryuji’s mocking smile grew wider as he turned his attention to Todoroki.
“And you, Todoroki.” He sneered. “Aren’t you supposed to be the son of the number two hero? You can barely handle basic training exercises. Weak.”
Todoroki’s expression grew cold, and Midoriya sensed the tension radiating from. Instinctively, Midoriya slid closer, placing himself between Todoroki and Ryuji, his fingers brushing Todoroki’s hand—a small, reassuring gesture that they were in this together. But as Ryuji continued his taunting, Midoriya’s patience waned. Quietly, he reached into his bag, fingers wrapping around the cool handle of his hidden knife, his grip tightening.
The insults blurred in his mind. All he could about was how satisfying it would be to shut Ryuji up, to feel that smug smirk fall away in an instant.
But before he could act, Todoroki’s voice cut through his thoughts, steady and cold. “You can keep insulting me if that’s what you want, Masato, but I suggest you don’t speak about Midoriya that way.”
Ryuji’s grin faltered, clearly not expecting Todoroki to push back. “Oh? So now the half and half loser has something to say?”
Without breaking eye contact, Todoroki’s hand tightened subtly on Midoriya’s, his thumb pressing into the skin. It was a protective gesture, but it sent a shiver through Midoriya’s spine. The quiet fury in Todoroki’s gaze was unmistakable.
“Leave.” Todoroki said softly, his voice filled with an authority that seemed beyond his years. His eyes were locked onto Ryuji’s, challenging him to stay and test his patience further.
After a tense pause, Ryuji rolled his eyes, muttering insults under his breath as he walked away, clearly unsettled by Todoroki’s silent, unyielding intensity.
Midoriya let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the anger that had been simmering slowly subsiding. His hold on the knife loosened, and he let it slip back into his bag, the cold edge of his recent amber replaced with warmth.
“Thank you, Todokoki.” Midoriya murmured, his voice soft.
Todoroki didn’t answer right away, but he lifted his hand to Midoriya’s cheek, fingers brushing softly along his jawline. Midoriya’s face flushed a deep shade of red, and his heart skipped, his emotions grow stronger, more consuming. The touch was gentle, so different from Todoroki’s usual demeanor, and Midoriya felt the warmth spreading through him, turning his admiration into something more intense, something possessive.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter.” Todoroki said, his tone usually soft.
Once they were out of sight under the tree, Midoriya offered Todoroki another bite of his lunch, his gaze unwavering. Todoroki accepted, eyes never leaving Midoriya, a subtle possessiveness reflected back at him.
***
Lunch passed in a serene rhythm, the kind of quiet that felt intimate and unspoken. Midoriya and Todoroki sat under their familiar tree by the PE grounds, the dabbled sunlight filtering through the leaves above them. The meal they’d shared was simple but comforting, though neither seems particularly focused on eating.
Todoroki had finished first, his mismatched eyes drifting to Midoriya as the smaller boy carefully ate his last bite, his face still tinged pink from their earlier conversation.
Midoriya could feel Todoroki’s gaze on him, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t dare look up right away, afraid his face might betray just how much he was thinking about the boy beside him.
When he finally glanced up, their eyes met briefly, and it was enough to send Midoriya’s thoughts spiraling.
Why does it feel like he’d always looking at me? Is he noticing how I’m acting? Am I being too oblivious?
As the bell signaling the end of lunch approaching, Midoriya began packing up the leftover medical supplies and the remains of their lunch. Todoroki moved to stand, brushing off his uniform trousers before extending a hand towards Midoriya.
“Ready to go?” Todoroki asked, his voice calm yet warm.
Midoriya froze for a moment, staring at the offered hand. Slowly, he reached out, placing his hand in Todoroki’s. The coolness of Todoroki’s palm sent a shiver up Midoriya’s spine, and his face flushed a deep crimson.
The moment their hands connected, something shifted. For Midoriya, it was as though every nerve in his body was focused solely on the contact, the warmth spreading through him despite the coolness of Todoroki’s touch. For Todoroki, it was the sight of Midoriya’s blush—a genuine, vulnerable expression that only deepened his growing fascination.
“You’re blushing.” Todoroki commented, a faint smile tugging at the comer of his lips.
Midoriya’s eyes widened slightly as he stumbled over his words. “I—uh—no, I’m not! I just…..it’s warm out here, that’s all.”
Todoroki tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing against the back of Midoriya’s hand as they began to walk. “If you say so.”
The walk back to his main building was quiet, but it was far from uneventful. Each step felt charged, the simple act of holding hands taking on a gravity neither boy was fully prepared to address. Midoriya’s thoughts were a chaotic mess of emotions.
He’s holding my hand. Why is he holding my hand? Does he notice how fast my heart is beating?
Todoroki, meanwhile, found himself stealing glances at Midoriya’s profile, intrigued by the way the smaller boys blush deepened every time their hands shifted slightly. There was a quiet satisfaction in knowing he could elicit such a reaction, though he wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered so much to him.
When they reached the door to Class 1-C, Todoroki stopped, turning to face Midoriya fully. His grip on the other boys hand lingered, his mismatched eyes scanning Midoriya’s face as though searching for something.
“Midoriya.” Todoroki began, his voice soft and deliberate.
“Yes?” Midoriya spoke, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked up at Todoroki, his face still warm.
“Thank you.” Todoroki said simply.
“For what?” Midoriya asked, his confusion evident.
“For being you.” Todoroki replied, his tone steady but with an underlying intensity that made Midoriya’s breath hitch.
Before Midoriya could respond, Todoroki gently let go of his hand, his fingers brushing against Midoriya’s palm in a way that sent another wave of warmth through him.
“See you later.” Todoroki said, offering a small smile before turning and walking away.
Midoriya stood frozen in place for a moment, his mind racing, his hand lingering near his chest, as though trying to capture the sensation of Todoroki’s touch.
What does he mean, ‘Thank you for being you?’
***
The rest of the day passed in a blur for Midoriya. Sitting in class, he could barely focus on President Mic’s enthusiastic lectures. His mind was consumed by thoughts of Todoroki—his touch, his words, the way his mismatched eyes seemed to hold a thousand unspoken things.
At one point, Midoriya’s phone buzzed discreetly in his bag. He pulled it out, shielding the screen with his hand as he read the text.
Tomura: Traning with Kurogane tonight. Don’t be late.
Midoriya’s heart sank slightly. As much as he enjoyed the challenge of his training sessions, the thought of leaving the comforting normalcy of school and diving back into the shadowy world Tomura was cultivating for him felt jarring,
Chessur, his ever loyal Cheshire Cat, had begun to materialize on the desk beside him, its golden eyes narrowing with amusement. The creature purred softly, invisible to the rest of the class but a comforting presence to Midoriya.
By the time the final bell rang, Midoriya was already planning how he’d explain his late night activities to Tomura. But before that, there was something else he needed to do.
***
Midoriya felt his heart race as he watched Todoroki leave the classroom. He knew it was wrong, this compulsion to follow him, to watch his every move, but he couldn’t stop himself. Todoroki had become more than a person to Midoriya—he was a fixation, an anchor, something bright in the growing darkness of his mind.
He lingered at a distance, careful to blend in with the departing students. Chessur materialized on his shoulder, his golden eyes glowing with mischief.
Midoriya had learned that only HE could hear Chessur’s voice, he just never chose to speak, but now he does with confidence.
“Stalking again, I see.” The Cheshire Cat purred, his tail swishing lazily.
“I’m just…..making sure he’s okay.” Midoriya murmured, though his excuse sounded hollow even to him.
Chessur chucked, his grin widening. “Whatever helod you sleep at night, darling.”
Todoroki moved through the crowded halls with effortless grace, his dual-colored hair catching the light. Midoriya’s gaze never left him as he trailed behind, weaving through the throng of students. Todoroki didn’t stop to chat or linger—he never did. Instead, he walked with quiet determination, his focus solely on his destination.
Midoriya followed him outside, keeping to the shadows as Todoroki made his way through the streets of Musutafu. The city was alive with activity, but Midoriya’s world had narrowed to one person.
He noted every detail—the way Todoroki adjusted the strap of his bag, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips pressed into a thin line when he glanced at his phone.
When Todoroki paused to buy a drink from a vending machine, Midoriya ducked behind a nearby wall. Chessur’s soft laugh tickled his ear.
“You’re hopeless.” The cat teased, his voice his voice lifting with amusement. “But he knows you’re there, you know darling.”
Midoriya stiffened. “No….he doesn’t.”
“Doesn’t he?” Chessur purred, his tail brushing against Midoriya’s cheek.
Todoroki took his drink and resumed walking, his steps unhurried. Midoriya followed, his mind racing.
Was Chessur right? Did Todoroki know?
As they approached a quieter part of town, Todoroki suddenly stopped. Midoriya froze, his breath catching in his throat.
Todoroki turned his head slightly, his mismatch eyes scanning the area. For a moment, Midoriya thought he would turn around completely, but instead, Todoroki resumed walking. There was no tension in his movements, no sign of alarm.
Midoriya let out a shaky breath and continued his pursuit, his heart pounding in his chest.
After a couple of minutes, Todoroki’s home loomed ahead, an imposing estate surrounded by high walls. Midoriya stopped at the corner of the street, watching as Todoroki approached the gate.
Todoroki paused, his hand resting on the gate latch. He stood there for a moment, his head tilting ever so slight as if listening.
Midoriya felt cold sweat break out on his forehead. Chessur’s grin widened.
“Oh, be definitely knows.” The cat said, his voice a sing-song whisper.
Todoroki opened the gate and stepped inside, but not before casting a brief glance over his shoulder. His mismatched eyes met Midoriya’s for a split second, and the faintest of smiles graced his lips.
Midoriya’s breath caught. That smile—it wasn’t mocking of disdainful. It was……..amused. Almost fond.
As the gate clicked shut, Midoriya stood there, rooted to the spot. His chest ached, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.
“He didn’t say anything.” Midoriya murmured, more to himself than to Chessur.
“Because he likes it.” Chessur replied, his golden eyes gleaming. “Just as you like watching him.” Chessur purred, now nuzzling Midoriya’s cheek.
Midoriya’s cheeks burned, and he buried his face in his hands. His obsession was spiraling out of control, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.
***
Midoriya stirred awake as his phone buzzed on the nightstand, its glow piercing through the darkness of his room. Midoriya groaned, grabbing his phone as he squinted his eyes. The message from Tomura stark against the black background.
‘Tomura: Training. Now. Don’t be late.’
A rush of adrenaline coursed through him. Tossing aside his blanket, Midoriya moved quickly, changing into his workout clothes. Chessur stretched lazily at the foot of the bed, his golden eyes gleaming.
“Out for another midnight rendezvous?” The cat teased, hopping onto Midoriya’s shoulder. “You’re quite the busy boy, darling.”
Midoriya gave a soft hum, slipping his knife into its sheath and tucked it securely under his jacket. Chessur faded from view, his invisible weight a comforting presence.
Midoriya then made sure his mom was sleep, before jumping from his window, walking a good enough distance.
The city was quieter now, the hum of daytime activity replaced by the soft murmur of crickets and the occasional distant car engine. Midoriya moved through the streets with practiced ease, his green eyes sharp and alert. The air was cool, a faint breeze rustling the leaves above him.
As he approached the hidden bar, Kurogiri’s misty portal materialized before him, swirling with an otherworldly energy. Without hesitation, Midoriya stepped through, the familiar chill of the warp sending a shiver down his spine.
On the other side, Tomura lounged on a worn leather chair, his face illuminated by the pale glow of a screen. He looked up as Midoriya entered, his lips curling into a smirk.
“Right on time for once.” Tomura drawled, setting the screen aside. “How’s my little stalker tonight? Did you have fun playing shadow to your precious snowflake?”
Midoriya flushed, his fists clenching at his sides. “I-I wasn’t—“
Tomura waved him off, clearly amused. “Relax, kid. I don’t care what you do in your free time. As long as you’re focused when it matters.”
Kurogane emerged from the shadows, his imposing figure as sharp and intimidating as ever. “He’s here.” The assassin said, his tone curt. “Let’s get started.”
Tomura leaned back, gesturing lazily. “Go on, Midoriya. Show him what you’ve got. And try not to disappoint me—I’ve got high hopes for my favorite little killer.”
Kurogane was waiting in the expansive underground training facility. The dim lighting cast his stern face into a sharp relief, his arms crossed as he surveyed the room. The space was lined with obstacles, moving platforms, swinging blades, and combat dummies that bristled with sensors.
Kurogane didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We’re focusing on precision tonight. You’re too reliant on instinct and emotion. That’ll get you killed. Start with the moving targets.”
Midoriya nodded and moved to the first station, where several dummies rotated and shifted unpredictably. He drew his knife, his eyes narrowing as he anticipated their movements.
“Center mass.” Kurogane barked. “Strike quickly and retreat before the counter.”
Midoriya’s first strike was clean, the blade slicing through the target with a satisfying his. He pivoted, dodging a sudden swinging arm, and struck again, this time aiming for the dummy’s neck. The movements were fluid, but Kurogane wasn’t satisfied.
“Too slow. Again!”
For hours, Midoriya pushed himself, repeating the drills until his arms ached and his reflexes sharpened. Kurogane escalated the difficulty, adding more moving parts and obstacles. Blades swung dangerously close, and platforms tilted unexpectedly, forcing Midoriya to adapt on the fly.
“Your footwork is sloppy.” Kurogane criticized as Midoriya stumbled slightly during a dodge. “Plant your feet with intent, or you’ll lose balance in a real fight.”
Midoriya gritted his teeth, forcing his tired body to comply. Sweat dripped down his face, but he didn’t falter. Each strike became more precise, each dodge more calculated.
But what after felt like an eternity, Kurogane called for a break. Midoriya sank to the ground, panting heavily, while Chessur materialized beside him, stretching lazily.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard.” The cat yawned, his golden eyes soft with concern.
“I have to.” Midoriya spoke, wiping his brow. “I need to be better. Stronger.”
Kurogane approached, his expression unreadable. “You’re improving.” He admitted grudgingly. “But you still hesitate. That hesitation will cost you when it matters most.”
Midoriya nodded, his green eyes resolute. “I’ll work on it.”
Tomura strolled into the training area, his gaze appraising. “Not bad, kid.” He spoke, his smirk returning. “You’ve come a long way since we picked you up.”
He crouched down beside Midoriya, his tone turning teasing again. “Still, I can’t help but wonder—are you training for me, or for your snowflake?”
Midoriya’s face turned scarlet, but he said nothing, his mind already drifting back to the boy with mismatched eyes.
Chapter 8: A costume of shadows
Summary:
Something is brewing, what will come next
Notes:
I feel confident with my chapters, if i keep up the pace they might be out every two days (Don't quote me on that), but I do start my classes in two week, so college will take up my time, BUT I won't be deterred, I will get it done.
Chapter Text
The hideout felt alive with tension as Tomura summoned Midoriya to the center room. The atmosphere was heavy, the faint smell of dust and old wood lingering in the air. The low hum of conversation among Tomura and Kurogiri quieted as Midoriya entered, his small frame exuding an aura of quiet determination.
Chessur, his ever loyal companion, materialized on his shoulder with a shimmering glow, his golden eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“Midoriya.” Tomura called, his voice sharp and commanding. He leaned casually against the long table, his crimson eyes locked on the boy. “Come here. We need to talk.”
Midoriya obeyed without hesitation, his notebook clutched tightly in his hands. The book, filled with observations, strategies, and sketches, had become his lifeline, a testament to how much he had grown under the leagues watchful eye.
Tomura gestured for him to sit. “We’re moving forward with our plans. Big plans. And for that, I need you to step up.”
Midoriya’s eyes widened slightly, his heart racing. He nodded, his grip on the notebook tightening. “I’m ready.” He said, his voice steady but tinged with anticipation.
Tomura smirked, his scarred lips twisting into something between amusement and menace. “Good. Because this next task isn’t child’s play.”
He tossed a small tablet onto the table, the screen lighting up with an image of U.A. Highs principal, Nezu. Beside it was a list of key files and resources the school kept under heavy security: hero profiles, student progress reports and training activity schedules.
“You’re going to sneak into the principal’s office.” Tomura explained, his tone matter-of-fact. “All the intel we need is locked in his system. Training patterns, hero evaluations, their weaknesses. Everything. You’re going to get it for me.”
Midoriya’s eyes flicked to the tablet, taking in the scope of the mission. It wasn’t just about infiltration—it was about probing himself capable of something much larger.
“How?” He asked, his mind already racing with strategies.
Tomura grinned, clearly pleased with the boys eagerness. “I’ll create a distraction.” He spoke, his tone almost casual. “Something loud and flashy enough to draw the staffs attention. The media will eat it up. While everyone’s busy, you’ll slip in, grab the data, and get out.”
Midoriya nodded slowly, the plan taking shape in his mind. The timing would have to be perfect, the execution flawless.
“One more thing.” Tomura added, his voice dropping slightly. “Start thinking about your costume.”
Midoriya blinked in surprise. “My…..costume?”
Tomura waved a hand dismissively. “You’re not just some errand boy anymore, kid. You’re apart of this. A real villain. And villains need an image. Something that says you’re serious, that you’re not to be trifled with.”
Midoriya’s heart thudded in his chest. A costume. A symbol of his transformation, his allegiance to the League. He glanced down at his notebook, already imagining the possibilities.
Chessur purred softly, his tail curling around Midoriya’s back. “Make it dramatic.” The cat mused, his voice smooth and teasing. “You want them to fear you, don’t you?”
Tomura chuckled, leaning forward to tap a finger on the table. “Listen to the cat. He’s got the right idea. And don’t take too long—we don’t have time for you to play dress up.”
Midoriya’s lips quirked into a small smile, his resolve solidifying. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.” Tomura spoke, standing to leave. “Just don’t get caught. And Midoriya?”
“Yes?” Midoriya spoke, feeling confused
Tomura’s grin widened. “I like the fire I’m starting to see in you. Keep it burning.”
As Tomura exited the room, Midoriya sat back, his mind spinning with ideas for the mission and costume. Chessur hopped down onto the table, his golden eyes fixed on his young companion.
“Shadows, perhaps.” The cat suggested, his voice a low purr. “A cloak of night. Something elegant yet deadly, like me.”
Midoriya nodded absently, his pen scratching against the paper as he jotted down ideas. His thoughts were interrupted only by the faint vibration of his phone. It was Tomura again, a text message appearing on the screen:
Tomura: ‘Don’t screw this up. We’re counting on you.’
Midoriya clenched his fist, determination surging through him. This mission wasn’t just a task—it was a chance to prove himself, to show the League that he was more than capable of standing beside them.
Midoriya stood quietly in the hallway of U.A., his back pressed against the cold, smooth surface of a locker. The bell signaling the end of had rung, and the students of classes 1-A and 1-B were beginning to filter back towards their classrooms. Midoriya stayed still, blending into the background, as his mind worked to weave the threads of his mission into a solid plan.
The Leagues expectations weighed heavily on him, but not in a burdensome way. Instead, they spurred him forward, sharpening his focus. The task ahead wasn’t just about stealing data—it was about proving his worth, showing Tomura that he was the perfect weapon for their cause.
His hand hovered over Chessur, who had become invisible for the moment but sat silently on his shoulder. The comforting presence of his companion grounded him as he prepared to execute the first phase of his plan.
The chaos began precisely as Tomura had promised. The sharp screech of alarms echoed through the halls, paired with the static-Landen announcement urging students and staff to remain calm. Midoriya glanced at his phone, where a single message from Tomura read:
Tomura: ‘ Go now.’
He slipped into action, moving around with calculated precision through the partially crowded corridors. Students whispered nervously to one another, craning their necks to glimpse any sign of the supposed threat. Teachers barked orders, their focus entirely on evacuating the students safely.
Midoriya used the discord to his advantage. Sliding unnoticed into a facility-only stairwell, he made his way towards the principal’s office on the top floor. His footsteps were silent, his breathing steady. The years of blending into the background, of being over looked and underestimated, had prepared him for moments like this.
Reaching the door to Principal Nezu’s office, Midoriya paused to inspect the lock, it was sophisticated, but not impervious. He withdrew a small lock-picking set, a gift from Kurogane, and got to work. The moments ticked by as a soft click of the lock disengaging sent a rush of satisfaction through him.
Sliding the door open just wide enough to slip inside, Midoriya took a moment to absorb the room. It was a meticulous as he had expected: papers filed nearly, shelves lined with books, a large desk adorned with a computer and various documents.
Chessur appeared on the desk with a faint shimmer, his golden eyes gleaming. “Hurry darling.” The cat purred, his voice low and playful. “The clock is ticking.”
Midoriya nodded, pulling a small flash drive from his pocket. He plugged it into the computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he bypassed the system’s security protocols. The files Tomura wasted were vast: hero profiles, patrol schedules, student progress reports, and surveillance data.
As the files began to transfer, Midoriya’s eyes wandered to a folder marked “Confidential.” Curiosity sparked, as he opened it, finding detailed notes on the quirks and abilities of various pro hero’s. His lips curled into a small smile. The information would be invaluable to Tomura.
The sound of approaching footsteps snapped him out of focus. Chessur vanished instantly, his stripes fading into thin air as Midoriya quickly closed the folder and ejected the flash drive.
The sliding door rattled, and Midoriya barely had time to slip into the shadows behind a large cabinet before the door slid open. A teacher stepped inside, muttering to themselves as they grabbed a stack of papers from the desk.
Holding his breath, Midoriya stayed perfectly still. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity, until teacher finally left, sliding the door behind them.
Releasing a quiet sigh, Midoriya moved back to the desk, double checking that everything was in its original place. Satisfied, he slipped out of the office and back into the stairwell.
The echoes of the earlier media chaos still hung in the air as Midoriya weaved through the crowed hallways of U.A. Students were whispering, their excitement and curiosity feeding off the unexpected diversion, the tense energy lingered, but Midoriya paid it little mind. His focus on his phone, clenched tightly in his hand.
‘I should’ve texted him sooner.’ Midoriya thought, his stomach twisting with guilt. Missing lunch with Todoroki had left a bitter weight in his chest. ‘He probably waited for me….’
He glanced at the message app open on his screen. Todoroki’s name sat at the top of his chat list, as if waiting for him to type something—anything. Yet Midoriya hesitated, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard, the words he wanted to say slipping away as soon as he tried to form them.
‘What if he’s upset? What if he doesn’t want to meet tomorrow?’
The thought stung, and for a moment, he nearly locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket. But the image of Todoroki sitting under the tree alone, wondering where he was, pushed him forward.
Finally, with a steady breath, he began typing:
‘Shoto, I’m really sorry for missing lunch today. I know you were probably waiting, and I should have been there. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Let me know what you’d like to do—I’ll bring something special.’
He stared at the words for a moment, feeling they weren’t enough. The message didn’t quite express how much he regretted leaving Todoroki alone, nor how much he valued the time they spent together. He deleted the message and started again:
‘Shoto, I feel awful for missing lunch with you today. Something came up, but that’s no excuse. I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you tomorrow. Can we met at our usual spot?’
Before he could overthink it any longer, he hit send. The message disappeared, and with it went some of the tension in his chest. Still, his mind was restless as he walked to his next class.
***
The soft buzz of his phone broke Midoriya’s focus halfway to the classroom. Quickly pulling it out, his heart skipped a beat as he saw Todoroki’s name light up the screen. Swiping it open, he read the short reply:
Snowflake ❄️: ‘it’s alright. I understand. Let’s have lunch together tomorrow.’
The corners of Midoriya’s lips lifted into a small smile. It wasn’t an elaborate response, but it carried warmth and understanding. It was just like Todoroki—not overly expressive, but enough to make Midoriya feel reassured.
Sliding into his seat in Class 1-C, he typed a quick reply:
‘Thank you, Shoto. I’ll see you tomorrow under the tree!’
Satisfied, he pocketed his phone, a weight lifting off his chest. Tomorrow, he would make things right.
***
As President Mic began the class, Midoriya found himself more focused than usual. His school notebook sat open on his desk, and he scribbled notes diligently. But in the back of his mind, thoughts of Todoroki lingered—his calm demeanor, the way he had brushed off Midoriya’s absence without a hint of anger. It made Midoriya admire him more, deepening the strange, obsessive pull he felt towards the boy.
‘Tomorrow has to be perfect.’ Midoriya thought. ‘Maybe I’ll bring his favorite food…..or something warm?’
As the lesson carried on, Midoriya began to jot down small notes in the corner of his page—not about math or English, but ideas for how to make tomorrow special.
Yet, by the time the class ended, his page was filled with half formed thoughts, hearts scribbled unconsciously in the margins.
The streets were quieter now, shadows stretching long as the sun dipped below the horizon. Midoriya walked briskly through the back alleys of the city, clutching his bag tightly. Hidden in the false bottom of one of its compartments was the flash drive he had risked so much to retrieve.
His heart thudded steadily in his chest, a mix of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through him as he approached the nondescript door that led to the hidden bar.
‘ Tomura will be pleased.’ Midoriya thought.
The ideas of earning his praise pushed away the residual ache from his mission.
The door creaked open as he entered, the dimly lit bar as in inviting as always. The air still thick with the smell of damp wood and old smoke.
Tomura sat in his usual spot, sprawling out on a tattered leather chair, his face illuminated by the blueish hue of his phone screen. Kurogiri was behind the bar, as always polishing glasses with deliberate precision. The faint hum of conversation between the two men cut off as they noticed Midoriya enter.
“Finally.” Tomura drawled, setting his phone down. His crimson eyes met Midoriya’s, a hint of impatience flickering behind them. “Took you long enough.”
Midoriya stepped forward, pulling the flash drive from its hiding spot in his bag. He held it out, letting Tomura’s gaze with quiet determination. “I got it.” He said, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.
Tomura’s lips curved into a sly smile as he took the drive, turning it over in his fingers like it was some trivial trinket. “Good.” He murmured, slipping it into his computer that lay next to him. “Let’s see if what you brought me is the real deal.”
Kurogiri tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes narrowing. “You handled the mission well, young Midoriya.” He said, his tone calm but approving.
“Thank you.” Midoriya spoke, bowing his head as a pink hue reached his cheeks. To be praised by the ones that gave him a meaning in life was everything to him.
***
Tomura leaned forward, gesturing for Midoriya to take a seat in the chair next to him. “Sit down.” He said, his tone casual but firm.
Midoriya obeyed, dropping into the chair and resting his bag on the floor. He watched as Tomura turned on his computer, the flash drive already in. The screen lit up, displaying files and documents Midoriya had barely glanced at during his infiltration.
“Not bad.” Tomura muttered, scrolling through the data. His sharp eyes scanned each folder quickly, a smirk tugged at his lips. “They really keep everything here, don’t they? Lists of patrol schedules, hero quirks, even event plans. Pathetic “
Kurogiri leaned over slightly, his foggy hands resting on the bar as he observed the screen. “This information will be useful for what’s to come.” He remarked.
Tomura turned his attention back to Midoriya, his smirk growing. “You’ve done well, kid. Looks like I didn’t overestimate you after all.”
The morning sun cast its warm glow over Musutafu, but Izuku Midoriya barely noticed as he walked toward U.A. High school, his bag slung casually over one shoulder. His green eyes were fixed on the path ahead, his mind buzzing with thoughts.
He felt the faint vibration of his phone in his pocket and instinctively reached for it, unlocking the screen to see yet another news headline about the recent media chaos orchestrated by Tomura. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he swiped the notification away.
Everything was progressing smoothly—almost too smoothly. Tomura had been pleased with his work, and Midoriya knew that gaining more intel would be critical. Yet, as much as he reveled in that satisfaction, there was something else lingering in the back of his mind: TODOROKI.
Pushing those thoughts aside for the moment, Midoriya stepped through the schools gates, blending into the crowd of students heading toward their respective classes. Whispers trailed behind him, as they always did, but he ignored them. He was used to being the subject of ridicule and scorn, the whispers and sneers from his peers who saw him as nothing more than “Quirkless.”
Today was no exception. He walked through the hallways with a practice indifference, his neutral expression giving nothing away. Inside, however, a storm was brewing, one he kept tightly contained beneath a calm exterior.
The first few classes of the day went by without incident. Midoriya sat near the window in Class 1-C, scribbling notes in his notebook while feigning attentiveness to the lesson. His true focus was elsewhere, the margins of his notebook filled with sketches and ideas for his villain costume.
The concept was beginning to take shape in his mind: something sleek, functional, and intimidating. He wanted it to reflect his resolve and the path he’d chosen, a far cry from the image of the helpless, quirkless boy his classmates thought they knew.
As class transitioned to a quiet study period, the atmosphere shifted. It started with a faint rustle of movement behind him, followed by the low murmur of voices. Midoriya felt the familiar prickle of unease as he sensed their attention on him.
“Hey, DEKU .” A voice drawled from behind, loud enough to catch the attention of a few nearby students.
Midoriya didn’t turn around, his pen continuing its steady movement across the page.
“Still pretending to take notes, huh? What’s the point? You’ll never be anything more than a quirkless loser.”
The words were met with scattered laughter from a small group of students sitting nearby. Midoriya kept his gaze firmly on his notebook, refusing to give them the reaction they wanted.
Another voice joined in, this one sharper and more mocking. “Seriously, what’s the point of even trying? It’s not like you’ll ever make it as a hero. Maybe you should just drop out and save yourself the embarrassment.”
The laughter grew louder, emboldened by his silence. One of them, a tall boy with spiky hair and an overconfident smirk, leaned forward and tapped on Midoriya’s desk. “Come on, DEKU , don’t ignore us. That’s rude you know.”
Midoriya finally glanced up, his green eyes meeting the boys with a calmness that belied the simmering anger beneath. “Is there something you need?” He asked, his tone even and unbothered.
The boy sneered, leaning closer. “Yeah, I need you to stop pretending you’ve better than us. You don’t have a quirk, and you never will. What are you going to do if a villain shows up? Cry for help like the useless nobody you are?”
The girl beside him laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “He probably thinks someone will save him. How pathetic.”
Midoriya’s grip on his pen tightened, the tip pressing into the paper hard enough to leave indentations. He forced himself to remain calm, even as their words echoed in his mind. They didn’t know anything—about him, about what he was capable of, about the power he wielded in the shadows. If they knew the truth, they wouldn’t dare speak to him this way. But they didn’t know, and that ignorance was their only protection.
He turned his attention back to his notebook, his pen moving in slow, deliberate strokes as he stretched out a new design for his costume. The bullies continued to jeer and mock him, their insults growing more vicious with every passing moment, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.
After what felt like an eternity, Midnight returned to the class, and the bullies finally fell silent. Midoriya exhaled quietly, his shoulders relaxing as the lesson resumed. Yet, even as he focused on the teachers words and diligently took notes, their voices lingered in his mind. Not because they hurt him—no, he was far beyond that—but because they fueled the fire within him.
He replayed their words in his head, memorizing their faces and names? cataloging every insult for later. He didn’t need to act on it now. Patience was a skills he’d honed to perfection, and he would bide his time. But when the moment came, they would regret ever crossing him.
***
Midoriya moved through the halls of U.A. High school, his usual spring in his step notably absent. He clutched his lunch tray with both hands, his gaze fixed downward as he navigated the bustling cafeteria. The noise of students chattering and laughing echoed around him, but it all felt muffled, as though he were moving underwater.
His mind kept circling back to the events of the morning. The taunts, the sneers, the biting laughter of his classmates were etched into his thoughts, simmering beneath the surface of his usual calm demeanor.
They didn’t know anything—nothing about him, about the strength he’d built, or the darkness he had embraced to ensure no one could ever belittle him again. But even with that knowledge, the weight of their words lingered, gnawing at him in a way he couldn’t quite shake.
Determined to focus on something else, anything else, Midoriya glanced around the cafeteria until his eyes landed on Todoroki sitting at a table near the window, not outside?
The sunlight streaming in seemed to frame him perfectly, making his dual-colored hair almost glow. Midoriya took a steadying breath and started toward him. He needed to make up for missing lunch the previous day. Todoroki deserved that, at the very least.
When Todoroki saw him approaching, his expression softened slightly, though his gaze remained as cool and unreadable as ever. He watched Midoriya with quiet intensity, his mismatch eyes tracking every movement as the smaller boy finally slid into the seat next to him. Midoriya set his tray down with deliberate care, avoiding Todoroki’s gaze as he opened his lunch.
“Midoriya.” Todoroki spoke, his voice calm but carrying a note of concern. “You look…..tired.”
Midoriya gave him a weak smile, shaking his head as he reached for his chopsticks. “I’m fine, Todoroki. Just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”
Todoroki tilted his head slightly, studying him in silence for a moment. “You’ve been off all morning. Did something happen?”
Midoriya froze for the briefest moment before forcing another smile. “Nothing happened. I guess I’m feeling a little out of it today. Don’t worry about me.”
Todoroki’s gaze lingered on him, sharp and assessing. Midoriya could feel the weight of it, the way Todoroki’s mismatched eyes seemed to pierce straight through him. He shifted uncontrollably under the scrutiny, keeping his head down as he focused on his lunch.
But Todoroki wasn’t convinced. He had noticed how Midoriya had been quieter than usual, how his normally bright eyed seemed dull, weighed down by something he wasn’t willing to share. And as he glanced over Midoriya’s shoulder, his gaze settled on a group of students from Class 1-C sitting a few tables away.
They weren’t being loud, but their furtive glances in Midoriya’s direction and the occasional muffled laughs were enough to set Todoroki on edge.
The air around him seemed to chill slightly as he stared at them, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t like the they looked at Midoriya, didn’t like the way their amusement seemed to come at his expense. His fingers twitched, the faintest spark of frost dancing across them before he reined it in.
For now, he wouldn’t act. Not yet. But the simmering protectiveness he felt for Midoriya was hard to ignore.
“Midoriya.” Todoroki said again, softer this time.
Midoriya finally looked up, his green eyes meeting Todoroki’s mismatched gaze. “Yeah?”
“If there’s something bothering you, you can tell me. You don’t have to handle everything on your own.”
The sincerity in Todoroki’s voice made Midoriya’s chest tighten. For a moment, he considered telling him everything—about the bullying, about the anger simmering just beneath his calm exterior, about how much he hated the way people treated him.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. He didn’t want to burden Todoroki with his problems, especially not when things between them had been going so well.
“I appreciate it, Todoroki.” Midoriya spoke finally, his voice quiet but steady. “Really, i do. But I’m okay. Promise.”
Todoroki didn’t look convinced, but he nodded, letting the subject drop for now. Still, his gaze flickered back to the group of students behind Midoriya, his expression darkening. He didn’t like them.
He didn’t like the way they seemed so amused at Midoriya’s expense, as though they thought they were better than him. It made his blood boil, and he had to clench his fists under the table to keep himself from reacting.
Midoriya noticed Todoroki’s clenched fists and frowned slightly. “Are you okay?” He asked, tilting his head in concern.
Todoroki relaxed his hands, forcing a small, reassuring smile. “I’m fine.” He said simply. “Just thinking about something.”
Midoriya nodded, accepting the answer for now, and the two of them returned to their lunches. But as they ate, Todoroki’s mind remained focused on the students behind Midoriya. He didn’t know what they had said or done to make Midoriya so down, but he would find out. And when he did, he would make sure they never hurt Midoriya again.
As they finished their lunches, Todoroki made a mental note to keep a closer eye on Midoriya, especially around his classmates. He wasn’t about to let anyone else harm him, not while he was around. He didn’t care what it took or who he had to deal with—Midoriya was his, and he would protect him, no matter what.
***
Todoroki glanced at Midoriya, his mismatched eyes filled with a calm determination. He reached out his hand without saying a word, palm open and waiting. Midoriya blinked in surprise for a moment before a soft smile crept onto his face.
He placed his smaller hand into Todoroki’s, feeling the warmth radiating from his touch. Todoroki’s grip was firm yet gentle as he laced their fingers together, and without another word, he began leading Midoriya out of the cafeteria.
Midoriya’s heart raced as they walked through the crowded hallways, their hands intertwined. He could feel the curious and envious gazes of other students on them, but for once, he didn’t care. All that mattered was the warmth of Todoroki’s hand in his and the steady, reassuring presence beside him.
It felt as though the rest of the world faded into the background, leaving just the two of them.
Todoroki walked at a calm pace, his usual stoic demeanor intact, but there was a subtle softness in the way he held Midoriya’s hand, as though he were silently promising to never let go. Midoriya felt a blush creeping up his cheeks, the warmth spreading through his entire body.
His heart thumped loudly in his chest, each beat echoed in his ears. He glanced up at Todoroki, wondering if the other boy could hear it too, but Todoroki’s expression remained calm and focused, his eyes fixed ahead.
As they neared Class 1-C, Todoroki suddenly slowed his pace, his grip on Midoriya’s hand tightening slightly. Midoriya tilted his head in confusion, looking up at him. “Todoroki?” He asked softly, his voice laced with curiosity.
Todoroki stopped just outside the classroom door, turning to face Midoriya fully. His intense gaze met Midoriya’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The hallways around them grew quieter as students filed into their respective classrooms, leaving the two of them alone in the lingering silence.
Todoroki raised his free hand, brushing a stray curl from Midoriya’s face, his fingers lingering against his cheek, the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down Midoriya’s spine, and he felt his blush deepen.
Todoroki’s lips curved into a faint, teasing smile as he leaned in slowly, his face inching closer to Midoriya’s.
Midoriya’s breath hitched, his heart pounding wildly as he stared wide-eyed at Todoroki.
For a moment, he thought Todoroki was going to kiss him, and he felt a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside him.
But just as their faces were mere inches away, Todoroki stopped, his teasing smile growing ever so slightly. Midoriya blinked in surprise, his breath still caught in his throat. Todoroki’s gaze held his for a moment longer before he leaned back, his hand dropping from Midoriya’s cheek. “You’re too easy to fluster, Midoriya.” He said, his tone soft but carrying a hint of amusement.
Midoriya let out a shaky laugh, his cheeks burning as he tried to compose himself. “T-Todoroki, you’re terrible.” He said, though there was no malice in his voice. He placed a hand over his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Todoroki’s expression softened further, and the corners of his lips quirked up in the faintest smile. “I wouldn’t let that happen.” He said simply, his voice steady and reassuring.
Feeling a surge of affection, Midoriya stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Todoroki in a warm hug, burying his face against his chest. Todoroki’s body stiffened for a brief moment before he relaxed, his arms coming up to rest gently around Midoriya’s back.
“Thank you.” Midoriya murmured softly, his voice muffled against Todoroki’s uniform. “For everything. For always making me feel better.”
Todoroki’s heart skipped a beat at Midoriya’s words, and he felt a warmth blooming in his chest: he tightened his hold on Midoriya slightly, as though silently telling him that he would always be there for him.
When Midoriya pulled back, his emerald eyes shining with gratitude, Todoroki felt his own cheeks grow warm.
Without thinking, Midoriya stood on his tiptoes and pressed a quick, light kiss to Todoroki’s cheek. The gesture was so unexpected and innocent that Todoroki’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
Midoriya stepped back, a shy smile on his face as he glanced down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I’ll see you later, Todoroki.” He spoke softly, his voice almost a whisper.
Todoroki stood frozen for a moment, his hand coming up to touch the spot where Midoriya’s lips had brushed against his cheek. A small flame flickered to life on the left side of his head, a testament to the emotions he was struggling to keep in check.
He quickly extinguished it, hoping no one had noticed, but the faint blush on his face was harder to hide. “Yeah.” He spoke finally, his voice quieter than usual. “See you later, Midoriya.”
As Midoriya stepped into his classroom, he glanced over his shoulder one last time, catching the faint smile that played on Todoroki’s lips. It made his heart swell, and he couldn’t help but smile back before disappearing into the room.
Todoroki watched the door behind him, his hands still resting against his cheek. His thoughts swirled with the memory of Midoriya’s shy smile and the soft kiss, and he felt his possessiveness toward the other boy deepen. Midoriya was his, and he would do whatever it took to protect him, no matter what.
***
As Midoriya made his way to his desk, the buzz of conversation filled the room. He settled into his seat, still feeling the lingering warmth of Todoroki’s hand in his own and the soft blush that hadn’t quite left his cheeks. His thoughts were a jumble, a mixture of Todoroki’s teasing, his promise to make things better, and the faint glow of affection that had overtaken him earlier.
Before he could lose himself entirely in his daydreams, President Mic’s energetic voice rang out, capturing the attention of the entire class. “Alright, class! Today we’re doing something exciting! We’re heading outside for combat training! Get ready to show me what you’ve got in a series of one-on-one battles!”
The room immediately erupted in a mixture of cheers and groans. Some students were clearly thrilled about the prospect of testing their skills, while others looked less enthusiastic.
Midoriya sat up straighter, his heart pounding slightly. Combat training meant an opportunity to observe the strengths and weaknesses of his classmates, but it also meant being under scrutiny. He would have to hold back, play his part as the quirkless underdog, but he couldn’t deny the surge of adrenaline coursing through him at the thought of the challenge ahead.
“Let’s not waste any time!” President Mic continued, clapping his hands for emphasis. “Head to the lockers, suit up, and meet me outside on the training grounds!” The students shuffled to their feet, some moving with excitement and others dragging their feet reluctantly.
Midoriya followed the crowd, his mind already turning over strategies. He needed to stay sharp, focus on keeping his cover intact while taking mental notes for future use.
The training grounds were a wide-open area, marked with various terrains to simulate real-world scenarios. There were rocky outcroppings, dense patches of trees, and open plains. President Mic stood in the center with his clipboard, a mischievous grin on his face. “Alright, everyone, listen up! The battles will be one-on-one, chosen at random. The goal is to either knock your opponent out of bounds, immobilize them, or force them to yield. Remember, this is a learning experience, so give it your all but don’t go overboard! Got it?”
The class responded with a mix of nods and affirmations, and the anticipation in the air grew thicker.
The first few matches were called, and the students watched intently as their classmates sparred. Each fight showcased a unique combination of quirks and strategies, with some students relying on brute strength and others on clever tactics.
Midoriya stood quietly at the edge of the group, observing each match with keen interest. He made mental notes of their quirks, strengths, and vulnerabilities, tucking the information away for later use.
When his name was finally called, paired against one of the more arrogant students who had mocked him earlier in the day, Midoriya stepped forward with an air of calm determination.
His opponent smirked confidently, clearly expecting an easy win. “Don’t worry, DEKU .” The boy sneered, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll make this quick.”
Midoriya forced a sheepish smile, playing into the facade of nervousness. “I’ll……do my best.” He said, his voice soft but steady. Inside, he was already formulating his plan. He couldn’t afford to reveal too much, but he also couldn’t let this opportunity slip by without leaving an impression.
President Mic raised his hand. “Alright, you two! Ready? Begin!”
His opponent wasted no time, activating his quirk, which allowed him to generate shockwaves with his fists. He charged at Midoriya, slamming his fists into the ground to send a wave of energy toward him.
Midoriya dodge nimbly, rolling to the side and keeping a safe distance. He analyzed the trajectory of the attack, noting the radius and force of the shockwaves. His opponent’s movements were powerful but lacked precision, leaving openings for counterattacks.
As the fight continued, Midoriya used his agility and quick thinking to stay one step ahead. He feigned clumsiness at times, stumbling slightly to sell the image of an inexperienced fighter.
His opponent grew increasingly frustrated, his attacks becoming wilder and less controlled. Midoriya saw his chance and capitalized on it, leading the boy into a dense patch of trees where his shockwaves were less effective.
Using the terrain to his advantage, Midoriya maneuvered around the trees, forcing his opponent to expend energy with every missed attack. He darted in and out of sight, keeping the boy on edge.
Finally, when his opponent overextended himself with a particularly powerful shockwave, Midoriya moved in. He didn’t attack directly but instead used the momentum of his opponent’s own quirk against him, tripping him and sending him tumbling out of bounds.
The match ended with President Mic announcing Midoriya as the winner. The crowd of students murmured in surprise, some impressed and others skeptical.
Midoriya returned to his spot among the group, brushing off the dirt on his uniform and keeping his expression neutral. Inside, he felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. He had managed to turn the odds in his favor without revealing too much, and the looks of shock on his classmates faces were an added bonus.
As the training session continued, Midoriya’s thoughts briefly drifted to Todoroki. He wondered if Todoroki had seen his match, if he had noticed the subtle strategy behind his actions. The thought made Midoriya’s heart race slightly, and he resolved to find Todoroki tomorrow to share the moment.
For now, though, he focused on watching the remaining matches, already planning his next move in the intricate web he was weaving.
Chapter 9: The spark of fury
Summary:
It's starting to heat up
Chapter Text
Midoriya sat at his desk, the early morning sun filtering through the classroom windows as President Mic enthusiastically began the lesson on exercise science. The topic was an interesting one, delving into the mechanics of the body movement, muscle dynamics, and how quirks could interact with physical fitness.
Midoriya, with his innate curiosity and sharp intellect, found himself fully engrossed. He diligently took notes, his handwriting near and meticulous, and listened carefully as President Mic explained the importance of muscle recovery and optimal training regimens.
Every now and then, President Mic would throw out a question to the class, and Midoriya’s hand shot up eagerly.
“Midoriya, what’s the primal benefit of dynamic stretching before physical activity?” President Mic asked, his animated voice cutting through the quiet.
Midoriya responded confidently. “Dynamic stretching helps improve flexibility, increases blood flow to the muscles, and reduces the risk of injuries by preparing the body for movement.”
“Correct!” President Mic beamed, clearly pleased. “You’ve got it down, kid! Pay attention, class—Midoriya’s setting an example here!”
Midoriya felt a small swell of pride but kept his expression composed. He wasn’t one to seek attention, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction of doing well academically. The lesson continued, and Midoriya stayed focus, soaking in every detail about anaerobic and anaerobic exercises, understanding how different quirks might place unique stress on the body.
A few murmurs of surprise rippled through the room. Despite being quirkless, Midoriya’s intelligence and dedication often set him apart. He sat back down, a small smile tugging at his lips. But even as the lesson progressed, a lingering unease settled in his chest.
The events of the previous day still weighed on him, the bruises and taunts relying on his mind.
When the bell rang for lunch, Midoriya quickly gathered his things and made his way to the cafeteria. Determined to make up for dragging down the mood for yesterday with Todoroki, he purchased their meals, carefully balancing the trays in his hands. As he scanned the room for Todoroki, he felt a familiar presence—one that made his stomach churn.
The bullies from yesterday stood in his path, their smirks widening as they saw him. “Well, well, DEKU . Still pretending to be something you’re not?” One of them sneered, blocking his way.
“Out of the way.” Midoriya spoke calmly, trying to step around them.
“Oh, what’s this? Lunch for your boyfriend?” Another teased, swiping at one of the trays. Midoriya’s grip tightened, but he didn’t respond, knowing it would only escalate things.
Unfortunately, his silence seemed to egg them on. One of the bullies deliberately bumped into him, sending the trays tumbling to the floor. Food splattered across the tiles, and the cafeteria seemed to grow quieter as heads turned toward the commotion.
Midoriya froze for a moment, staring at the mess before him. Something inside him snapped. He clenched his fists, his heart pounding with a mix of rage and humiliation.
Without thinking, he swung his fist and connected with the jaw of the nearby bully. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his knuckles, but the satisfying sound of the bully stumbling backward fueled his adrenaline.
The other bullies reacted instantly, launching themselves at Midoriya. The fight was chaotic and brutal. Midoriya dodged and countered as best he could, using his smaller frame and speed to his advantage.
He landed a few a solid punches and kicks, his years of observation and quiet training paying off. But the bullies were stronger and more numerous. A hard punch to his side knocked the wind out of him, and a kick to his leg sent him staggering.
The final blow came when one of them on his right foot with all their weight. A sickening crunch echoed in Midoriya’s ears, followed by a sharp, searing pain. He cried out, collapsing to the floor as tears blurred his vision. His foot throbbed unbearably, and he clutched at it, unable to move.
The bullies laughed cruelly, but their mirth was cut short by a sudden drop of temperature. The air grew icy, and a wave of intense heat followed, creating a sharp, unnatural contrast.
The cafeteria doors slammed open, and Todoroki stood there, his heterochromatic eyes blazing with fury. He took one look at Midoriya on the floor, clutching his injured foot, and something inside him snapped.
A fiery glow erupted on the left side of Todoroki’s body while frost spread on his right. He strode forward with deliberate, menacing steps, his gazed fixed on the bullies. “What did you do to him?” He demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
The bullied backed away, their confidence evaporating in the face of Todoroki’s cold rage. One of them stammered an apology, but Todoroki wasn’t listening.
With a flick of his wrist, flames erupted around them, licking dangerously close to their skin. He didn’t burn them completely, but the heat was enough to leave painful, blistering scars.
The bullies screamed, scrambling to escape the flames, but Todoroki’s icy glare held them in place. “Touch him again.” He spoke, his voice deadly calm. “And next time, I won’t hold back.”
Yet, before Todoroki could go any further, a loud voice cut through the chaos. “That’s enough!” Aizawa, President Mic and AllMight burst into the cafeteria, their expressions a mix of shock and anger.
Aizawa activated his quirk, nullifying Todoroki’s flames and ice, while AllMight moved to check on the injured students.
Todoroki reluctantly stepped back, his body still radiating heat as knelt beside Midoriya. “Are you okay?” He spoke softly, his voice trembling slightly.
Midoriya nodded weakly, his face pale from the pain. “I’ll be fine.” He managed to say, though his tears betrayed his words.
Aizawa’s stern voice cut through the tension in the cafeteria, his piercing gaze sweeping over the chaos. His eyes lingered on Midoriya, crumbled on the floor clutching his injured foot, and then shifted to Todoroki, whose body still radiated residual heat and cold.
The bullies had already been subdued, their faces pale with terror as they clutched their burns. Aizawa’s tone was firm as he addressed Todoroki. “Todoroki, take Midoriya to see Recovery Girl immediately. Once she’s checked him out, both of you report to my office. We’ll deal with the rest of this then.”
Todoroki nodded with hesitation, his focus entirely on Midoriya.
Midoriya tried to push himself up, but the sharp pain in his foot made him gasp, his arms shaking from the effort. Todoroki leaned closer, his expression softening. “Don’t move, Midoriya. You’ll only make it worse.”
Before Midoriya could protest, Todoroki slipped an arm under his knees and the other around his back, lifting him effortlessly into a bridal carry.
Midoriya’s face turned a deep shade of red, his heart pounding as he felt Todoroki’s strong arms supporting him. “T-Todoroki, I can walk.” He stammered, though the throbbing pain in his foot betrayed his words. Todoroki’s tone was calm but firm as he began walking towards the door. “You can’t even stand without wincing, Midoriya. Let me take care of you.”
As Todoroki carried him through the hallway, Midoriya felt a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. His hand instinctively clutched at Todoroki’s shirt, his face buried against his chest to hide his blush. The hallways were mostly empty, but a few students peeked out of their classrooms, their curious gazes following the pair.
Whispers spread quickly, but Todoroki paid no attention to them. His focus remained entirely on Midoriya, his jaw set with quiet determination.
Midoriya, despite the pain, couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at Todoroki’s closeness, the warmth radiating from his left side was comforting, contrasting with the icy determination in his gaze. “Thank you, Shouto.” Midoriya murmured softy, his voice barely above a whisper.
Todoroki glanced down at him, his expression softening for a moment. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing want any friend would do.” He replied, though the protective tone in his voice hinted at something deeper.
When they arrived at the nurses office, Recovery Girl looked up from her desk, her eyes widening as she saw the state Midoriya was in. “Goodness, what happened?” She asked, hurrying over.
Todoroki gently set Midoriya down on the examination bed, careful not to jostle his injured foot. “He was attacked by some classmates.” Todoroki explained, his voice tight with restrained anger. Recovery Girl shook her head, clicking her tongue disapprovingly as she examined Midoriya’s foot.
Midoriya winced as she carefully removed his shoe and sock, revealing the swollen, bruised fresh. “You’ve got a fractured foot and a partially torn ligament.” Recovery Girl spoke, her tone gentle but serious. “You’re lucky it’s not worse, but this will take time to heal.” She used her quirk to accelerate the healing process, the green glow of her ability washing over Midoriya’s foot.
While the fracture mended quickly, she explained that the ligament tear would require additional rest and care. “You’ll need to stay off this foot for a few days. I’ll give you crutches to help you get around, but if you stand on it for too long, it won’t heal and you’ll end up with a limp, be mindful dear.”
Midoriya nodded, his expression subdued as he absorbed her words. Todoroki stood nearby, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on Midoriya.
When Recovery Girl finished her work, she handed Midoriya the crutches and gave him a pointed look. “No overexerting yourself, young man. And I’ll be speaking with your teachers about what happened.”
Todoroki moved to help Midoriya again, but Midoriya shook his head, attempting to use the crutches on his own. The awkward motion and lingering pain made him stumble slightly, and Todoroki quickly caught him, his hands steadying Midoriya’s arms. “I told you to let me help.” Todoroki spoke, his tone soft but insistent.
Without waiting for a response, he scooped Midoriya up once more, earning another blush from his “FRIEND.”
“T-Todoroki, I can manage—“ Midoriya started, but Todoroki silenced him with a small, rare smile. “Humor me.” He spoke simply, carrying him out of the nurses office. The wall to Aizawa’s office was quiet, save for the faint sound of Midoriya’s nervous breathing and the steady rhythm of Todoroki’s footsteps.
Midoriya’s heart raced as he clung to Todoroki, the earlier pain overshadowed by the warmth and security of being in his arms.
As they approached Aizawa’s office, Todoroki glanced down at Midoriya’s. “When this is over, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of properly.” He spoke, his voice low but filled with conviction. Midoriya nodded, his blush deepening as he whispered, “Thank you, Todoroki. For everything.”
***
Todoroki carefully pushed open the door to Aizawa’s office, stepping inside with Midoriya still leaning on him for support. The room dimly lit, with Aizawa sitting at his desk, his expression stern as his sharp eyes darted to the pair.
Beside him stood President Mic, his arms crossed with a mixture of disappointment and concern on his face.
Principal Nezu was perched on a small chair near the corner of the desk, his small creature stature belying the sharp intelligence in his gaze. The tension in the room was palpable as the door closed behind them, and Midoriya shifted uncomfortably on his crutches, Todoroki staying close by his side.
“Sit.” Aizawa spoke curtly, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk.
Todoroki helped ease Midoriya into one of the chairs, and he took the one next to him, his expression calm but his hand subtly reaching out to rest on Midoriya’s. The contact was gentle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a wave of warmth through Midoriya despite the heavy atmosphere in the room.
Aizawa leaned forward, resting his elbows in the desk, his sharp eyes locked onto Todoroki first. “Todoroki, what you did in the cafeteria today was reckless and unacceptable. You’re here to learn to be a hero, not to use your quirk to harm others out of anger. No matter the situation, you’re expected to maintain control. If you can’t, then you’re no better than the bullies you confronted.”
Todoroki’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “I understand, Mr. Aizawa. But they were hurting Midoriya—“
“I don’t care what they were doing.” Aizawa interrupted, his tone firm. “You don’t escalate situations like that, especially in a public setting. There are procedures in place for dealing with conflicts. You’re expected to set an example, not make things worse.”
Todoroki didn’t argue further, but his hand tightened slightly around Midoriya’s. Midoriya glanced at him, a mixture of gratitude and guilt flickering in his eyes as he listened to the reprimand.
President Mic then shifted his attention to Midoriya, his usual boisterous demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness.
“And you, Midoriya.” President Mic began, his voice steady but firm. “Why didn’t you ask for help? You’ve got teachers, staff, and even classmates who could have stepped in. Instead, you chose to take matters into your own hands, and now look where it’s gotten you. A fractured foot, torn ligaments, and an entire cafeteria in an uproar. What were you thinking?”
Midoriya bit his lip, his fists clenched slightly around the handles of his crutches. He could feel the weight of their gazes on him, but he kept his expression neutral, swallowing down the mix of anger and embarrassment that simmered beneath the surface. “I didn’t want to bother anyone.” He said quietly, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “And I didn’t escalate anything. I was defending myself.”
Aizawa’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could respond, Midoriya continued, his voice growing firmer. “I’ve been dealing with this for years—people treating me like I’m less than them because I’m quirkless. I’ve tried to ignore it, to rise above it, but sometimes….. sometimes you have to stand up for yourself. I wasn’t going to just let them walk all over me. If that makes me wrong, then so be it.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, Aizawa studying Midoriya’s face for a long moment before leaning back in his chair.
President Mic raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’ve got guts, kid. I’ll give you that. But this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. We’ll be contacting your parents, both of you.” He spoke, his gaze flickering between Midoriya and Todoroki.
At that, Midoriya felt his heart sink slightly. The thought of his mother worrying over this made him feel a pang of guilt, and he glanced down at his lap.
Todoroki, however, remained calm, his hand still holding Midoriya’s. “That’s fine.” Todoroki spoke simply, his tone even. “But I stand by what I did. If protecting Midoriya means taking the consequences, then I’ll accept them.”
President Mic’s smirk widened slightly, though his tone remained serious. “You two are really something, huh? Holding hands like that, standing up for each other. Adorable, really. But let’s keep the PDA to a minimum while we’re discussing disciplinary matters, yeah?”
Midoriya’s face turned brought red at the comment, and he quickly tried to pull his hand away, but Todoroki didn’t let go. Instead, Todoroki glanced at President Mic, his expression unchanging. “I’m not letting go.” He spoke firmly, earning a surprised laugh from the teacher.
“Well, aren’t you bold?” President Mic spoke, leaning back with a grin. Principal Nezu, who had been quietly observing the interaction, finally spoke up, his voice calm but carrying a weight of authority.
“The situation in the cafeteria was unfortunate, and while there are consequences to consider, I hope you both understand the importance of communication and restraint. We want all our students to feel safe and supported here. Midoriya, if you’re being bullied, you must let someone know. And Todoroki, your loyalty is commendable, but your actions must align with your goals as a hero. You have potential—both of you do. Don’t squander it.”
The weight of Nezu’s words settle over them, and Midoriya nodded slowly, his grip on his crutches tightening. “I understand.” He spoke quietly, glancing up at Todoroki. “I’ll do better.”
Todoroki gave a small nod as well, his expression softening slowly as he looked at Midoriya. “So will I.”
***
The tension in Aizawa’s office was thick as the conversation wrapped up. Aizawa leaned back in his chair, reaching for his phone. “Todoroki, Midoriya, we’ve informed you of the consequences. Now, I need to contact Endeavor regarding Todoroki’s actions. Mic will handle contacting Midoriya’s mother. You both stay seated until further notice.” His voice was calm but carried an edge that made it clear he expected compliance.
President Mic picked up his phone, shooting a glance at Midoriya. “Inko’s a sweet lady, but this is going to break her heart. Let’s hope she doesn’t chew me out too much.” He muttered with a small smirked, though his usual levity was dampened by the situations gravity.
Midoriya’s stomach churned as President Mic began dialing. He could hear the faint ringing of the phone, and when his mother answered, her warm, concerned voice made his chest ache. “Hello, Mrs. Midoriya?”
President Mic began, his tone softening. “This is Yamada from U.A. High school. I’m calling about an incident involving Izuku today. He’s not in any serious trouble, but there are a few things we need to discuss.”
As President Mic explained, Midoriya glanced at Todoroki, who sat stiffly beside him. Todoroki’s hand remained holding his, as his other hand clenched into a fist, staring at the desk.
Aizawa, meanwhile, had already connected with Endeavor, his voice clipped as he relaying the situation.
From across the room, Midoriya could hear Endeavor’s booming voice through the phone, growing louder with each exchange. His words were sharp and condescending, and even from a distance, Midoriya felt the weight of his anger pressing against Todoroki like a suffocating force.
It didn’t take long for Endeavor to arrive. The door to Aizawa’s office opened abruptly, revealing the towering figure of the Number Two Hero. His presence was as suffocating as his voice, and his fiery glare swept over the room before landing squarely on Todoroki.
Without a word, Endeavor gestured for Todoroki to follow him into the hallway.
Todoroki rose silently, his expression unreadable, as he followed his father out, leaving Midoriya behind.
Midoriya’s heart pounded as the door closed. The room was now quiet except for the low murmur of President Mic continued to talk to his mother.
Aizawa was focused on some paperwork, leaving Midoriya free to glance toward the door. Something gnawed at him—an unease that grew stronger with each passing second.
He shifted in his seat, carefully leaning forward to peek out the narrow crack in the door.
What he saw made his blood boil.
Endeavor stood towering over Todoroki in the hallway, his face twisted with anger. Hid voice was low but venomous, the words too muffled to make out clearly.
Todoroki stood rigidly, his head slightly bowed, though his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. Midoriya’s breath caught as Endeavor suddenly raised his hand, the movement swift and brutal. The sharp crack of the slap echoed faintly through the hallway, and Todoroki staggered slightly but didn’t flinch.
Rage bubbled inside Midoriya, his grip on the edge of his chair tightening until his knuckles turned white. How dare that man lay a hand on Todoroki?
His obsession burned hotter, consuming any rational thought as he watched Endeavor continue to berate him. Midoriya’s smile swirled with dark thoughts, the desire to protect Todoroki at all costs growing stronger with passing second.
Behind him, President Mic finished his call, his cheerful tone returning. “Alright, Midoriya, your mom’s on her way to pick you up. She’s worried, but she’s glad you’re not seriously hurt.” He glanced at Midoriya, frowning slightly when he saw the intense look on his face. “You okay, kid?”
Midoriya forced himself to straighten, plastering on a smile. “Yes, sir. Just…. thinking about everything that happened today.”
Moments later, the door opened again, and Todoroki stepped back inside, his expression carefully neutral. Midoriya’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the faint redness of Todoroki’s cheek, and his fists clenched tightly against his crutches.
Endeavor followed behind him, his fiery gaze sweeping over the room with veiled contempt.
Midoriya could feel the tension radiating from Todoroki as he returned to his seat.
Before anyone could speak, the door opened once more, and Inko Midoriya stepped inside, her face a mixture of worry and relief. “Izuku!” She called softly, rushing to his side. She crouched down, examining him carefully as she fretted over his injuries. “Are you okay? What happened? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
“I’m fine, Mom.” Midoriya assured her, his tone gentle but distracted. His attention kept flickering to Todoroki, who sat stiffly, avoiding Endeavor’s gaze.
As they prepared to leave, Midoriya leaned closer to Todoroki, his voice soft. “Thank you for everything today, Todoroki.” His words were sincere, but hushed next action was anything but innocent.
He leaned up, pecking Todoroki lightly on the cheek, his lips brushing the faint redness left by Endeavor’s hand.
Todoroki’s eyes widened slightly, a faint blush creeping onto his face, but before he could react, Midoriya stepped back, a devious smile curling on his lips as he turned to look at Endeavor. The older man’s glare burned into him, but Midoriya didn’t falter.
Instead, he let the moment linger, his expression calm but his eyes glinting with defiance.
“Let’s go, Mom.” He said cheerfully, turning to follow her out the room. But as he left, his mind already working, plans forming for how he would deal with Endeavor—and anyone else who dared hurt Todoroki—once and for all.
***
The walk home was steeped in silence, the only sounds the rhythmic tap of Inko’s footsteps and the occasional soft click of Midoriya’s crutches against the pavement. The autumn wind rustled the trees around them, and though the air was crisp, neither seemed to notice.
Inko kept glancing at her son, worry etched deeply into every line of her face. Her hands trembled slightly, gripping her purse so tightly her knuckles whitened.
Midoriya, limped slightly with every step, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression unreadable.
When they reached their apartment building, Inko moved quickly, fumbling with her keys before unlocking the door.
She stepped inside, turning to help Midoriya through the threshold. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, her composure shattered. “Izuku!” She cried, her voice trembling with emotion. She dropped her bag onto the counter and rushed to him, her small hands fluttering in the air as though unsure whether to touch him or hold him.
Tears welled in her green eyes, spilling over as she grabbed his shoulders gently. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say anything about being bullied?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her worry evident as her tears began to fall in earnest.
Midoriya froze, startled by the intensity of her reaction. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, his crutches creaking slightly as he adjusted his grip. “Mom….” He began softly, looking down at the floor. His voice subdued, tinged with guilt. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Not worry me?” Inko repeated, her voice rising slightly as her emotions spilled over. “Izuku, you’re my son! How could I not worry when something like this happens? You’re hurt, and you’ve been dealing with this alone?” Her hands tightened on his shoulders, shaking him gently as her own body trembled. “I’m your mother! You should have told me!”
Midoriya looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I thought I could handle it.” He admitted after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to bother with it. You already have so much to deal with, and I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of myself.”
Inko’s tears fell faster at his words. She shook her head, her hands moving to cup his face gently, forcing him to look at her. “Izuku, you don’t have to take care of yourself alone. You’re not alone, do you hear me?” Her voice cracked again, and she pulled him into a tight hug, careful of his injuries but holding him as if afraid he might disappear.
“You’re my baby boy. I don’t care what I have on my plate—you’re my priority. Always, please don’t ever hide something like this from me again.”
The raw emotion in her voice broke through Midoriya’s resolve, and his own eyes began to sting with tears. He hugged her back as best as he could, his crutches making the gesture awkward but no less heartfelt. “I’m sorry, Mom.” He murmured into her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
Inko pulled back just enough to look at him, her tear-streaked face softened. “Promise me, Izuku. Promise me you’ll come to me if something like this happens again. I need to know you’re okay.”
“I promise.” Midoriya spoke earnestly, meeting her gaze with watery green eyes.
Satisfied with his response, Inko wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, though her worry lingered in the furrow of her brow. She guided him to the couch, insisting he sit and rest while she prepared dinner. “You’re not moving a muscle until you’ve eaten.” She said firmly, though her voice was still gentle.
Midoriya sat down, leaning back against the cushions with a sigh. His body ached, but it was nothing compared to the storm of emotions swirling in his chest.
He stared at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day over and over in his mind. His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar buzz of his phone in his pocket.
He pulled it out, and his heart lifted slightly when he saw the name in the screen.
Snowflake ❄️: ‘Hey, are you okay? I’ve been worried about you.’
A small smile tugged on Midoriya’s lips, the concern in Todoroki’s message warming him. He quickly typed a response.
‘I’m okay. A little sore, but nothing too bad. Thanks for checking on me.’
The reply came almost instantly.
Snowflake ❄️: ‘Good. I’m glad. But there’s something I wanna ask…..do you wish to come to a carnival opening up this weekend? Just the two of us? I just…..need to get away from my old man.’
Midoriya’s eyes widened, his cheeks beating as he reread the message. His heart skipped a beat, a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness, making his hands tremble slightly. He could hardly believe what he was reading.
Finally, after a few moments of staring at the screen, he managed to type a reply.
‘That sounds amazing! I’d love to go. What time?’
Todoroki’s responds was immediate.
Snowflake ❄️: ‘Noon. I’ll pick you up. Make sure to rest until then. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Midoriya set his phone down, his face flushed but a genuine smile spread across his lips. The heaviness of the day seemed to lift slightly, replaced by a spark of happiness.
For the first time in what felt like ages, clutching his phone to his chest. This weekend, for once, felt like it held the promise of something good.
***
The soft hum of the television in the living room filtered into the quiet apartment as the evening settled into night. The scent of the warm miso soup and freshly grilled fish drifted from the kitchen, where Inko busied herself playing dinner.
She glanced toward the hallway, her expression still tinged with worry, though as she tried to mask it with a gentle smile. “Izuku, dinner’s ready!” She called, her voice soft but filled with maternal warmth.
In his room, Midoriya sat on the edge of his bed, one crutch propped up against the wall and his injured foot elevated on a cushion. His room was dimly lit, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the shelves filled with notebooks and AllMight memorabilia.
His phone rested in his hand, the screen lighting up as he scrolled through messages, his thoughts swirling. Todoroki’s earlier texts still lingered in his mind, the promise of the weekend carnival brining a faint smile to his face despite the ache in his foot.
“Izuku?” Inko’s voice called again, this time with a hint of concern.
He quickly shook himself from his thoughts, replying. “Coming, Mom!” With some effort, he reached for his crutches and hobbled into the kitchen, where the table was set for two.
Inko hovered nervously, pulling out his chair and helping him sit down despite his protests that he could manage.
Eat up, sweetheart.” She said, placing a steaming bowl of soup in front of him. Her hands lingered on his shoulder for a moment before she returned to her seat. “You need to keep your strength up, especially with that injury.”
Midoriya nodded, murmuring a soft “thank you” before digging into his mean. The warmth of the soup soothed him, and for a moment, he let himself relax under the comforting presence of his mother.
Inko watched him eat, her gaze soft but still tinged with that same worry she’d carried since they returned home.
After dinner, Midoriya thanked his mom again and made his way back to his room, careful not to put too much weight on his injured foot. He settled onto his bed, exhaling deeply as he reached for his phone.
His fingers hesitated over the screen before finally pulling up Tomura’s contact and pressing the call button.
The line rang twice before Tomura’s gruff voice answered. “What’s up, kid? Did you manage to survive the day without screwing up?”
Midoriya sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the sarcasm. “Barely.” He replied, leaning back against the headboard. “It’s been…. eventful.”
“Oh? Do tell.” Tomura drawled, his tone laced with curiosity and amazement.
Midoriya hesitated for a moment, then launched into an explanation of the days events. He told Tomura about the bullying, the fight, and the injury, keeping his voice calm despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “I managed to hold my own for a while, but they were stronger than I thought.” He admitted, his voice dropping slightly.
“One of them fractured my foot and tore a ligament. Recovery Girl patched me up the best she could, but it’ll take some time to fully heal.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Tomura chuckled darkly. “Well, aren’t you just a magnet for trouble. You really need to work on not getting yourself beat up by a bunch of nobodies. What kind of future villain lets himself get taken down like that?”
Midoriya bristled slightly but bit back a retort, knowing better than to rise to Tomura’s bait. Instead, changed the subject, his voice growing softer as he spoke. “Something else happened today. I……I kissed Todoroki.”
The line went silent for a moment before Tomura let out a low, exaggerated whistle. “Well, well, look at you, kid. Making moves, are we? I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“It wasn’t like that!” Midoriya protested quickly, his face heating as he recalled the moment. “It was just a small peck on his cheek. I.. I dont even know why I did it. It just happened.”
Tomura’s laugh crackled through the phone, sharp and teasing. “A small peck, huh? And here I thought you’d be too chicken to do anything. What’s next? Holding hands in public? Whispering sweet nothings under the moonlight?
Midoriya groaned, pressing a hand to his face. “Can you be serious for one second, Tomura?”
“Fine, fine.” Tomura spoke, though his amusement was still evident. “But let me remind you of something, kid. We need Todoroki. He’s more than just your little crush—he’s a valuable piece in our game. If you want to break down the heroes, you’re going to need him on our side. Don’t forget that.”
Midoriya’s expression grew more serious, his grip tightened on his phone. “I haven’t forgotten.” He said quietly.
“Good.” Tomura replied, his tone shifting back to usual gruffness. “Now, focus on healing up. You’re no use to me if you’re limping around like a wounded puppy. Once you’re back on your feet, I have a surprise waiting for you at the bat. Something to help you on the mission.”
“A surprise?” Midoriya asked, his curiosity piqued.
“You’ll see.” Tomura spoke, his voice holding a hint of mystery. “Just don’t keep me waiting too long, kid. We’ve got bigger plans, and I expect you to be ready.”
The call ended with a click, leaving Midoriya staring at his phone. He exhaled deeply, his mind racing with thoughts of Todoroki, the bullies, and the mysterious plans Tomura had in store. Despite the ace ache in his foot and the weight of the day, a determined glint sparked in his eyes. Whatever lay ahead, he would be ready.
Chapter 10: A calm day
Summary:
A little fluff for what's gonna happen soon :)
Chapter Text
The sun hung high in the sky, casting its golden rays over the quiet neighborhood as Saturday noon stretched lazily into the afternoon. The Midoriya household was calm, save for the occasional clicking of dishes in the kitchen where Inko was preparing for the day.
The soft hum of her voice floated through the home, soothing and warm. She had just finished wrapping a bento box for Midoriya when the gentle sound of a knock echoed from the front door.
Quickly wiping her hands on her apron, she made her way to answer it, her face lighting up at the sight of Todoroki Shouto standing on her doorstep.
Todoroki was as composed as ever, but Inko, with her keen motherly instincts, noticed the subtle signs of fatigue on his face. There was a heaviness to his eyes, a stiffness to his movements, and faint bruises marred the otherwise flawless skin of his cheek.
Still, he stood with an air of quiet confidence, his dual-colored hair gleaming in the sunlight. “Oh, Todoroki! You’re here to pick up Izuku, aren’t you? Please, come in.” She said warmly, stepping aside to let him in.
“Thank you.” Todoroki replied politely, inclining his head slightly as he entered. His mismatched eyes scanned the cozy interior, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm wash over him. The Midoriya household had an inviting warmth to it, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile atmosphere of his own home.
At that moment, the sound of light footsteps defending the stairs drew his attention, and he turned just in time to see Midoriya making his way down.
Midoriya dressed simply but elegantly, wearing a crisp white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and a pair of fitted dark jeans. The outfit was casual but suited him perfectly, accentuating his lean figure. He moved carefully, balancing on his crutches as his injured foot was still wrapped tightly.
For a brief moment, their eyes met, and the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.
Todoroki’s gaze lingered, taking in every detail of Midoriya’s appearance, and something flickered in his expression—an unspoken admiration that he didn’t bother to hide. Midoriya froze mid-step under the intensity of Todoroki’s stare, his heart skipping a beat as a faint blush spread across his cheeks. His grip on his crutches tightened as he quickly looked away, his usual nervous energy bubbling to the surface.
“Oh, Izuku!” Inko cheerful voice broke the spell, and both boys seemed to snap back to reality. “You look so handsome today! Let me grab the lunch I packed for you two.” She hurried into the kitchen, leaving the pair alone in the living room.
Midoriya cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “Hey, Shouto.” He spoke softly, his voice carrying a mix of shyness and warmth. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It’s fine.” Todoroki replied, his tone steady but his eyes fixed on Midoriya. “Are you feeling okay? You shouldn’t be pushing yourself if your foot still hurts.”
“I’m fine, Shouto.” Midoriya assured him quickly, offering a small smile. “I’ve been looking forward to today. Don’t worry about me.” His voice was meant to reassure, but Todoroki’s furrowed brow suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Inko returned moments later, handing the neatly wrapped bento box to Midoriya. “Here you go, sweetie. It’s not much, but it should be enough for the two of you. Have fun, and don’t overdo it with your foot, okay?” She spoke, her motherly concern evident in her voice.
“Thanks, Mom.” Midoriya replied, his smile softening as he accepted the lunch.
As Inko turned back to the kitchen, busying herself with her other tasks, Midoriya glanced at Todoroki once more. His sharp eyes caught the faint bruising on Todoroki’s cheek and the subtle stiffness in his movements.
His concern deepened when he noticed the edge of a bandage peeling from under Todoroki’s collar.
Midoriya bit his lip, feeling a pang of guilt for not noticing sooner. He reached for the small bag he prepared earlier, which contained his medical supplies. Slipping it over his shoulder, he made a metal note to address Todoroki’s injuries later.
As they stepped out of the house, the afternoon sun greeted them warmly.
Midoriya adjusted his crutches, his movements deliberate but slightly labored.
Todoroki walked close beside him, his free hand hovering near Midoriya’s arm, ready to offer support if needed. But when their hands brushed accidentally, Todoroki’s hesitated for only a moment before intertwining their fingers. His grip was firm yet gentle, and Midoriya’s face flushed at the unexpected contact.
“Shouto.” Midoriya mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced up at Todoroki, his green eyes wide with surprise.
Todoroki didn’t say anything, but the faint hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked straight ahead.
Midoriya gave his hand a squeeze, his heart pounding in his chest. The simple gesture filled him with a warmth that momentarily made him forget the dull ache in his foot.
As they walked slowly toward the carnival, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet rhythm of their footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Midoriya stole glances at Todoroki, his concern for his “friends” injuries gnawing at him.
“Shouto.” He began tentatively, breaking the comfortable silence. “Are you…..okay? I mean, I noticed—your cheek, your arm….” He trailed off, unsure how to phrase his concern without prying too much.
Todoroki’s expression didn’t change, but there was a slight pause before he replied. “It’s nothing.” He said calmly. “Don’t worry about it.”
Midoriya frowned but chose not to push the issue. Instead, he squeezed Todoroki’s hand again, silently bowing to find a way to help him, whether he wanted it or not.
As they continued their slow walk to the carnival, Midoriya’s thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—concern for Todoroki, frustration over his own injured foot, and a deep, growing warmth for the boy walking beside him.
***
The carnival stretched before them in a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and scents that were entirely new to Midoriya. The vibrant banners fluttered in the breeze, and the air was thick with the sugary aroma of cotton candy mixed with the enticing smell of fried food.
Laughter and chatter from excited visitors blended with the cheerful melodies of carnival music, creating an atmosphere that was both overwhelming and exhilarating.
Midoriya’s wide green eyes sparkled as he took it all in, his crutches slowing his pace but not hid enthusiasm. He craned his neck to see everything, the flashing lights from the game booths, the towering Ferris wheel in the distance, and the merry-go-round spinning gracefully nearby. His heart thudded in his chest, a mixture of excitement and the sheer novelty of it all.
“I’ve never been to a carnival before.” Midoriya admitted, glancing up at Todoroki with a shy smile. His cheeks flushed slightly as he adjusted his grip on the bunny-shaped medical bag slung over his shoulder. “It’s so…….lively. There’s so much to do.”
Todoroki’s mismatched eyes softened as he watched Midoriya. There was something captivating about the way Midoriya’s face lit up, his usual focus and intensity replaced with childlike wonder.
He didn’t say anything at first, allowing the moment to linger as they stood at the edge of the bustling grounds.
Then, with a small tilt of his head, Todoroki gestured toward one of the game booths. “Let’s start there.” He spoke, his voice calm and steady as always.
Midoriya followed Todoroki’s gaze to see a simple ring toss game set up under a red-striped tent. Rows of colorful glass bottles glistened under the overhead lights, each one carefully arranged to entice players into trying their luck.
Behind the counter, a wall of plushies in all shapes and sizes hung proudly, their soft forms calling to anyone who dared to win them.
Midoriya’s eyes lingered on the display, his attention caught by a small, fluffy bunny plush that sat near the center. It was white with floppy ears and bright black button eyes, and something about it made his heart flutter.
Todoroki noticed immediately. Without a word, he gently guided Midoriya toward the booth, his hand brushing against Midoriya’s back to steady him.
The attendant greeted them with a wide smile, explaining the rules in a practiced but friendly tone. Todoroki listened carefully before handing over the required tickets, his expression unreadable but his determination evident.
Midoriya watched as Todoroki took his position, his movements measured and precise.
Todoroki picked up the first ring and aimed carefully, his sharp gaze calculating the distance and angle needed. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the ring, and it landed perfectly around the neck of a bottle. Midoriya gasped softly, his admiration for Todoroki growing as he watched him repeat the process with the same quiet confidence.
By the end of the game, Todoroki had won enough points to claim the prize.
The attendant handed over the bunny plushie with a congratulatory cheer, and Todoroki immediately turned to Midoriya, holding it out to him. “Here.” He spoke simply, his voice as calm as ever but his eyes filled with a gentle warmth.
Midoriya’s breath hitched as he reached out to take the plushie, his fingers brushing against Todoroki’s briefly. The soft texture of the bunny’s fur felt comforting against his skin, and he hugged it tightly to his chest, his face heating up as a bright blush spread across his cheeks. “Thank you, Shouto.” He murmured, his voice barely audible over the carnival noise. His heart raced, both from the gesture itself and from the way Todoroki’s gaze lingered on him.
“You’re welcome.” Todoroki replied, his tone steady but his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. He didn’t look away, his mismatched eyes drinking in the sight of Midoriya happy, especially knowing he had been the one to make it happen.
Unbeknownst to the other carnival-goers, a third presence lingered nearby. Chessur, with his sleek grey fur and glowing golden eyes, perched invisibly on a nearby tent pole, his tail swishing lazily as he observed the pair. The Cheshire-like feline watched with a knowing grin, his gaze shifting between Midoriya and Todoroki.
To anyone else, Chessur was nothing more than a faint blur in the periphery, but to Midoriya and Todoroki, his form was clear as day. He tilted his head, his grin widening as if amused by the growing bond between the two.
Midoriya noticed Chessur out of the corner of his eye, and his heart swelled with a strange mix of emotions. Chessur’d presence felt like a quiet reminder of the duality in his life—the light and the dark, the hero he pretended to be and the villain he had become.
For now, though, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the warmth of the moment and the soft plushie in his arms.
Todoroki stepped closer, his hand brushing against Midoriya’s once more. “What do you want to do next?” He asked, his voice soft but with an undertone of care that made Midoriya’s cheeks flush even deeper.
“I-I’m not sure.” Midoriya stammered, his mind still reeling from the overwhelming kindness Todoroki had shown him. “Maybe we could…… explore a bit?”
Todoroki nodded, his hand gently resting on the small of Midoriya’s back again as he guided him through the carnival, Chessur silently following above them like a guardian shadow.
The day had just begun, and already, it felt like something magical was unfolding between them.
***
The carnival stretched on endlessly as the hours passed, each ride, game, and snack stand offering its own brand of excitement.
Midoriya and Todoroki spent their day diving headfirst into the festivities, their initial awkwardness melting away into easy laughter and genuine enjoyment. The duo began with a carousel, choosing a bright green horse while Todoroki settled on a sleek silver one beside him.
As the ride spun, the gentle music and twinkling lights made the world feel softer, and Midoriya found himself smiling so brightly his cheeks ached.
Todoroki’s usual stoic demeanor softened as well, his rare smiles enough to make Midoriya’s heart race.
From there, they explored the carnival further, stopping by a cotton candy stand.
Todoroki purchased a massive pink cloud of spun sugar, handing it to Midoriya without hesitation. Midoriya tore off a piece and offered it to Todoroki, who accepted it with a slight blush.
Watching Todoroki’s usual serious face light up at the sweet taste made Midoriya laugh, a sound that wanted him a quiet chuckle from Todoroki in return.
Their next stop was a roller coaster that towered over the carnival. Midoriya hesitated at first, glancing nervously at the towering loops and steep drops, but Todoroki placed a reassure hand in his shoulder. “I’ll sit next to you.” He spoke simply, his steady gaze offering comfort.
With Todoroki’s support, Midoriya found the courage to climb aboard.
As the coaster roared through its twists and turns, Midoriya’s laughter mixed with screams of exhilaration.
Todoroki remained calm throughout, but the rare moments when he raised his hands during a drop or let a small smile escape showed he was enjoying himself just as much.
Between rides, they indulged in all the carnival food they could handle, Todoroki swiping Endeavor’s credit card for every treat Midoriya eyed. Hot dogs piled high with toppings, cheesy nachos, buttery popcorn, and churros dusted with cinnamon and sugar filled their afternoon.
Todoroki even bought a funnel cake topped with strawberries and whipped cream, insisting they share it.
Midoriya couldn’t help but giggle at how uncharacteristically carefree Todoroki seemed, a side of him that felt private and special.
They stopped by more game booths, Todoroki effortlessly wining prizes at nearly every one. He seemed particularly determined whenever Midoriya admired a specific plushie or trinket, his precision and calm focus leaving the booth attendants in awe.
By the end of the day, Midoriya was carrying an armful of prizes, his favorite being a large green dragon Todoroki won for him at a dart-throwing game. “You really didn’t have to win all these.” Midoriya spoke, his face red from both exertion and gratitude. Todoroki only shrugged. “You like them. That’s enough reason.”
As the day transitioned from evening, the carnival seemed to glow brighter as night fully enveloped the sky, the lights shimmered like stars scattered across the ground. Every attraction, game, and booth buzzed with life, but nothing captivated Midoriya as much as the prospect of riding the Ferris wheel with Todoroki.
After a long day of laughter, food, and games, the towering wheel felt like the perfect way to cap their outing. The thought of being so high up, away from the noise and crowds, made Midoriya’s heart flutter with nervous excitement.
They approached the Ferris wheel together, Todoroki walking close to Midoriya, his hand resting lightly on the small of Midoriya’s back to steady him.
Midoriya, leaning on his crutches with his injured foot carefully wrapped, found comfort in Todoroki’s silent support. Though his foot ached from the days activities, he didn’t regret a single moment.
Todoroki had made sure to keep a slow pace throughout the day, never letting Midoriya feel rushed or left behind, even when the crowds grew thicker or the games took longer than expected.
The Ferris wheel operator greeted them with a welcoming smile, guiding them toward an empty gondola.
Todoroki offered his hand to Midoriya, helping him step inside and settle into the cushioned bench. Once Midoriya was seated, Todoroki followed, taking the spot beside him. The gondola door clicked shut, and the quiet hum filled the air as the wheel began its slow ascent
As the gondola lifted higher, the world outside transformed. The carnival stretched below them, a kaleidoscope of bright lights and swirling colors.
Beyond the carnival grounds, the city skyline sparkled, its towering buildings outlined in golden hues against the velvety night.
Midoriya pressed his palms to the glass, his wide emerald eyes drinking in the view. “Wow.” He breathed, his voice barely audible over the gentle creak of the wheel. “It’s so beautiful.”
Todoroki, seated beside him, was silent for a moment. His gaze wasn’t on the view outside but on Midoriya himself. The way the light from the carnival reflected in Midoriya’s eyes, the faint pink flush on his cheeks from the excitement of the day—it was captivating. “It is.” Todoroki finally replied, his voice quiet and warm. The intensity of his gaze made Midoriya glance at him, his curiosity piqued.
Midoriya blinked, his cheeks darkening as he caught Todoroki staring at him. “Shouto.” He asked softly, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. “What is it?”
Todoroki didn’t answer immediately, instead, he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as his mismatched eyes studied Midoriya with an unreadable expression. “Nothing.” He spoke finally, though his voice carried a weight that made Midoriya’s heart race. “I’m just glad you’re enjoying yourself. You’ve been smiling a lot today. It suits you.”
Midoriya’s blush deepened, and he turned back toward the window, trying to hide his face. “You’re really good at saying things that make my heart race, you know that?” He muttered, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and fondness.
Todoroki’s lips curved a small smile. “Am I?” He asked, his tone teasing but gentle. He shifted slightly, leaning closer to Midoriya. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Their gondola paused at the top of the Ferris wheel, leaving them suspended in the air. The world below felt impossibly far away, and the stillness around them heightened the intimacy of the moment.
Midoriya glanced at Todoroki from the corner of his eyes, his heart thudding in his chest. The soft glow from the Ferris wheel lights illuminated Todoroki’s face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the gentle curve of his lips.
Todoroki noticed Midoriya’s gaze and turned toward him, their eyes meeting. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken emotions.
Todoroki lifted a hand, brushing a stray strand of green hair away from Midoriya’s face. The touch was featherlight, but it sent a shiver down Midoriya’s spine. “You have something on your mind.” Todoroki murmured, his voice low and steady. “What is it?”
Midoriya shook his head, his cheeks burning. “It’s nothing.” He said quickly, though the quickening pace of his heart told a different story. “I just…… I’m really happy. That’s all.”
Todoroki’s expressions softened, and he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from Midoriya’s. His mismatched eyes searched Midoriya’s, as if trying to decipher every thought and feeling hidden within them. “Me too.” He said simply, his voice barely above a whisper.
Midoriya’s breath hitched as Todoroki’s gaze dropped on his lips for a brief moment before returning to his eyes. The space between them disappeared as Todoroki leaned in further, his intentions clear.
Just as their lips were about to touch, Todoroki stopped, pulling back slightly with a faint smirk. “Not yet.” He said, his tone teasing, though there was a warmth in his eyes that belied his words.
Midoriya’s blinked, his face turning a deep shade of red. “Shouto!” He exclaimed, his voice a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. He let out a nervous laugh, his hand clutching a bunny plush Todoroki had won for him earlier. “You’re so mean sometimes, you know that?”
Todoroki chuckled softly, leaning back against the seat. “Am I?” He asked, his tone light. “Maybe I just like seeing you flustered.”
Midoriya huffed, though he couldn’t hide the small smile that crept onto his face. “You’re impossible.” He muttered, hugging the plushies tightly. Despite his words, his heart swelled with affection, the warmth of Todoroki’s presence wrapping around him like a comforting embrace.
As the Ferris wheel began its decent, the gondola swaying gently with the movement, Midoriya leaned against Todoroki’s shoulder, letting out a content sigh.
Todoroki didn’t move away; instead, he reached out, his hand resting lightly on Midoriya’s. The gesture was simple but spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgement of the bond growing between them.
Above them, Chessur watched the scene unfold with a mischievous grin, his golden eyes glowing in the dark. The invisible feline scratched lazily, his tail curling around the edge of the gondola as he kept watch over his humans. Though he said nothing, his presence was a comforting reminder that this moment, in all simplicity and tenderness, was something to be cherished.
A few days passed uneventfully, though the lingering tension from the recent events at school refused to dissipate entirely.
Midoriya had settled back into his routine, attending classes and pushing through the dull ache in his foot that reminded him of the cafeteria fight. The fracture had healed enough that he no longer needed crutches, though he still walked with a faint limp.
Today’s lesson was Japanese Literature, and Midnight was at the front of the class, her enthusiasm for the subject practically radiating off her as she guided the students through classic works.
Midoriya sat at his desk, his notes neat and organized as always, but his focus wavered. His pen hovering idly over the page, his thoughts drifting as the classroom chatter faded into background noise.
His mind wandered to Todoroki, unbidden but entirely welcome. He thought about the carnival—the way Todoroki had smiled when he handed him the bunny plushie, the subtle warmth of his hand wherever they touched, and the gentle steadiness that Todoroki always seemed to exude.
Midoriya’s cheeks flushed faintly as he replayed the memories, his heart fluttering at the thought of the boy who had, without even trying, become such an integral part of his life.
Yet even as he felt that warmth, darker thoughts lingered in the recesses of his mind. His bullies, the ones who had fractured his foot and mocked him so mercilessly, still occupied a corner of his consciousness. He imagined ways to silence their taunts, to make them feel the same pain they had inflicted on him. It was a quiet rage, simmering beneath the surface, hidden from view but no less potent.
The bell rang, jolting him from his reverie. His blinked, realizing he’d barely taken any notes during the lesson.
Shoving his notebook into his bag, he stood and limped toward the door, his foot protesting faintly with each step.
Lunch was next, but he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he thought of Todoroki. They planned to eat together outside, beneath their usual tree.
Midoriya quickly made his way to the courtyard, scanning the area until he spotted Todoroki sitting under the shade of the tree, his lunchbox in hand.
Todoroki looked up as Midoriya approached, his mismatched eyes softening when they met his. “Hey.” He greeted, his voice as calm and composed as ever.
“Hi.” Midoriya replied, his smile widening as he carefully lowered himself onto the grass beside Todoroki.
As they unpacked their lunches, Midoriya couldn’t help but notice his exhausted Todoroki looked. His movements were slower than usual, his shoulders slightly slumped.
And then there were the bruises—deep purple marks on his neck that hadn’t been there a few days ago, and faint burns in his arms that seemed to have gone untreated.
Midoriya frowned, his concern mounting as he reached out hesitantly. “Shouto…… what happened?” He asked softly, his voice tinged with worry.
Todoroki glanced down at his arms, as though noticing the injuries for the first time. He shrugged lightly. “Training.” He said simply, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
Midoriya’s frown deepened. He set his lunch aside and rummaged through his bag, pulling out a small first aid kit he had started carrying around just in case, as always.
Without a word, he reached for Todoroki’s arm, carefully tending to the burns with a gentle touch. Todoroki didn’t protest, watching Midoriya’s focused expression with quiet appreciation.
“You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.” Midoriya spoke softly as he worked, his green eyes flickering up to meet Todoroki’s. “You need to take care of yourself.”
Todoroki’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I could say the same for you.” He replied, his gaze dropping briefly to Midoriya’s foot. “How’s it feeling?”
“It’s better.” Midoriya spoke, though the slight wince that followed his words didn’t go unnoticed by Todoroki. “Still aches sometimes, but it’ll be fine.”
When Midoriya finished tending to the burns, he leaned back with a satisfied nod, his fingers lingering on Todoroki’s wrist for a moment before he pulled away. “There.” He said with a small smile. “That’s better.”
Todoroki looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Then, without a word he shifted closer, resting his head on Midoriya’s lap. Midoriya froze, his heart pounding as he looked down at Todoroki in surprise. “S-Shouto…?”
“Just for a bit.” Todoroki murmured, his voice soft and laced with exhaustion. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”
Midoriya hesitated, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red, but he nodded, his hands hovering awkwardly before he finally rested one on Todoroki’s shoulder. “O-okay.” He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
As Todoroki closed his eyes, the tension in his body seemed to melt away. Midoriya watched him silently, his heart fluttering at how peaceful Todoroki looked.
He ran his fingers through Todoroki’s hair hesitatingly, marveling at how soft it was.
Chessur appeared nearby, invisible to the other students but visible to Midoriya. The cat watched them with a knowing grin, its tail flicking lazily as it lounged in the shade.
Minutes passed, and the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them beneath the tree. Midoriya’s thoughts drifted once again, but this time, they were filled with warmth and quiet contentment.
For the first time in days, he felt at ease, the weight of his worries momentarily lifted as he sat with Todoroki in the gentle afternoon sunlight.
Chapter 11: Silent observations and hidden intentions
Summary:
Villain outfit reveal
https://www.deviantart.com/yan-lisoulless/art/Usagi-Izuku-AU-906149924
Notes:
Hello, its been 6 months since I last updated, apologies, i had family stuff to deal with. I'm eager to share more chapter. No matter how long im gone, i will still make chapter for my small audience. This chapter is short, but the next one won't be. Also the villain outfit idea came from inspiration from Yan-li Art on tumblr. They have full credit of course.
Chapter Text
Midoriya returned to class with his usual quiet demeanor, though a faint limp still accompanied each step he took. The ache in his foot had lessened over the past few days, but it was a persistent reminder of the confrontation that had left him battered.
He adjusted his bag on his shoulder, slipping into Class 1-C unnoticed by most of his classmates, who were busy chatting or preparing for the days lessons.
Taking his seat near the back, Midoriya set his notebooks neatly on the desk, his expression calm as he prepared himself for the day ahead.
President Mic, as animated as ever, entered the classroom with a flourish, clapping his hands to draw everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone, listen up! Today we’re reinstalling the live training monitors for Class 1-A and Class 1-B. It’s part of the cross-observation initiative, so keep your eyes sharp and your notes sharper! We’re going to be focusing on advanced Hero tactics once more, so take this seriously—it’s not just entertainment, people!”
The class murmured their acknowledgment as President Mic activated the large screens at the front of the room. Instantly, multiple feeds from the Class 1-A and 1-B training grounds came to life, showing various students engaged in rigorous hero training. The sights and sounds of combat filled the classroom, drawing everyone’s attention to the displays.
Midoriya’s emerald eyes locked onto one of the screens almost instantly.
There, amidst the chaos of training exercises, was Todoroki. The dual-haired boy moved with his usual calm precision, ice and fire blending seamlessly as he dispatched targets with an almost effortless grace.
Midoriya’s heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, he reached for his notebook, the one labeled “Hero Analysis.”
His pen glided across the page as he meticulously recorded Todoroki’s movements—his stance, the way he balanced his elemental abilities, and how this techniques adapted depending on the simulated threats.
Midoriya’s focus was razor-sharp, his hand moving rapidly as he filled page after page with detailed observations.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the class, Todoroki had noticed the monitors as well.
As he continued his training, his mismatched eyes flickered briefly to the camera positioned nearby, as if sensing Midoriya’s gaze even from miles away. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and with subtlety that only someone like Midoriya would catch, Todoroki began to move in way that accentuated his strengths.
He added an extra flourish to his attacks, letting his flames linger in a dazzling display of creating intricate patterns of ice that seemed almost artistic. It was a silent performance, meant for one person alone.
Midoriya noticed. His hand paused mid-note, his lips parting slightly in awe as he realized Todoroki was deliberately teasing him. A faint blush crept across his cheeks, but it was quickly replaced by a determined smile as he resumed writing, determined to document every detail of Todoroki’s brilliance.
Beneath his Hero Analysis notebook, however, lay another notebook—one he had been working on in secret. Its cover was plain and unmarked, giving no hint of its contents. Inside were names, scrawled in neat yet chillingly deliberate handwriting: the names of his bullies, each one etched into the pages as though he were carving them into stone.
As Midoriya glances down at the second notebook, his pen hesitated for only a moment before he added another name to the list. His lips curved into a small, unsettling smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
Those same green eyes began to gleam with a strange, almost unearthly light, a silent promise of retribution that no one else in the room seemed to notice.
His classmates were too absorbed in the training footage, and even President Mic’s enthusiastic commentary couldn’t break Midoriya’s focus. The duality of his thoughts—admiring Todoroki’s heroism while plotting the downfall of those who had wronged him—played out his mind like a carefully orchestrated symphony.
Every now and then, Midoriya’s gaze flickered to the monitors, catching Todoroki’s brief glances at the camera, the subtle smirk that made his head race. But when his attention returned to his hidden notebook, the smile that curled on his lips was far more sinister, a stark constant to the admiration he held for Todoroki.
The day continued, the sounds of training battles and President Mic’s commentary filling the room, but for Midoriya, it was as if the world outside his thoughts had faded away.
***
The final bell of the day echoed through the halls of Class 1-C, but Izuku didn’t rush out like the rest of his classmates. He lingered, carefully organizing his notes and underlined kanji—evidence of President Mic’s lesson just hours prior.
His foot still ached from the healing fracture, the occasional throb pulsing up his leg as a reminder of what had happened. But the limp was manageable now; he no longer needed crutches, and that alone made him feel powerful in a quiet, personal way.
As he zipped up his bag, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Todoroki.
‘Heading home. Be safe, make sure to text me when you’re back.’
He hesitated for a moment, rereading the text before nodding and slipping the phone into his pocket. A glance toward the sky through the window confirmed the sun was already sinking lower, turning the clouds warm with orange hues. But Izuku wasn’t going home. Not yet.
He exited the school through the wide entrance, his hood pulled up to shadow his face. His steps were silent, intentional, each foot fall steady and measured as he weaved through alleyways and quiet streets.
The neighborhood changed the further he walked—clean buildings giving way to rusted rooftops, graffiti-tagged dumpsters, and the scent of burnt metal and alcohol wafting from cracked doors.
When he finally reached the League’s hideout, the old bar at the edge of the warehouse district, the flickering neon sign above the door greeted him with a lazy pulse. He stepped inside without hesitation.
The familiar clink of glass greeted him first, followed by the calm presence of Kurogiri polishing the counter with his usual eerie elegance. Kurogane sat in the far corner, flipping through a tattered strategy manual, his sharp gaze lifting as Izuku entered.
On the couch near the television sat Tomura, hunched over his phone with one hand, his other twitching, fingers scratching lightly at the fabric of his sleeve as he muttered something under his breath.
Izuku sat down his bag without speaking, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I brought the design.” He spoke quietly, his voice even.
Tomura didn’t even glance up. “Took you long enough, let’s see it.”
Before class Izuku had grabbed his duffle bag, unzipping it and carefully removed the folded costume.
A light weight tactical outfit in matte black, reinforced in vital areas but flexible and quiet. The cloak was sleeveless, with jagged edges like torn pages, and the long hoof crowned with two rabbit-like ears that curved with just enough bend ti appear expressive. Izuku unfolded the matching mask—a smooth, almost featureless face with a stitched-on grin that curled into something disturbingly cheerful. The contrast between the softness of a rabbit and the menace of its grin with delicate. Symbolic. Rebellious.
He turned away, slipping into the costume behind the bar as the others waited in heavy silence. When he emerged fully dressed, pulling the hood up last and fixing the mask onto his face, the transformation was absolute.
Tomura looked up, blinking slowly. His eyes scanned from the boots to the ears. He stood without a word and began circling Izuku like a lion asserting another predator. “Huh.” He muttered after a long pause. “You didn’t go flashy. You didn’t try to look edgy for the sake of it. You just……look like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.”
Kurogane approached next, arms crossed, his posture firm and calculating. “Smart choice avoiding bulky armor. That’s not your fighting style, and you know it. Speed and strategy are your weapons. Not brute strength.” Kurogane leaned in closer. “The mask is unsettling. The smile makes people uncomfortable. That’s power.”
Kurogiri gave a soft, appreciative nod. “You’ve chosen a symbol that appears harmless to the world but hides its teeth. The costume is quiet but tells a story. I see that you’re doing.”
Izuku stood still, saying nothing. He felt them watching him—not just the design, but what it represented.
A villain name he picked was Usagi, although it means rabbit, Izuku thought it fit well for him, not wanting to choose a difficult name, but one that suits him.
After a few moments, Izuku reached up and removed the mask slowly, revealing his flushed face underneath. His green eyes were sharp, calculating, and tired. He met Tomura’s gaze directly. “I’ve decided to choose Usagi. I want it to be the last thing they remember before they realize what I’ve done.”
Tomura’s mouth curved into a crooked grin. “You’ve got bite, finally. This…..this is who you’re becoming, and it’s working.”
Kurogane gave a small grunt of approval. “Your enemies won’t expect this. They’ll laugh. Then they’ll bleed.”
Kurogiri floated a glass onto the bar for him, voice calm as always. “You’ve stepped into a new role, Young Midoriya. This is no longer about being overlooked. This is about legacy.”
Izuku’s fingers tightened around the mask in his hands as he looked at each of them. The warm glow from the ceiling light bounced off the sharp angled of his cloak, casting a long shadow behind him.
In the silence that followed, he smiled—a small, crooked thing, glowing faintly was his eyes, as anticipation kicked in, as well as something far darker. It was no longer a costume.
It was a declaration.
Usagi had arrived
https://www.deviantart.com/yan-lisoulless/art/Usagi-Izuku-AU-906149924
Chapter 12: Rabbit in the dark
Summary:
What could go wrong?.......oh wait
Notes:
New chapter incoming. I do not know what time you all get my updates, but hopefully you all read it. a small audience is fine.
Chapter Text
It started with a name. Scribbled down in Izuku’s second notebook—not the one full of hero data, but the other one. The one hidden beneath false bottoms and dark thoughts. He ran his fingers over the page, tracing the link slowly, deliberately, until the name began to blur into something symbolic. Something already dead.
Kenta Mizuno. Class 1-C. Loud. Reckless. Known for his force-based quirk and sharper tongue. One of the reasons Izuku had limped his way through the weeks of school with aching ribs and a healing foot.
Izuku closed the notebook and stared at his reflection in the train window as the city flashed by. Neon lights fractured his face into jagged geometry. A smile crept up the side of his cheek. Not his usual bright grin. This one had edges.
By the time he reached the bar, the plan had already taken root.
Kurogiri gave him a small, knowing nod as he entered. “You look……purposeful.”
Izuku smiled a bit. He descended the basement stairs in silence, his boots thudding lightly on old concrete, until he reached the low room where the hum of ventilation and the whisper of past deeds clung to the walls.
The chair in the center had been cleaned recently. Kurogane had helped install better restraints. The restraints weren’t for anyone just yet. Not yet.
Izuku set his bag down, fingers trembling with adrenaline, not hesitation. The air felt charged already. Something waiting.
He texted Tomura.
‘I need one hour.’
Perfect.
He left the bar through the back. The route to UA wasn’t difficult—he’d memorize every blind spot weeks ago. His hoodie was dark. His movements controlled. He slipped into the trees just beyond the walkway, where night insects chirped over the sound of late-night chatter.
Kenta was alone. As always. Cocky enough to believe no one would ever dare touch him. He had just left the rec building, earbuds in, nodding his head to some bass-heavy track, backpack slung over one shoulder.
Izuku watched from the shadows, invisible except to the moon.
He waited until Kenta reached the path behind the training arena—a shortcut students took to sneak back unnoticed. Predictable.
A pebble skittered ahead of him. Kenta paused. Looked up.
Izuku struck fast. A needle jab to the neck. A flash of pain. A chemical compound laced with something stronger than sleep.
Kenta collapsed, twitching. His mouth moved like he wanted to scream, but no sound came out. His body was heavy now—paralyzed, not unconscious. Perfect.
Izuku leaned down, pulling his hood tighter over his curls, face hidden beneath the rabbit-eared silhouette of his bunny mask. His red goggles attached to his mask covered his eyes, hiding them well. “Don’t worry.” Izuku whispered into Kenta’s ear, voice soft and smooth like poisoned silk. “You’ll still be useful. In a way.”
He hoisted the boy up using a repurposed support item, modified with weighted slings and stealthy dampeners. A bit of genius he borrowed from Mei Hatsume’s prototype schematics.
The walk back was slow but focused.
Kurogiri opened his warp gate, helping Izuku back to the bar.
Tomura glanced from his place on the couch, game controller dangling from his fingers. “That better be who I think it is.”
Izuku said nothing. He merely dragged the bound figure down the stairs.
The basement air felt colder now. Like it had been noticed what was coming.
He set Kenta down in the chair with clinical care—wrists, ankles, neck. The straps clicked. The lights above flickered once. Kurogane entered behind him, curious.
“What’s this?”
Izuku stepped back, glancing over the setup. “A volunteer. One of mine.”
Kenta’s eyes fluttered open. Murky. Confused. Then wide. Desperate.
“Can’t move, can you?” Izuku spoke, tilting his head. “That’s the serum. Paralyzes everything but your thoughts. So you can still feel.”
Tomura appeared at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, eyes glowing red under the fluorescents. “You didn’t break protocol. Good. What do you want us to do with him?”
“You said the doctor wanted subjects to turn, right? Why not use him? He could be useful for your upcoming plans for UA.” Izuku spoke.
Izuku then leaned in close to Kenta’s face, nose almost touching, his breath warm against the boys chilled cheek. “You always said I’d never be anything. No power, no future, no respect. But look at you now. Sitting in my chair. Wearing my chains.”
Kenta’s eyes welled up. Not with remorse. With fear. Good.
Tomura watched from the shadows. For the first time he didn’t comment.
He only smiled.
Kenta’s muffled screamed echoed through the basement, his wrists bound tightly behind his back, shoulders heaving with a mix of panic and rage. His eyes darted wildly from Izuku to Tomura, then the looming figure of Kurogiri.
The stench of metal and blood clung to the concrete air like rot, and the dim lighting only added to the nightmare.
Tomura glanced at Kenta with mild disinterest, fingers twitching as he scratched his neck. “He’s ready?”
Izuku, his green curls messy and falling into his glowing eyes, gave a cold nod. His fingers were stained with traces of dried blood, the sleeves of his costume rolled up by the elbows. He didn’t look like the nervous, stuttering boy from before. There was no hesitation in his gaze—only purpose. “He’s prepped.”
“Good, Kurogiri.” Tomura spoke, waving a hand.
Without a word, a swirling portal of purple bloomed beside them. The distorted air shimmered in place and Kurogiri stepped forward slightly, his voice calm. “I’ll ensure Dr. Ujiko receives him directly. He’s been awaiting a fresh…..subject.”
Kenta thrashed violently against his restraints, his voice choked by the cloth gag, but Kurogiri didn’t flinch.
The purple fog swallowed Kenta whole, disappearing into the darkness as quickly as it came. The room fell silent.
Izuku was still catching his breath, adrenaline humming under his skin, when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Snowflake ❄️.
He quickly stepped away from Tomura, swiping the call. “Shouto?” His voice was low, cautious. “Everything okay?”
The voice on the other end was faint, strained. “I….I’m fine. Just—“ There was a soft, ragged breath. “We had a…..disagreement. My father and I.”
Izuku’s eyes sharpened. He stepped away from the blood-stained table, phone pressed tightly to his ear. “What do you mean, Shouto? What happened?”
A pause. “He didn’t like that I left the house yesterday. He thought I was slacking off. I tried to explain but—he….lost it.” Another breath, shaky. “My face is fine. Just bruises. But……my ribs. Maybe cracked. I don’t know.”
“Shouto.” Izuku whispered, voice heavy with quiet fury. “I’m coming to you.”
Todoroki let out a soft sigh. “You don’t have to—“
“I want to.” Izuku snapped, his tone sharp but protective. “Stay where you are. Don’t move too much.”
The call ended before Todoroki could argue any further. Izuku turned back toward the bar, where Tomura was reclining lazily in his seat, picking at the corner of a blueprint, while Kurogiri was just reappearing from the delivery to Ujiko.
“I need a favor.” Izuku spoke firmly.
Tomura raised a brow, curious. “Does this have to do with your pretty ice boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend, but yes.” Izuku spoke bluntly. “That disgusting man did something to him again. I need to go to his house—quietly. I want Kurogiri to open a warp gate so I can sneak in.”
Tomura’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged, waving his fingers. “Fine. Go play knight in shining armor. Just don’t get caught.”
Izuku’s fingers curled tightly around his phone, “I won’t.” He turned to Kurogiri. “Can you take me there?”
Kurogiri nodded once. “Of course, young Midoriya.”
As the dark mist began to form once more, Izuku felt his heart hammering—this time, not from bloodlust or the thrill of a successful kidnapping. This time, it was something heavier. The thought of Todoroki beaten and curled somewhere in a quiet room, filled him with a new kind of rage.
One that burned hotter than fire.
Todoroki Shouto sat in the quiet of his room, the kind of silence that didn’t soothe—it suffocated. His body ached with a familiar, dull heaviness. The sharp sting along his shoulder blade, the tender bruised across his ribs, the throb of his jaw—it was the aftermath of another fight with his father.
No, not a fight. Fights were mutual. This had been a punishment. No one had tried to stop it.
His fingers hovered near the edge of his bed, twitching slightly. He stared at the empty hallway beyond his half-closed door, listening. Nothing. Just like before. Fuyumi hadn’t come upstairs. She must’ve heard something—she always did—but she hadn’t knocked. Hadn’t asked if he was okay.
Natsuo hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. He didn’t know if it was fear, helplessness, or just distance that kept them from coming.
He exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to press the heat down into his lungs and bury it. But the bitterness didn’t stay buried. It simmered.
Why didn’t they come?
His father’s words echoed in his head—“You’re still not strong enough. If this is all you can offer, you’ll never surpass me.”
Strong enough for what? The legacy he never asked for? The expectations he was bred into?
His fingers curled into the sheets beneath him. He could still smell the smile from downstairs—Enji’s flames hadn’t touched him this time, but the scorch in the air had lingered. Just like it always did.
He looked over at his phone. The screen had gone black again, but he could still see the trace of the last call burned into his memory: Zuzu 🐰. It had only lasted a few minutes. Long enough to hear his voice.
Izuku had known something was wrong. The moment Shouto answered, there had been a pause—one of those silences too full to be empty. Then Izuku’s voice, calm but edged with tension: “Shouto. What happened?”
Shouto had tried to speak like nothing was wrong. Tried to lie, like always. But his voice had cracked halfway through a sentence, and Izuku hadn’t said anything for a second. Just breathed. Listened.
It wasn’t pity in his voice—it never was. Izuku didn’t treat him like he was fragile. He treated him like he was breakable only because others had broken him. And that distinction meant everything.
Shouto closed his eyes. The darkness behind them wasn’t peaceful. It was filled with the memory of how small he felt standing in front of his father’s rage, how he flinched even when the flames weren’t pointed at him. How he had looked past Enji and searched the staircase for anyone—anyone—to appear. And no one had.
Except Izuku. Not in person, not yet. But he had called.
And that small act—hearing that voice—was enough to twist something inside of him. It was terrifying how much he had needed that call. How he waited for it without realizing. How it had soothed him more than the ice he could summon from his own skin.
He didn’t want to admit his fast he had saved Izuku’s contact under his favorites. Or how his heart always reacted first when his name lit up on the screen. It wasn’t just affection anymore.
It was obsession.
Izuku had become the only person Shouto trusted to see him like that—messy, broken, humiliated. And even that trust came with fear. Because if Izuku ever left….if he ever changed…..
Shouto didn’t want to finish the thought.
His breath caught as he rolled to sit on the edge of his bed, wincing slightly from the bruise at his ribs. His phone buzzed again. A message. "I'm coming.”
It was simple. It was Izuku.
And even though no one else in that house had come running, even though his own family had retreated into walls and silence, Izuku—who didn’t owe him anything—was already on his way.
Shouto felt his heart stutter.
The despair didn’t leave. The anger didn’t settle. But underneath it all, where his emotions churned dangerously close to the surface, something fragile and greedy stirred to life.
Someone had heard him. Someone chose him.
And maybe, just maybe…..that was enough to survived one more night.
The portal closed behind him like the lid of a coffin—quiet, seamless, absolute. Izuku stood just beyond the Todoroki estate’s high stone wall, its white tiles glowing under the moonlight. The street was silent. Suburban, upper-class, perfectly trimmed hedges. A place built on reputation. On silence. A cage with golden bars.
He slipped into the shadows like smoke, hood pulled low, gloves tight around his fingers. He looked like any other tired teenager, trying to disappear into the dark. The hoodie he wore was oversized and soft, olive-toned, with thumb holes that hugged the calluses of his palm. Civilian wear. Something soft. Not that costume—not tonight. Because this wasn’t a mission. It was Shouto.
Izuku moved like a ghost, muscles fluid and deliberate. He remembered the schematics from the blueprints he’d dug up weeks ago, just in case. Shouto’s room was on the second floor, northeast corner, fourth window from the left.
There was a faint light on. The window—was cracked open. Izuku stared for a long second. That was a message.
He scaled the side of the estate silently, fingers gripping grooves in the stone as if they belonged to him. The night wind rustled his hair as he reached the ledge and eased open the window inch by inch.
The smell of antiseptic and burnt air hit him immediately—faint but sharp. Familiar. He slid inside like a whisper and shut the window behind him.
The moment he entered, he saw him. Shouto sat on the edge of the bed, curled forward, one arm across his ribs. He looked like a statue—shoulders tense, posture guarded. His eyes were unfocused, lids half-lowered. The desk lamp cast a golden wash across his face, highlighting the purpling bruise on his jaw, the abrasion just beneath his right eye, the telltale swelling near his temple.
“Shouto.” He breathed, barely a sound.
Shouto flinched. His head jerked—but his eyes didn’t widen in fear. When he saw Izuku, something inside him seemed to crack, quietly, like thawing ice. “Izuku?” The voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.
Izuku crossed the room in two strides, falling to his knees in front of him. He wanted to touch him. Wanted to check every bruise, bandage every break. But he waited. Held still. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Shouto didn’t answer. He stared at Izuku like he wasn’t real—like he was a figment of his own desperation. He opened his mouth, closed it. Then—
“My siblings didn’t come.” He whispered. “He hit me in front of them.”
The words were soft, cracked at the edges. Raw. Izuku’s heart clenched. And yet, Shouto wasn’t crying. Not even now.
His hands were curled into the sheets beneath him like he was trying to ground himself, to not fly apart at the seams.
“I’m here.” Izuku spoke, voice low. “That’s all that matters now. Come with me.”
A pause. Shouto blinked, as if emerging from deep underwater. Then—he nodded.
Izuku rose and helped him to stand slowly, carefully not to disturb his injuries. He slipped an arm around his waist and pulled Shouto close, guiding the taller boy’s face against his chest.
“Don’t look.” He whispered. “Just listen to my heartbeat. You’re safe.”
Shouto breath hitched. Then, he buried his face deeper into Izuku’s hoodie, curling trembling fingers into the fabric like he never wanted to let go.
Behind them, the air shimmered. Kurogiri’s warp gate opened soundlessly in the far corner of the room—void like and patient.
Shouto didn’t see it. Izuku didn’t let him. They stepped into the mist. And were gone.
***
The portal reformed inside a small apartment bathed in los golden lamplight. It was warm. Quiet. The air smelled like clean cotton and soft incense—jasmine, gentle, unobtrusive.
The space had no pictures, no clutter. Just clean walls, soft cushions, a small kitchenette, a bookshelf of medical texts and manga, a neatly made futon in the corner. It was safe.
Izuku didn’t release Shouto right away. He guided him to the couch, one step at a time, never letting his hand leave the small of his back.
They sat together, Shouto still leaning against him, face hidden in his chest. Only then did Izuku breathe.
He ran a hand through Shouto’s hair—carefully, gently, avoiding the bruises. The dual-colored strands were soft against his palm.
Shouto trembled once, then exhaled slowly, shakily. He still hadn’t said anything.
“Do you want water?” Izuku spoke softly, brushing his thumb along the ridge of Shouto’s cheekbone.
Shouto shook his head. He pulled Izuku closer instead. “…..You’re really here.”
“I’m always here.”
Silence. Then, like melting ice, Shouto exhaled. His body sagged against Izuku’s with a weight that spoke volumes—he had finally let himself fall. No hero facade. No stubborn pride. No quiet stoicism. Just….a tired boy, broken by his father, held together by the only person who showed up.
Izuku kissed the top of his head. He whispered. “He won’t hurt you again.”
He didn’t say who. He didn’t need to. Shouto understood.
Chapter 13: Cracks in the ice
Summary:
Obsessive love is all I’m gonna say
Notes:
New chapter up, let’s keep it going
Chapter Text
The room was dim when Todoroki stirred, soft streaks of dawn light cutting through the curtains. The silence was still—thick and warm, not heavy like home. Not like the Todoroki estate, with its glass windows and cold floors. Here, the quiet wasn’t suffocating. It was gentle, alive.
He opened his eyes slowly, mind hazy with sleep. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The scent in the air—linen and jasmine, faintly sweet—wasn’t familiar.
Then memory returned in pieces: the bruises, the hand o around his wrist, the echo of his name being called through the dark. And Izuku, holding him like something precious.
He shifted and blinked down. Izuku lay beside him, still fast asleep. His chest rose and fell steadily, hair a dark halo around his face.
Todoroki stared, unmoving. His eyes fell to Izuku’s hands, resting close—bandages knuckles, faint scratches along his forearm. Probably from climbing. From breaking into that house for him.
Then Todoroki noticed the gauze taped to his ribs. The antiseptic smell. He pushed the edge of his shirt up slightly and found careful, clean work—disinfected wounds, wrapped with practiced hands. Not from a clinic. Izuku had done this. Quietly. Without asking.
A strange feeling bloomed in his chest—something quiet and reverent, something that burned not like the fire but like warmth trapped beneath his skin. His heart thudded once. Then again. He wasn’t sure why. Only that he couldn’t look away from Izuku’s sleeping face.
There was something about the way Izuku slept—unguarded, curling slightly like someone used to being alert. Even now, his brows were relaxed but not fully smooth. As if some part of him never truly rested.
Todoroki wanted to ease that line between them. His fingers twitched with the urge to brush that hair aside.
He didn’t. Not yet.
Instead, he sat up slowly, testing his movement. There was stiffness but less pain.
He rose quietly, making his way toward the small kitchenette he’d glimpse the night before. The apartment was compact, clean, and lived in—lived in by someone who liked structure.
There was a dish rack wiry exactly two cups, a few plates. A sharp kitchen knife. A magnetic spice strip.
Todoroki ran his fingers across the counter thoughtfully. No clutter. No framed photos. But there was a softness in the quiet details—fresh bread, still warm, wrapped in cloth on the counter. Miso paste in the fridge. Eggs, neatly stacked. Someone had stocked this place intentionally. For Izuku.
He began to move by instinct—clean water for rice, kettle on the stove, miso soup simmering gently. It felt surreal. His body moved like it remembered how to live somewhere not built on fear. Somewhere he could breathe.
Behind him, a phone buzzed.
He turned to see Izuku stir on the couch. The blue glow of the screen lit up across the table beside him.
Izuku reached for it groggily, blinking the sleep from his eyes.
Todoroki stood still, watching him. The boy was different like this. Vulnerable, but unshaken.
Izuku read the alert in silence. A flicker passes over his expression—strange, subtle. His lips twitched up, almost imperceptibly.
“Good morning.” Todoroki spoke quietly.
Izuku looked up at him. The smile softened. Warmer now. “Hey. You’re up early.”
“I didn’t want to sleep in a strangers bed too long.” Todoroki spoke evenly, though his eyes lingered. “…..Thank you. For last night. And for the bandages.”
“You’re not a stranger.” Izuku spoke simply. Then he sat up, stretching until his hoodie pulled tight across his frame. “You’re making breakfast?”
“Miso and rice. It’s not much.”
“It’s perfect.” Izuku spoke, crossing the small space to join him. He looked over Todoroki’s shoulder into the pot like he wasn’t surprised by his competence. “You cook?”
“I had to.” There was a pause. “No one else would.”
Izuku hummed softly, a sound Todoroki couldn’t read. Then—he reached behind him and opened a side cabinet.
“Want to meet someone?” Izuku spoke, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth.
Before Todoroki could ask what he meant, Izuku gently lifted a sleek creature from inside—a cat with soft, silvery-grey fur and sharp, bold stripes in deep purple that shimmered faintly under the morning light.
Her tail flicked like a whip, and her golden eyes, wide and glinting with mischief, met Todoroki’s with eerie intelligence.
But what caught him most off guard—what made him freeze—was the cat’s mouth.
Chessur smiled. Not a small feline twitch of amusement, but a full, arched grin that revealed impossibly sharp white teeth. Her grin stretched too wide for her face, like a crescent moon of knives.
“This is Chessur.” Izuku spoke fondly, scratching under her chin. She purred deeply, the sound like a warble and a whisper. “She’s…..different. But she chose me.”
The cat let out a trill and leapt to the counter, sniffing at the miso. Her movements were as fluid as a shadow, yet somehow never out of place.
“She’s….watching me.” Todoroki spoke, wearily.
“She does that. You’ll get used to it.” Izuku spoke, tone amused. “She only bites people I don’t like.”
“Charming.”
Izuku grinned, a little more tooth than warmth. “Like I said. Mine.”
Todoroki looked at the cat. Then at him.
That strange heartbeat pulsed in his chest again.
He didn’t understand why. Not yet. But it was growing.
The morning was clear and pale, the streets washed in early light. Izuku and Todoroki walked in sync, fingers loosely intertwined between them. The city hadn’t quite woken up yet—only the occasional car hummed by, and the breeze rustled the trees that lined the sidewalk. It was peaceful, and for once, it felt like the world wasn’t watching.
Todoroki didn’t say much. He rarely did. But Izuku could tell by the way he stayed close, how he angled his body toward him ever so slightly, that he didn’t mind the silence. If anything, it seemed to calm him.
Their shoes tapped rhythmically against the pavement as they neared the school. Just ahead, the UA gates came into view.
Then—
A crowd of reporters swarmed like vultures on the steps.
Izuku felt it before he saw it. The shift in the air—tense, expectant. Microphones pointed outward, camera shutters snapping. But they weren’t looking at him. Not yet.
They were looking at Todoroki.
“There he is!” One of the reporters shouted. “That’s Endeavor’s son—Todoroki Shouto!”
Another chimed in immediately: “Young man, what do you think about AllMight being a teacher at UA?”
“Is it true you’re one of his students?”
“How does your father feel about this?”
“Is Endeavor involved with the new hero curriculum?”
Todoroki’s entire body tensed.
He didn’t flinch, but Izuku felt the subtle change in his grip—the way his fingers tightened around his. His jaw clenched, face stony, but Izuku saw it: the simmering frustration, the anger just beneath the surface.
Not again.
Todoroki didn’t answer. He kept walking, pulling Izuku forward, ignoring the sea of questions. But the reporters didn’t let up. They pressed in closer, some even stepping in front of them.
“Is it true Endeavor is pushing you to surpass All Might?”
“Do you think your position in Class 1-A is because of favoritism?”
That one made Todoroki pause.
Izuku’s eyes flickered up, watching him, protective instincts flaring. Before the crowd could see it—before the mask slipped—Izuku gently tugged him to keep moving.
Todoroki blinked, jaw still tight, and let himself be pulled.
“Ignore them.” Izuku muttered under his breath. “They don’t care about your answers. They just want headlines.”
“I know.” Todoroki spoke flatly. His voice was low, but sharp. “But it’s always the same questions.”
Izuku didn’t push. He simply walked closer, their shoulders touching now.
As they broke through the edge of the press, one last question rang out—louder than the rest.
“Is Endeavor supporting your education, or is it another PR stunt?”
Todoroki stopped walking.
Izuku turned to him. “Shouto—“
But Todoroki didn’t turn around. He stood still for just a beat too long, the back of his neck tense, his fists clenched at his sides. Then, slowly, he exhaled through his nose.
Without a word, he reached for Izuku’s hand again and pulled him through the gates, away from the noise.
Inside the courtyard, with the reporters locker outside, it was finally quiet.
Todoroki didn’t speak at first. He stared ahead, his expression unreadable—but his grip on Izuku’s hand didn’t loosen.
“They only see me as his son.” He spoke at last, voice calm but strained. “Not who I am. Just a product of Endeavor.”
“You’re not.” Izuku spoke gently. “You’re Shouto. You’re not just anyone’s legacy………
YOU’RE MINE
.”
Todoroki looked at him then, eyes softer now. Izuku didn’t say it with pity—he said it like it was a fact. Undeniable.
Todoroki didn’t smile. But he didn’t let go either.
They walked the rest of the way hand in hand, the echo of the press fading behind them—but not the weight of what they’d said.
***
The heavy metal doors of U.A. High shut beinf them with a final thud, sealing off the shouts and clicking cameras. The world went quiet again, replaced by the low hum of morning announcements and the distant chatter of students filtering into the hallways.
Todoroki’s steps slowed now that the press was out of sight, but he didn’t let go of Izuku’s hand. If anything, he held it tighter, anchoring himself.
There was heaviness in his chest—an ache that he couldn’t name—but it had less to do with the reporters and more to do with the part of himself that still reacted to their words. Still flinched. Still burned.
Izuku walked beside him, unusually light on his feet, green eyes flicking toward him with a small, knowing smile. He hadn’t said much since they escaped the press, but there was a softness in him, a quiet confidence that seemed to wrap around Todoroki like a blanket. Not overwhelming—never that—but persistent. Warm.
They reached that split in the hallway where Class 1-A and 1-C diverged. Todoroki stopped, expecting Izuku to pull away.
But Izuku didn’t. He kept walking, tugging Todoroki forward by the hand, guiding him like he belonged at his side.
“…..Your class is the other way.” Todoroki murmured.
“I know.” Izuku spoke, tone light. “But I want to walk you to yours first.”
Todoroki blinked. It was such a simple gesture, but it landed hard—like a rock dropped into still water.
They approached the familiar door of Class 1-A, the red number embossed over the frame. Todoroki reached for the handle, but Izuku tugged on his sleeve, stopping him before he opened it.
“Hey….” Izuku spoke gently, tilting his head just enough to catch Todoroki’s eye.
Todoroki turned to him, mouth parting as if to ask something. But Izuku didn’t let him speak.
“You know.” Izuku spoke, voice a low murmur only for him. “I don’t care who your father is.” His thumb lightly brushed Todoroki’s hand. “You’re not him. You’re not like him. You’re better. Warmer. Even if you don’t think so.”
Todoroki froze.
Izuku stepped in closer, their bodies almost touching, and leaned up on his toes to press a feathering kiss to Todoroki’s cheek—just over the edge of the red scar.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. But it was intimate in the most dangerous way—carefully placed affection that lingered like smoke.
Todoroki’s eyes widened, breath catching in his throat. His ears were burning. He didn’t understand why his pulse jumped, or why a tiny flame flickered to life on the left side of his head, dancing in his hair like a blush made of fire.
He quickly batted it out with the back of his hand.
“Izuku….” He muttered, almost dazed.
Izuku tilted his head, a wickedly sweet little grin curling his lips. “Just trying to make you forget what they said. Did it work?”
Todoroki swallowed, throat dry. His heart was poisoned now, every beat echoing louder than it should. It was working—too well. The warmth in his chest was dangerous, addictive.
He wanted to say something—anything—but his voice caught, and all that came was a breathless. “Yeah.”
Izuku stepped back, brushing invisible lint from Todoroki’s uniform jacket with a small smirk. “Good. Then go be amazing in class today.”
And with that, he turned and walked back toward his hallway, hands in his pockets, leaving Todoroki standing in front of the door to Class 1-A, still stunned, his cheek burning, the ghost of the kiss still imprinted in his skin.
It wasn’t fair. The way Izuku smiled. The way he made Todoroki feel like he wasn’t a shadow of someone else. It was disarming. Unsettling.
But more than that—it was everything Todoroki had never known he wanted.
And Izuku knew it.
***
The soft scrape of Izuku’s chair echoed slightly in the early quiet of Class 1-C. He took his seat with deliberate calm, spine straight, motion economical, as though he were setting every part of himself into order.
His backpack, dark military-green canvas bag patched with old stitches and newer tears, landed against the desk with a muffled thunk. No one greeted him, and he expected no one to. That was fine.
He opened his notebook with a slow flip, the paper crisp, pages worn at the corners from overuse. Ink bled into diagrams—muscle fibers, skeletal alignment charts, force exertion tables. The section he was currently annotating was on hypertrophy cycles under extreme conditions. High-impact recovery time. Maximum strain before permanent tendon damage.
It was a language he spoke fluently now, this anatomy of strength. A disciple not born from fascination, but necessity. And love.
Love.
His fingers stilled briefly on the page as his mind, unbidden, offered an image: Todoroki’s face half-draped in morning sunlight, just minutes ago, skin glowing with the faint warmth of sleep, stitched wounds dark against pale flesh.
The boy had looked almost innocent. Quiet. Human. But beneath that calm exterior was someone broken in silence—waiting for someone to see it.
Izuku had seen it. And he was going to fix it. Piece by piece.
The morning buzz of the class was low and scattered. Someone was talking about weekend plans, another groaning about the practical test next week. They were thinking about strategy. Or control. Or trauma. They didn’t need to.
Izuku tapped his pen to the margin, jotting down a quick calculation on heat dissipation over bruised muscle. Todoroki’s right shoulder has spasmed slightly last night—scar tissue maybe, or something deeper. He’d reseal it tonight. Use the gentler salve this time. The cooling one.
The classroom door burst open.
“YEAHHHH—GOOD MORNING, CLASS 1-C!”
President Mic’s voice barreled through the room like a shockwave, making a few students jump. Some laughed. Some winced. Izuku didn’t react. His pen didn’t stop moving.
The pro hero strolled in, swaggering down the rows with his usual manic energy, sunglasses flashing under the overhead lights. “You guys READY to learn about kinetic efficiency and quirk enhancement? Because this hero is PUMPED—!”
Izuku turned the page, barely glancing up. The excitement was always loud. Always performative. But occasionally, buried beneath the bluster, there was insight.
President Mic began roll call, calling out names with rhythmic flair. “Hitoshi Shinso—present! Izuku Midoriya….”
He paused mid-step, shades flickering toward the back of the room.
Izuku looked up calmly. “Present.”
The grin on the man’s face widened. “Izuku Midoriya, huh? Man of the hour!”
A few heads turned. Some curious. A few disinterested.
“I heard from the faculty committee this morning.” President Mic continued, his voice dipping into something more genuine. “You’re the first in our department to be formally accepted into the Special Studies track for Exercise Science. That’s seriously impressive, kid.”
Izuku blinked, then offered a quiet nod. “Thank you, President Mic.”
But President Mic wasn’t done.
“Most student don’t even consider that track until third year. It’s too intense, too niche. But not you—you dove headfirst. Single applicant. Top scores. Full marks in biomech quizzes.” He gave a low whistle. “Color me impressed.”
The eyes around Izuku now carried a different edge—some flickers of surprise, some gauging him with fresh attention. A few looked away quickly, uninterested in things that didn’t sparkle with Quirk prestige.
Izuku didn’t care. He wasn’t doing this for them.
He nodded again, soft-spoken. “I want to help people recover. Stay strong. Prevent re-injury.”
A truth. Though not the full one.
President Mic clapped once, the sound sharp. “Well, mission accepted, my man. I also saw you walkin’ to school his morning with a certain Todoroki Shouto—“ His grin devilish “—from Class 1-A?”
The silence in the room thickened. Several students exchanged wide-eyed glances. Someone let out a quiet “wait, what?”
Izuku’s expression didn’t change. He tilted his head slightly, playing innocent like a violin.
“He walks me to class sometimes.” He spoke softly. “We’re…….close.”
“Oh, are you now?” President Mic laughed, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I don’t have a ‘ship wall’ in here. You’d be up in lights, kid.” He pointed dramatically. “Anyway! Since you’re the only student currently enrolled in Exercise Science, we’ve got some extra budget for the individualized lab time, if you want to use the kinetic resistance chamber, or borrow any of the muscle-stim equipment, just ask. Consider it your personal sandbox.”
“Thank you.” Izuku spoke again, this time with more warmth.
Because that was useful. Very useful.
President Mic gave one final thumbs up before launching into the lesson proper, pacing as he explained torque calculations during Quirk activation and muscle fatigue ratios. The board filled with diagrams, arrows, formulas.
Izuku didn’t miss a word. But part of his mind drifted—toward pale skin and firelight, toward breath hitching against his throat when he kissed a flushed cheek.
He tapped his pen once against the desk, steady and slow.
Todoroki was melting. One soft word at a time. One look. One brush of the hand.
Izuku had studied human anatomy in depth.
But it was the heart he was learning to control now.
And he was getting very good at it.
Chapter 14: Burn Pattern
Summary:
The climax is starting
Notes:
This is a shorter chapter, but I feel its good enough
Chapter Text
A few days later, the clang of iron echoed like distant thunder.
Todoroki exhaled slowly, lowering the weight bar back to the stand with precision. His muscles burned, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm as sweat slid down the back of his neck.
UA’s training gym smelled like chalk, metal, and sterile cold—clinical, impersonal. It helped him focus.
Across from him, near the wall lined with kinetic-readout monitors, Izuku sat cross-legged with his notebook balanced on his knee. The soft scratch of pen on paper reached Todoroki’s ears like a metronome.
He shouldn’t have been watching him so much. He knew that. And yet…..
Todoroki reached for his towel but didn’t wipe his face right away. Instead, he looked again.
Izuku’s expression was serene, focused. His pen moved with confidence, occasionally pausing as he made notations. He wore the US exercise science jacket zipped halfway up, green fabric hugging his narrow frame. His curly green hair was tied back today—revealing the delicate slope of his jaw, the curve of his neck.
Something about the sight tugged at something primal in Todoroki. It wasn’t just admiration. It was….something else. A feeling that bloomed low in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar. Dangerous.
He had never wanted to be looked at before. Never needed to be.
But when Izuku glanced up and smiled softly at him—he felt seen. Not as Endeavor’s son. Not as the prodigy. Not as the half-and-half.
Just as Shouto.
He turned away quickly m, heat crawling up his face. His left side flared unconsciously, a curl of fire dancing across his shoulder before he forced it back down.
Control. He had to stay in control.
Izuku was still watching him. Always watching. Taking notes with an almost reverent gaze.
Then—
A soft buzz from Izuku’s phone broke the rhythm.
Todoroki’s brow twitched subtly. It was the first time he’d seen Izuku pause mid-sentence.
Izuku glanced at the screen and his expression shifted, just for a fraction of a second. A flicker of something unreadable. His fingers moved quickly, typing a reply before he turned the phone facedown and smiled again, too easily.
“Sorry.” He murmured. “Spam text.”
Todoroki nodded slowly, though something unsettled him.
That look—he’d seen it before. In his father. In villains.
A shift in the air. Like the eye of a storm right before the collapse.
He didn’t want to believe it. Izuku was….. Izuku. Kind, quiet, brilliant. He smelled like antiseptic and old paper and the faint warmth of chamomile tea. Someone who patched bruises without flinching. Who kissed his cheek so gently it made Todoroki feel breakable.
But beneath that softness….
There was something more.
And Todoroki was drawn to it. Like a moth, wings already scorched.
He dropped to the mat and began his cooldown stretches, eyes drifting back to Izuku, who has resumed writing—his phone now tucked neatly away, the expression on his face calm, thoughtful, almost angelic.
Then someone approached.
Todoroki noticed before Izuku did. A tall student from Class1-C, dyed silver hair and a lazy posture ambled toward Izuku, holding a tablet. His gym jacket was slung casually over his shoulder.
“Hey, Midoriya.” The boy spoke, crouching beside him. “Saw you taking notes. Mind if I peek? I bombed the tendon fatigue quiz last week, and you’re kinda the gold standard now.”
Izuku blinked, startled by the sudden closeness. “Oh. Um….sure?”
The classmate leaned in too far. Their arms touched. He laughed at something Izuku muttered shyly.
Izuku gave a polite little smile, a hand rising to tuck a curl behind his ear.
Todoroki’s hand clenched around the edge of the exercise mat.
He knew that laugh. It was the kind you used when you wanted someone to like you.
Izuku didn’t pull away. Not immediately.
Something in Todoroki snapped quiet and cold. A flare of frost crept up his right side instinctively, the opposite of his usual loss of control.
Why is he touching him?
That wasn’t jealously. It was something deeper. Possession. A wordless, growling instinct inside him screaming mine.
Izuku glanced up.
Their eyes locked.
Todoroki didn’t say anything—but his expression must have said enough. Something dangerous and raw simmered behind his heterochronic eyes.
The silver-haired classmate stood, awkwardly scratching his cheek. “Uh….I’ll just get the notes later. Thanks, Midoriya.”
He wandered off quickly, sensing the tension.
Izuku turned slightly red, watching him leave—then looked at Todoroki, stunned.
Then…he smiled.
It wasn’t the usual one. This smile was smaller. Private. Delighted.
A blush crept up Izuku’s cheeks, his breath hitching just a little.
He closed his notebook.
He was blushing.
He liked it.
Todoroki stood, walking over with careful slowness. His eyes never left Izuku’s.
“You’re always helping people.” He spoke quietly, voice husky with unspoken emotion.
Izuku tilted his head, lips parting slightly. “It’s just notes…”
Todoroki stepped closer.
Too close.
Izuku didn’t back away.
“I like it more when it’s just me.” Todoroki admitted. “You’re….different with me.”
Izuku’s lips trembled faintly.
And then: “You make me feel safe.”
The words came out soft, almost broken, and Todoroki’s heart stuttered.
He reached out without thinking and brushed his knuckles against Izuku’s jaw.
Izuku leaned into the touch.
His notebooks slid from his lap to the floor with a soft thud.
Todoroki’s chest ached. He had no idea what this was. No frame of reference for this feeling. But it consumed him.
And Izuku—eyes wide and dark and shining with something too big for this moment—looked like he wanted to be consumed right back.
Far away, in the back of his mind, Todoroki knew something wasn’t right.
He knew there was something wrong with his fast this was moving. With how much he wanted.
But as Izuku looked up at him like that—
Sweet.
Blushing.
Obsessed.
He didn’t care
***
Todoroki tugged on the zipper of his jacket uniform with a small frown. His fingers hesitated just before it reached his collarbone as he glanced sideways at Izuku, who was shifting the straps of his satchel with calm efficiency.
The sunlight filtering through the campus tress caught the edges of Izuku’s dark-green curls, giving him a strange, almost serene glow. Something about the moment felt heavier than it should.
“I’m going to the USJ this afternoon.” Todoroki spoke, his voice steady, but quiet. His heterochromatic gaze lingered on Izuku, searching for any twitch of emotion beneath the composed expression. “It’s a rescue training simulation with the rest of my class.”
Izuku blinked once, as if hearing it for the first time. His green eyes widened—just slightly—before curving into a gentle smile. “That sounds exciting.” He spoke, voice tinged with feigned innocence. “Make sure you show off that quirk of yours. Impress your classmates.”
Todoroki furrows his brows, sensing something he couldn’t quite name, but Izuku’s warm tone and easy posture dismissed any suspicion before it could settle in his chest.
Izuku reached out, brushing a nonexistent wrinkle from Todoroki’s sleeve with a ghost of a touch.
“I’ll see you after.” Todoroki murmured, lingering a second longer than necessary before turning toward the main building.
Izuku watched him leave, the curve of his smile twitching, then vanishing.
As the last flash of red and white disappeared behind the gates, he exhaled and turned in the opposite direction.
It only took a few minutes before Izuku met up with Kurogiri, warping them both to the entrance of the League’s hideout.
The familiar, shadowed halls of the bar greeted him with the dull scent of concrete, old smoke, and rust. The silence here was thicker, heavier, steeped in purpose.
Izuku’s boots echoed as he descended into the cool dimness, and when he stepped into the central chamber, Tomura was already waiting.
“Right on time.” Tomura rasped, perched lazily on the edge of a workbench, his fingers twitching absently like claws eager to scratch. “We’ve made progress.”
Without waiting for a greeting, he gestured toward a heavy industrial lift. With a groan of metal gears, it descended and revealed the unmistakable silhouette of the Nomu—hulking, stitched, monstrous. Its exposed brain pulsed behind a glassy membrane as it hunched in place, eerily still, eyes blank and waiting. It breathed like it had once been human.
Izuku stepped closer, his sharp green eyes reflecting in the tank’s curved glass. The Nomu was grotesque—power incarnate, warped and repurposed for destruction. He could feel his heart beat faster at the sight, a storm of anticipation and unease rising in his chest.
“He’s combat-ready.” Tomura spoke, his voice cutting through the silence. “Fast regeneration, shock absorption, and brute force. Good for tearing down walls. Or symbols.”
Izuku’s hand curled at his side. “And the others?”
Tomura gave a half-laugh, half-snarl. “Oh, the others. We’ve pulled in hundreds of small fry—street scum, old mercs, quirkless extremists, and some that are just…..bored. They don’t matter. I don’t care how many die or get captured. It’s just noise to keep the heroes distracted. What matters is you.”
Izuku didn’t respond immediately. He continued staring at the Nomu, his thoughts drifting. The image of Todoroki’s soft smile, his blush, the way he held Izuku’s hand like if meant everything—it flickered across his mind. He would be at the USJ too.
Tomura’s voice grew quieter, more curious. “You’re still in, right?”
Izuku turned slowly, eyes gleaming. His expression was unreadable as he answered.
“Yes.” He spoke. “I’m in.”
Chapter 15: Disaster and Deceit
Summary:
The start of the USJ
Notes:
Another banger for the day. I want you all to know that this story will be getting darker, be prepared. Psychological horror is what I like.
Chapter Text
Todoroki sat near the back of the bus, his cheek resting against the window as the scenery rolled by. Outside, grey cloud hung heavy over the horizon, blanketing the city in the dull. The bus bumped along the road, filled with the usual chatter of this classmates.
Kaminari was making some half-hearted joke that got a few laughs, while Iida tried to redirect attention to the rescue training they were headed for.
Todoroki didn’t engage.
His gaze remained fixed on the blurred cityscape beyond the glass, his mind lingering in the lesson ahead. The Unforeseen Simulation Joint—USJ. A facility meant to test their ability to handle scenarios. Fires, floods, landslides. Situations where civilians would need saving.
They were going to learn how to be heroes.
But something didn’t sit right. A small pit of unease stirred in his gut. He couldn’t explain it, but it was there.
The bus rolled to a stop outside the large dome-like facility. As they exited, the structure loomed above them like a slumbering beast. Metal and glass framed the sky, and the ground vibrated faintly beneath their feet.
Aizawa led them to the entrance, where Thirteen waited, her costume as pristine as ever.
“Welcome to the USJ.” She greeted, voice muffled slightly through her helmet. “Today, we’ll be working through various disaster simulations. As hero’s, your job is to rescue people. Power alone won’t save everyone. You’ll need strategy, awareness, and teamwork.”
Todoroki scanned the layout behind the platform they stood on. Zones were arranged in clusters: a mock landslide area, a burning building sector, a flooded shipwreck simulation. Everything meticulously engineered to feel real.
Too real.
Just as Thirteen continued her speech, a distortion flickered at the base of the stairs. Like a tea in space, a black and purple, mist-like void spiraled into existence.
“What is that?” Someone murmured.
Todoroki stepped forward, the hairs on his neck rising. That wasn’t a part of the lesson plan.
The portal pulsed once, then widened. Figured began to emerge. Dozens of them.
Villains.
Real ones.
Aizawa was already moving, goggles down, scarf unfurling. “Thirteen, get them out of here. Now.”
Todoroki stepped in from of this classmates on instinct, scanning the new arrivals.
And then he appeared.
From the purple mist, a towering creature stepped into the artificial light. A grotesque humanoid l with rippling, obsidian muscles and an exposed brain. Its eyes were empty, jaw slack.
But it wasn’t alone.
Perched on its shoulders was a smaller figure, shrouded in a dark green cloak with long, floppy bunny ears stitched into the hood. Beneath the cloak, a blood-red sweater stretched over their torso, the sleeves visible under the fluttering edges of the coat. A utility belt cinched tightly around their waist, lined with knives.
A black mask covered the lower half of their face, shaped into a sinister, toothy grin. Their hair was dyed pitch-black, not a single curl of its original color left untouched. And their eyes—or rather, what covered them—were obscured behind glowing red goggles. There was no skin, no hint of a true identity.
Whoever they were, they were completely concealed.
When they spoke, the voice was not natural. A rasping, distorted modulation came from a voice changer embedded somewhere behind the mask.
“So these are the U.A.’s precious students.” The figure spoke, laced with mocking amazement. “They look so much smaller in person.”
They didn’t introduce themselves. They didn’t need to. The villains that follow r them through the portal treated them like a commander. The Nomu stood perfectly still as the figure crouched comfortably atop its shoulders, scanning the class like a predator watching prey.
Todoroki narrowed his eyes. Something about the way the figure moved was calculated. Every breath, every tilt of their head. They weren’t just a recruit.
They were like a leader.
But who were they?
There had been no mention of a cloaked villain in their briefings. Nothing in the news. No known quirk profile.
Behind Todoroki, classmates began to panic. Thirteen tried to heed them back. Iida moved to escape and warn the school. But Todoroki couldn’t stop looking at the figure on the Nomu’s shoulders.
A thought crept into his mind—a ridiculous, impossible thought.
The shape of their movements, the weight in the stance, the careful distance maintained—he’d seen it before. In training.
In Midoriya.
But no. It couldn’t be. Midoriya was meek. Honest. A hero in every sense of the word.
And this figure—this masked monster—moved like a shadow. With confidence. With intent.
Still, a whisper of doubt curled inside his chest.
The figured raised a hand, snapping their fingers once. At that signal, the villains surged forward.
And the cloaked figure? They just smiled behind that toothy mask and remained silent.
Watching.
Waiting.
Smoke curled from the open portals, thick and acrid as the warped air hissed like steam. Kurogiri’s voice echoed low and calm, announcing their uninvited arrival into the USJ.
Izuku stay upon the Nomu’s broad shoulders, cloaked in the dark green hood that shadowed his masked face. The red goggles clicked into place, hiding the flash of his eyes. His voice changer was activated, his dyed black hair tucked beneath his hood. To the heroes and students, he was no one familiar. He was only Usagi—a myth, a threat, a ghost.
But Tomura knew the truth.
As the last tendrils of fog curled around his boots, Izuku jumped down from Nomu’s shoulders and landed beside Tomura with the fluid grace of someone who’d done this before.
The weight of his knives tapped against his utility belt, comforting and cold. He stood close to Tomura, brushing a hand across one of his sheathed blades without drawing it.
Tomura’s fingers twitched where they rested against his side, grazing their cracked, discolored hand that clung to his face—his father’s, probably. The others on his body remained like grotesque accessories, reminders of death. “Stick to the plan.” Izuku spoke through the distortion of the voice changer, his words warped, deeper. His eyes unready behold the tinted lenses.
Tomura turned his head toward him. “Your ice prince is looking our way.”
Izuku didn’t answer at first, his attention flickered toward the chaos in front of him.
Aizawa had already leapt into action, his scarf flaring like a whip as he took out the first wave of villains with precision and rage.
Izuku’s lips curled faintly behind his mask. “Don’t let Nomu touch Shouto.” He spoke. “Hurt the others. Kill Aizawa if you have to. But Shouto is mine.”
Tomura tilted his head, smirking faintly. “You’re becoming more obsessed, I like that. Keep corrupting him, I can already tell you’re almost there.”
Izuku turned his head just slightly. “Hush, I got this, no need to rush.”
With a tilt of his fingers, he gave the signal. Nomu lunged into action, pounding across the ground like a beast loosed from hell. Its muscles bulged unnaturally, skin obsidian and glistening with sciences blasphemy. But it veered—just barely—away from Todoroki’s position, heading instead toward Aizawa, just as Izuku had commanded.
While the battle began to explode in full force, Izuku backed off toward the shadows behind the Nomu, stretching his legs.
From a distance, he could still see Todoroki’s flame ignite briefly on his left side, could see the way his eyes narrowed in confusion.
Izuku’s heart pounded beneath the cloak, not from fear, but from thrill. He pressed a hand to his chest and chuckled under his breath.
He pulled one of his knives free, twirling it slowly between his gloved fingers. The blade caught the emergency lights over head, flickering like a predators tooth. A second blade came out. He played with both—gracefully, dangerously—letting the weight and speed comfort him. This wasn’t about fear. This was about watching everything come together.
Todoroki was still safe. Good. Nomu would listen, even in the heat of battle.
Tomura stood off toward the side now, arms crossed lazily as the villains clashed with the pro-hero. “It’s kind of beautiful, isn’t it?” Tomura mused. “The chaos. You did say you wanted to study how people broke.”
Izuku’s smile, though hidden, stretched wide beneath his mask. “I’m taking notes right now.”
His eyes flickered to Todoroki again. Amid the students huddling behind Thirteen, Todoroki wasn’t hiding. He was fighting, analyzing, strategizing. Perfect.
He felt his obsession sharpen into something more tender, more dangerous. He couldn’t wait to corner him again. To speak softly in his ear and press a kiss to his flushed cheek. To feel the flames again.
But first, h they had to break the hero’s.
And Izuku was so good at breaking things.
***
Aizawa moved like a coiled whip—fast, flexible, deadly.
But Izuku was already in motion before the scarf lashed out, his body tucking into a tight somersault as the steel-threaded fabric cracked through the air like a striking serpent.
He landed low, knife held in reverse grip, the polished blade glinting under the broken dome light.
“Combat analysis: Predicable lateral sweep. Blind side: left shoulder.”
Izuku grinned beneath the voice modulator of his mask, the synthetic grin painted on the metal plate now mirroring his own.
The masked villain known only to that League as “Usagi” blurred sideways, cutting across Aizawa’s right, then ducked under another whip of scarf, pivoting on his heel.
He launched himself upward with a flash of motion, foot spinning toward Aizawa’s chest in a hook-kick.
The Pro Hero blocked—barely.
Aizawa’s eyes were glowing red. His quirk was active, canceling everything. But Izuku wasn’t using a quirk.
He didn’t have one, which makes things better.
This was raw technique. Pure, deliberate violence.
His specialty.
The two clashed again—Izuku’s foot hammered against Aizawa’s forearm, and the impact shuddered through both of them.
Aizawa twisted, trying to sab him in the scarf mid-air, but Izuku let gravity carry him. He dropped like a stone, landing in a low crouch with one palm against the ground.
A minute later, he was gone.
No warning.
Just wind and silence.
Then—
CRACK!
He was behind Aizawa, slamming his elbow directly into the hero’s kidney, and while the older man staggered, Izuku used that opening to slash upward with his combat knife— catching the edge of Aizawa’s arm. Not deep, but it bled fast. Jagged.
“You’re not used to someone without a quirk being this fast.” Izuku spoke, voice distorted through the mask. His tone was light. Playful. “Am I throwing off your rhythm, Eraserhead?”
Aizawa didn’t respond. He gritted his teeth and swept his scarf in a wide arc, this time latching it to a nearby villain’s unconscious body to launch himself into a spin-kick.
Izuku flipped backward in time, the air whooshing past his face.
But even before he hit the ground, Izuku threw his combat knife.
The spin was tight. Flat. Precision-trained.
Aizawa deflected it, but not fast enough—the blade grazed the side of his jaw, slicing open a thin red line.
Blood dripped from his chin.
Izuku landed with one knee down, pulling a second blade from the sheath strapped to his thigh. He bounced once, shifting his weight side to side. His entire posture was loose, almost casual.
But Tomura was watching.
And Izuku wanted him to see everything.
Every feint. Every counter.
Every inch of control.
He rushed in again. This time, he faked low with a side-step, then vaulted over Aizawa’s shoulderusing the man’s own scarf as a foothold.
The second his boots left contact, he twisted midair and came down with a hard axe kick, forcing Aizawa to throw himself to the side.
Izuku hit the ground hard—and let the fall roll into a spring. He spun into a sweeping roundhouse, catching Aizawa just below the ribs.
“Hrk—!”
The impact knocked the hero back.
Izuku darted forward again. Fast.
Aizawa responded, dragging the scarf into a tight defensive coil—predictable.
Izuku sucked and slashed upward—
Rip—
This time, his knife tore through the lower hem of Aizawa’s pants, slicing the muscle of his thigh.
Aizawa staggered.
Izuku wasted no time.
He lunged forward, jabbing the blunt end of the knife into Aizawa’s solar plexus. Not lethal—but brutal. Enough to take his wind.
Aizawa dropped to one knee.
Izuku raised his blade.
“STOP—!”
The voice startled them both.
It echoed from across the rubble-strewn combat zone—a high-pitched scream.
Ochako. A student from the hero course……Shouto’s classmate……..classmate……. CLASSMATE!…….. HE’S MINE!
She was shouting from a nearby cliff of concrete, clutching a broken pipe like a bat.
Izuku turned his head, just for a second.
Aizawa tried to grab him.
Too slow.
Izuku kicked his arm away and he punched the Pro Hero in the throat—precisely, surgically.
Aizawa choked. Fell back. Gasping.
Still breathing.
But barely.
Izuku stepped over his body, the blade dripping. His breath came even and steady. He twirled the knife between his fingers, the motion clean and practiced, like a magician showing off a trick.
He glanced toward the platform where Tomura was perched, hands twitching, head tilting at a delighted angle.
Izuku smiled under the mask.
He didn’t need praise.
But he knew he'd earned it.
Chapter 16: Glacial Fire, Shattered Masks
Summary:
USJ Pt. 2
Chapter Text
Todoroki’s breaths came in short puffs of mist, the air around him frigid with lingering frost. Shards of ice still stood like a jagged monuments behind him, dozens of villains frozen mid-lunge or sealed to the ground by thick permafrost.
His right side ached, not from use—he hadn’t touched his flames once—but from restraint. He was still cautious, even now, with his fire. It wasn’t the time for doubt. Not when he could see blood on the pavement. Aizawa.
He darted forward through the carnage, vaulting over rubble and collapsing catwalks, focused only on one thing: finding his teacher.
Smoke and grit clogged the ruined entrance of the USJ. Todoroki caught sight of him—Aizawa—barely standing, and bloodied mess of tangled hair and shredded fabric.
He was in the middle of a brutal hand-to-hand brawl with one of the villains. No, not just a villain. Todoroki squinted as he slid to a halt.
It was him again.
That small, lithe figure, cloaked in a dark forest green hood with elongated bunny-like ears. His mask bore a twisted, sinister grin, and red-tinted goggles made his eyes unreadable.
There was something too fluid, too practiced about the way he moved—like a blade dancing on the edge of air. That wasn’t some random thug. Whoever this was, he was dangerous.
A flash of silver caught Todoroki’s eye—knives. Multiple, gleaming, balanced one, lining a utility belt across the villains hips.
Todoroki’s fingers twitched with instinct, reaching toward his side, ready to summon ice, but then froze again as he watched the villain pivot gracefully, narrowly dodging Aizawa’s capture cloth.
The villain spun low, faster than any student Todoroki had seen, and used the handle of one knife to jab into Aizawa’s side before flipping backward and landing in a low crouch, blades now fully drawn.
The moves wasn’t just tactical—it was meant to impress. But who?
Todoroki’s gaze flicked up toward the edge of the plaza and spotted two figures watching like shadows.
Kurogiri.
And the man with the grotesque hands.
Tomura Shigaraki.
He could hear their voices, even over the chaos.
“He’s holding back again.” Tomura muttered with a scratchy laugh, his fingers twitching near his neck. “He’s so soft for that boy.”
“The boy is precious to him, let him have his fun.” Kurogiri spoke, his dark fog pulsing.
The villain with the grin— Usagi, Todoroki had overheard on the of the villains call him—moved again, lunging with vicious precision, a slash grazing Aizawa’s arm. The teacher growled, tried to trap him again, but Usagi was too fast. Each move was choreographed like he was performing for an audience. For them.
Or was it for someone else?
A sharp pang surged in Todoroki’s chest, unexpected and unwelcome. He didn’t know this villain, and yet……his movements. His height. Even something about the way his hood fell. It all felt…..familiar.
He couldn’t think about that now. He threw out his arm.
A jagged wall of ice exploded in front of him as he charged forward, freezing the terrain between Usagi and Aizawa, trying to buy time. A barrier, at the very least. “Mr. Aizawa!” Todoroki yelled. “Get back!”
Aizawa stumbled behind the ice wall, panting heavily, eyes still locked on Usagi. The villain didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head and stared straight at Todoroki.
The air tightened between them. Something like recognition passed the red goggles.
Then the villain rushed him.
Todoroki grit his teeth and dropped his stance, letting ice skate beneath his shoes as he lunged back. He raised a wall, but Usagi twisted mid-air, rebounding off the slick surface with impossible agility, a blade aimed low toward Todoroki’s side.
Todoroki barely parried with a frozen spoke from his palm, feeling the shock of contact reverberate up in his arm.
It was fast. Too fast. Whoever this was, he’d been trained to fight professionals.
But he wasn’t going for the kill shots.
The slashes were close, calculated—every cut designed to test, not maim. Almost like…..restraint.
Todoroki responded in kind, letting his ice build with every pivot and dodge. “Who are you?” He finally demanded, voice sharp. “Why are you holding back?”
Usagi didn’t answer. His voice—when it came—was warped by the mechanical growl of a voice changer. “You’re not my target.”
He lunged again, but Todoroki grabbed a thick spire and shattered it into a cold mist to obscure the next strike.
When the fog lifted, the villain had retreated a few paces, panting softly.
Their eyes met.
And then….something shifted.
A new presence surged through the USJ.
Wind.
Sound.
A thunderous boom cracked across the building, like a blue-and-red blur torn through the sky dome above.
“All Might!” Todoroki’s heart stuttered in his chest.
The symbol of peace landed hard, sending shockwaves through the earth. His eyes were locked on Tomura.
“I AM HERE!”
Tomura recoiled, fingers clenching. “I told you.” He hissed, voice like glass scraping wood. “I hate him.”
Usagi tensed beside him, fists curling around his knives.
Todoroki narrowed his gaze. Something had changed.
Gone was the showmanship. Gone was the playful spin of blades.
In its place was raw, burning hatred. Directed not at Todoroki.
But at All Might.
“He ruins everything.” Usagi muttered low, too quiet for Todoroki to hear. His voice was no longer disguised. “I hate him.”
Tomura extended a hand. “Nomu.” He snapped, and pointed.
Todoroki turned just in time to see the hulking monster roar to life behind them.
The Nomu burst forward like a train derailed, charging All Might with seismic force.
And behind it, standing tall with knives drawn, a cloak billowing behind him and red goggles glinting like a beast unmasked.
Usagi clicked his tongue, standing next to Tomura, refusing to fight head on with the number one hero.
***
The Nomu’s scream tore through the USJ as it collided with All Might. The impact sent out a shockwave, shattering glass, cracking the earth. Dust filled the air like smoke on a battlefield, and Izuku— Usagi— stood above it all, the blood-red lenses of his mask catching the flickering emergency lights.
Beside him, Tomura twitched violently. “He’s not going down— why isn’t he going down?!”
The Nomu swung again, fist like a boulder, but All Might met it midair, blocking with a forearm that had cracked mountains. Muscles bulged, steam hissed from his body, and his face—grim, determined—twisted into something almost bestial.
And for a moment, Izuku felt it again.
That childhood awe. The sense that All Might could not lose.
His heart pounded.
But this time, he wasn’t the big watching from a television screen, eating microwaved soba alone in the dark.
No—he was Usagi now. Watching from above, from the League’s side.
And this time, he wanted All Might to die.
Nomu bellowed again and charged, but All Might met him halfway. Their fists collided like meteors—Nomu’s reinforced musculature cracking, snapping—yet still, it fought. But Izuku saw the tide turning.
Too fast. He gritted his teeth behind the voice modulator.
All Might was adapting.
He was winning.
“Not enough. He’s too strong….” Tomura was muttering. “It’s not fair.”
Izuku’s fingers twitched at his sides. He should’ve felt excited, watching the chaos unfold. Students in fear. Heroes too late. A symbol falling.
But watching the Nomu get pummeled—bones breaking, flesh caving—he didn’t feel victory.
He felt frustration.
“He’s wearing it down.” Izuku spoke through the mask. “Nomu’s regeneration isn’t keeping up.”
Tomura scratched harder, fingernails digging into his neck. “Kurogiri—prepare extraction. I’m not letting that bastard smile and walk away from this.”
But the storm wasn’t over.
With a hiss and flash of light, the emergency doors exploded open, and more figures rushed into the USJ like floodwater.
“STAY CLEAR OF THE CENTRAL ZONE!” Came a booming voice.
Pro heroes.
Thirteen, Cementoss, Midnight, Ectoplasm—some Izuku recognized from years of obsessive notebooks and grainy livestreams.
And then……
A voice like home.
“YEAHHHH! What’s up, disaster zone?! PRESENT MIC IN THE HOUSE!!”
That voice—loud, bright, unapologetic— cut through everything.
Izuku froze.
His heart lurched in a way it hadn’t in years.
From across the shattered plaza, President Mic landed in a crouch. Blonde hair glowing in the artificial lights, shades glinting like fire.
He was barking orders through his quirk, shattering villain illusions, guiding evac routes, rallying students.
“Move toward the back! Heroes incoming, stay low and stay behind me—“
Izuku’s throat tightened.
He hadn’t meant to freeze.
But he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
President Mic. HIzashi Yamada. The one teacher never sneered when he raised his hand. Who asked if he wanted to eat lunch together. Who gave him his first compliment about his homework, about his smarts, about him.
He was everything a hero should be.
And Izuku—no, Usagi— was standing on the other side of the line now.
His knives remained sheathed.
His body trembled.
Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t look. Don’t you dare hurt him.
Tomura didn’t notice. “He’s ruining everything!” He shouted. “Nomu—KILL HIM! KILL ALL MIGHT!”
Izuku didn’t answer.
He couldn’t.
But someone else noticed him.
Someone who didn’t freeze.
BOOM.
An explosion lit up the corridor behind him, searing heat licking across his back. The metal walkway bent under impact, and Izuku dove off the side just in time, flipping through the smoke and landing in a crouch on the ground below.
His head snapped up—red lenses scanning.
“Found you, freak.”
The voice was unmistakable,
Katsuki Bakugou stood on the fractured concrete like a vengeful god, swear igniting off his palms in hissing bursts. His crimson eyes locked on Usagi with pure hatred.
“I don’t know who the hell you are.” He growled. “But you’re gonna regret coming here.”
Izuku said nothing.
Not a word.
He couldn’t risk it.
But inside—something cracked.
Because Katsuki’s face hadn’t changed at all. Still smug. Still cruel. Still acting like he owned the world and everyone in it.
Flash
A hand grabbing his collar. “Why’re still breathing, Deku?”
Flash
A notebook scorched, pages flaking apart. “Pathetic.”
Flash
Laughter. Silence. Pain.
The tremble in Izuku’s hands vanished.
He stood slowly.
And he attacked.
It was not the hesitant flailing of a powerless boy. It was swift, sharp, practiced violence. The dagger in his hand gleamed as he struck low—non lethal, but dangerous.
Katsuki just barely dodged, boots skidding as he retaliated with a wild blast.
“Fast—!” Katsuki cursed. “Tch….you think you’re better than me huh?!”
Izuku struck again. And again. The twin daggers danced in the air like silver tongues, slicing through Katsuki’s gauntlets, cutting shallow lines across his arm, his side. It wasn’t enough to drop him—but it was enough to hurt.
To remind him.
Katsuki responded with a roar and launched forward, palms detonating point-blank.
Izuku raised his arm, his armor taking the brunt, but the blast still sent him sliding back across the rubble.
“You’re not so tough without your toys, villain!” Katsuki snarled. “Come on! Take the mask off and fight like a really villain!”
But Izuku didn’t answer.
He let the silence haunt him.
Then he charged.
Their fight turned primal—raw speed versus explosive power. Every time Katsuki moved, Izuku moved faster. His footwork was brutal and clean, honed from hours of knife drills and sparring with Tomura. Each clash echoed through the air like gunshots.
But the worst part?
Katsuki still didn’t know.
He didn’t recognize the person beneath the hood.
Izuku wanted to scream. To rip off the mask. To make him see.
But he didn’t.
Couldn’t.
So instead, he let the knives do the talking.
He dodged another blast, spun, and drove the pommel of his dagger into Katsuki’s ribs with a vicious grunt. The blonde stumbled, wheezing—but before Izuku could strike again, a wall of concrete shot up between them.
“THAT’S ENOUGH!”
Cementoss. Mic. More heroes moving in.
“Usagi, retreat—NOW!” Tomura barked from behind.
Kurogiri’s portal swirled open in the corner of Izuku’s vision.
“Next time.” Katsuki spat, wiping blood from his mouth. “I’ll blast that damn mask off your face.”
Izuku stated at him for a heartbeat longer.
Silent.
Then he turned—and vanished into the shadows.
Chapter 17: The Mask Beneath the Smile
Summary:
A spicy chapter ;)
Notes:
I'm posting this late since I just got off work and forgot this morning
Chapter Text
The air in Izuku’s apartment was still, almost too still. The curtains were drawn, the clock on the wall ticked louder than it should’ve, and the only light came from the flickering neon signs bleeding through the window from the streets below.
He stood in the middle of the room—villain costume stripped away, the red sweater from earlier thrown over the back of a chair, his green cloak lying in a heap on the floor like the discarded skin of something darker.
He had taken out the black dye from earlier, but the dye clung to his finger, staining his nails. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear. From rage.
That smug smile…..that false beacon of peace. All Might.
Izuku’s jaw clenched tightly, remembering how the Symbol of Peace had burst into the USJ like a one-man army, like a god crashing through clouds. And the Nomu—his Nomu—had faltered, staggered under the weight of power it was made to withstand.
Watching it happen twisted something in Izuku’s chest. Rage. He had wanted to be the one to kill All Might.
He had stayed back near Tomura during the worst of it. Tomura’s voice still echoed in his ears.
“They weren’t supposed to interfere this early….damn heroes….”
Then Mic had shown up.
Mic.
Aizawa’s best friend. The one teacher Izuku had ever admired. He couldn’t bring himself to attack him. Not Mic. Not yet.
He hissed through his teeth, stalking across the apartment and tossing the knife up, flipping it with practiced fingers. He thought of Bakugou, that exploding, arrogant bastard. The way he charged in like a bull, daring to strike at him— after everything.
All the years of bullying, humiliation. That sneer, that superiority. And yet, Bakugou didn’t recognize him.
No one did.
Usagi was a ghost—an entity of terror and myth. Not Izuku Midoriya, the boy who had cried himself to sleep for years.
The thrill sound cut through the silence.
He blinked, stepping forward to check the caller.
Snowflake ❄️.
Izuku inhaled sharply, his eyes widening.
He let it ring once. Twice. Then he forced himself to breathe, lowering his tone to something light, something sweet.
He pressed answer.
“Hey, Shouto.” He spoke, the smile audible in his voice.
“Midoriya.” Todoroki’s voice was a little hoarse, tired—like he’d been through hell. “Are you…okay?”
Izuku’s heart skipped. He almost laughed. Was he okay?
“I’m fine. What about you? You sound exhausted.”
“……We were attacked.” Todoroki’s voice was flag, but even through the phone Izuku could hear something underneath it. Disbelief. Residual adrenaline. “At the USJ. I thought it was just a drill. Then they came out of nowhere. Villains. Hundreds of them. It was real.”
Izuku breath hitched in a mock gasp. “Oh my god….I heard something on the news, but they haven’t released any details yet. That’s insane.” He leaned into the performance. “Are you hurt?”
“….A little. Bruised. Nothing serious.” A pause. Then—“I don’t wanna go home.”
Izuku softened his voice. “Endeavor?”
Another pause. “Yeah.”
“Come over.” Izuku spoke quickly. “I’ll patchy you up. It’s no trouble, I promise.”
“…..You sure?”
Izuku didn’t even hesitate. “Of course. You know I’d do anything for you.” He caught himself just before his voice slipped into something too emotional, too revealing. He grinned, cradling the phone between his cheek and shoulder.
There was a pause on the line. Then, finally—
“…Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
Just before Todoroki could hang up, he added. “Midoriya?”
“Yeah?”
“….Thank you.”
Izuku giggled, cheeks warm, fingers rubbing nervously at the gem of his t-shirt. “Don’t mention it.” He whispered, his tone softer than it should have been for a villain who just fought heroes to the brink of death.
He stared at the phone after the call ended, then screen glowing in the dark.
His heart raced.
Shouto was coming.
And tonight, Usagi would be forgotten for a little while. Tonight, he could pretend—just a bit longer—to be the one Todoroki trusted.
***
The news played softly in the background as Izuku lit a single candle in the bathroom, its flame casting a warm, flickering glow across the tiles. The steam was already beginning to fog the mirror, the scent of eucalyptus and mind rising from the bath water. He’d chosen it carefully—clean, soothing, something Todoroki wouldn’t question. The kind of detail Izuku had learned to pay attention to, even back when he’d been nothing but invisible.
He wiped his hands on a towel, stepping back to examine the space. Everything was perfect.
From the living room, the television continued its cycle: dramatic and red banners scrolling across the bottom of the screen, the voice of a female news anchor trembling with the gravity of her report.
“—several students injured, one critically, following a surprise attack on the U.A. training facility earlier today. Police and Pro Heroes continue to investigate the incident. While the perpetrators remain unidentified, eyewitnesses report the presence of a large, monstrous creature that engaged with All Might himself—“
Izuku smiled thinly, still in the oversized hoodie he threw on after removing his Usagi gear. He didn’t sit. He watched the screen like a hawk. They don’t know it was me. None of them know.
His phone buzzed.
A U.A. notice had come in—standardized and cold.
[U.A. Alert System]: Due to the security breach, all classes have been suspended for the next 48 hours while an investigation is underway. Stay safe.
Convenient, Izuku thought, locking the phone and walking back toward the couch. The flickering images on the screen showed students with blurred faces being led out of the facility, and a brief shot of All Might mid-combat—muscles bulging, the symbol of peace backlit.
But they hadn’t shown him. Not Usagi. Not yet.
That suited him just fine.
A knock came at the door. Three short taps. No hesitation.
Izuku hurried over, heart kicking up. He sung it open—and there stood Todoroki.
His uniform was slightly torn, his left eye swollen faintly. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and one of his sleeves were burned and tattered, probably from the close-range fights.
Izuku gasped immediately, stepping aside.
“Shouto—! You didn’t say you looked this bad—!”
“I told you. Just bruised.” Todoroki spoke, stepping in. He glanced around the apartment briefly, eyes scanning the clean layout, the neutral colors, the soft light. “Smells like mint.”
“I drew you a bath.” Izuku spoke brightly, pretending his heart wasn’t hammering in his chest. “You said you were sore, and I know heat helps muscle tension, so—“
Todoroki didn’t argue. He offered a faint nod of gratitude and toed off his shoes.
Izuku led him toward the bathroom, pointing awkwardly at the closed door. “It’s already filled. I put towels in there. You can take your time. I’ll get the first-aid kit ready.”
“…Thanks, Midoriya.” Todoroki spoke, voice quieter now.
Izuku just smiled. “I’m happy to help.”
The moment Todoroki disappeared into the bathroom and the door clicked shut, Izuku released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His body slumped, just slightly, like the tension had been wound into his bones.
He paced back into the living room and grabbed his phone again.
Another buzz.
Not from the school this time.
Tomura.
[Tomu]: You should be watching the net. You’re trending.
[Tomu]: Usagi. First whispers on the villain boards. Some people think you’re a myth. Others are saying you’re the one who took down three heroes today. You made quite the debut.
Izuku stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the screen. His pulse raced, not just with the residual thrill of combat, but with something deeper. Something darker.
He could feel it beginning. The thing he’d built in silence, in shadows—it was taking form now. Growing.
He thought of All Might again.
Of that radiant grin. The cheers that always followed him.
Izuku typed back quickly, almost viciously.
[Zuzu]: It’s not enough.
[Zuzu]: I want them terrified. I want them to know the name. Every classroom. Every hero.
[Zuzu]: Especially HIM.
Another buzz. Tomura again.
[Tomu]: Careful, Midoriya. Don’t burn too hot too fast. You still want to stay under the radar, right? The kid acts working.
Izuku smirked.
Then deleted the entire conversation.
A soft splash echoed from the bathroom. The door remained closed, but Izuku could faintly hear the water shift as Todoroki moved.
He imagined Todoroki’s form beneath the water—relaxed, shoulders slumped, eyes closed. Vulnerable. Trusting.
And Izuku’s chest ached with something unnamable.
He turned back toward the hallway and called gently. “Shouto? You need anything?”
There was a pause, then a muffled. “No. The water feels good.”
Izuku smiled again. Sweet. Safe. Normal.
Just a boy. Just a…….friend?…….no, he refused.
But as he glanced down at his phone again, his reflection caught in the black glass screen, he didn’t see Izuku Midoriya.
He saw the ghost in the red sweater.
He saw Usagi.
***
The bathroom door creaked open.
Izuku, seated at the edge of his couch with a towel slung over one shoulder and the first-aid kit open beside him, immediately glanced up. His heart did a funny lurch in his chest.
Todoroki stepped out, wrapped in a dark green towel Izuku had offered earlier. Another hung around his shoulders, catching droplets from his still-damp hair. Steam ghosted out behind him, curling into the air like mist. His two-toned hair clung to his forehead in messy tufts, flushed pink from the heat of the water, and the scar around his left eye looked softer somehow, less rigid. More human.
Izuku’s throat went dry.
Todoroki looked calm—but Izuku could see it. The fatigue, the quiet tension still coiled beneath his skin like a spring half-wound. His steps were slow, deliberate. Like he didn’t want to startle the moment.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” Todoroki spoke, voice low as he approached.
“I wanted to.” Izuku spoke quickly, almost too quickly. He patted the couch next to him and gave a sheepish smile. “Sit down, I’ll patch you up. You might have scratched you didn’t even notice.”
Todoroki obeyed, sitting with a quiet exhale. The towel shifted slightly, exposing the sharp angle of his collarbone and the faint pink scratches near his shoulder from one of the Nomu’s claws.
Izuku swallowed and grabbed the disinfectant, trying desperately to focus.
He dabbed at a cut on Todoroki’s arm first—one just under the bicep. “This might sting.”
“It’s fine.”
“You always say that.” Izuku murmured. “But you’re covered in bruises.”
“….It’s still fine.”
Izuku smiled again, gentler this time. “You know, I think you and I are the same like that.”
Todoroki glanced sideways at him, raising a brow.
“We both hide it. When things hurt.” Izuku spoke, dipping a fresh cotton pad into alcohol. “We pretend it’s fine, even when it’s not.”
There was a beat of silence. The kind that felt heavy. Honest.
“….Maybe.” Todoroki murmured.
Izuku moved carefully, tending to the wound near his shoulder. His fingers brushed bare skin.
Todoroki didn’t flinch.
“You’re always so warm.” Izuku whispered, the words escaping before he could think. “It’s…kinda nice.”
Todoroki didn’t answer. He just turned his head slightly, watching Izuku’s face.
Izuku cleared his throat, cheeks pink, and reached for a clean towel. “You shouldn’t go to bed with wet hair. It’s bad for you. Here—let me.”
He stood and moved behind Todoroki, carefully pressing the towel against his scalp. He ruffled it gently, drying the soft tufts with careful, circular motions.
Todoroki sat perfectly still beneath his hands, like a statue letting himself be sculpted.
Izuku’s tone softened. “Are you sure you wanted to come over? I didn’t want to force you over.”
“I wanted to.”
Izuku hummed, continuing to dry his hair.
“I’m glad you came here, then.” Izuku spoke after a pause. “I like having you here. I always do.”
Todoroki didn’t move, but Izuku could feel the shift in his shoulders—tense, uncertain. As if he were trying to decide something.
“So…” Izuku began slowly, fingers lingering in his damp hair. “Since we’re off for two days…”
Todoroki tilted his head slightly.
Izuku swallowed his nerves and asked, voiced hushed but hopeful. “Do you maybe want to go out with me? Just us. On a date, I mean.”
Silence.
Izuku’s hands froze.
Then—
“…Yeah.” Todoroki spoke softly.
Izuku blinked. “Wait—really?”
“I’d like that.”
The words were calm, but the blush spreading across Todoroki’s face spoke everything else. The pink deepened across his cheeks, right to the tips of his ears.
Izuku giggled, cheeks aflame as he slowly steeped around to see Todoroki’s face. His heart was hammering.
Todoroki’s stared up at him.
The same way he looked at a battlefield. Unflinching. Steady.
But there was something else behind his gaze now—something warmer. Hungrier.
Izuku was about to speak again—maybe make a joke, something to ease the sudden thickness in the air—but the words died in his throat.
Because Todoroki wasn’t looking away.
His eyes were locked onto Izuku’s face, then his lips.
Then back at his eyes.
Izuku’s breath caught.
“Shouto…?” He spoke softly, though his voice trembled.
Todoroki leaned in.
Slow. Deliberate.
His half-dried hair brushed lightly against Izuku’s cheek, and Izuku could feel the warmth radiating off his bare skin, the heat of the bath still clinging to him like a second layer.
Izuku’s face turned crimson.
His hands clenched at his sides.
He should’ve pulled away. He should’ve.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he leaned in too.
Their noses almost brushed.
Izuku’s voice was a whisper. “You’re really close…”
“So are you.” Todoroki whispered back, his tone low and soft, almost reverent.
There was a beat.
One fragile heart was of silence between them.
Then—
A buzz.
Izuku flinched.
His phone lit up on the table behind him, vibrating against the wood.
He blinked rapidly, heart pounding in his chest like a snare drum.
Todoroki pulled back slightly, his breath slow, exhale brushing Izuku’s lips.
Neither of them said anything right away.
“…..I-I’ll get that.” Izuku mumbled, barely able to look him in the eye.
But his cheeks were bright scarlet. And Todoroki was still watching him. Not just glancing—but watching, like Izuku had just become the center of his world.
And somehow….that felt more dangerous than any villain Izuku had ever faced.
Chapter 18: Ashes on a Spark
Summary:
A little fluff action
Notes:
After this chapter I will be going on a break for a week since my exams are coming up. I should return next friday with a new chapter.
Chapter Text
The sun was still shy above the horizon when Todoroki stepped out of Izuku’s bedroom, his hair slightly tousled and his expression soft from sleep. He had stayed the night—something that had become more common lately, though neither of them had spoken about bit out loud.
The apartment was quiet, save for the faint sound of the shower running. Todoroki took a seat on the couch, waiting, surrounded by the lingering smell of mint shampoo and green tea.
Izuku emerged a few minutes later, wrapped in a towel and still damp, his freckled face lighting up the moment he saw Todoroki. “You’re up early.” He spoke with a grin, disappearing into his room to get dressed.
“You said we could get breakfast.” Todoroki spoke when Izuku returned, dressed in a soft hoodie two sizes too big, paired with black joggers and his usual combat boots laced lazily at the ankle. “I didn’t want to miss that.”
Izuku rolled his eyes affectionately and his hands, holding it. “You could’ve slept in.”
“I didn’t want to.”
***
They walked to a quiet café near the edge of the city, where the view overlooked the park. Over tea and rice omelets, they laughed more than they talked—easy, quiet moments punctuated by the occasional brush of knees and fingers across the table.
Halfway through their second cup, Todoroki set down his glass and said. “I’ve decided I’m joining the sports festival.”
Izuku blinked, then nodded. “I figured you would. It’s a big opportunity.”
“It’s also expected.” Todoroki added, gaze fixed on the steam curling from his tea.
Izuku’s brow furrowed, noticing the tension in Todoroki’s jaw. “Because of…….Endeavor.”
Todoroki didn’t answer at first. But then he looked up, and something flickered behind his eyes. “Partly. But……I want to show who I am. On my own terms.”
Izuku’s hand inched across the table, gently brushing Todoroki’s. “Then I’ll help you train.” He spoke simply. “If you want.”
Todoroki blinked, caught off guard. “You would?”
“Of course.” Izuku’s smile was small but sincere. “Just because I’m not competing doesn’t mean I won’t be your biggest fan.”
Todoroki looked away, ears pink. “Thanks. I…..I’d like that.”
As they finished their meal and stepped outside, the late morning sun spilled between the buildings, casting soft warmth over the sidewalks.
Their hands found each other again, fingers entwining naturally.
They walked like that toward the park, with a plan to scout out places Todoroki could train privately.
And then—
“Seriously? You’re with him?”
The sharp voice tore through the quiet like a blade.
Izuku flinched, immediately recognizing the familiar, guttural sound. His entire posture stiffened before he turned.
Bakugou stood a few feet away, hands stuffed in his pockets, expression twisted in that familiar mix of annoyance and disbelief. His usual black-and-orange hoodie was half unzipped, revealing a tank top underneath and edges of his gloves.
His crimson eyes flickered between Izuku and Todoroki’s still-clasped hands, disgust twisting his mouth.
“Didn’t think anyone could be more pathetic than Deku.” Bakugou scoffed. “Guess I was wrong.”
Izuku didn’t rise to it. Not right away. He blinked once, shoulders tensed, lips parting as though to speak—only to falter. His fingers twisted in Todoroki’s.
Todoroki, on the other hand, took a step forward, his grip tightening.
“I don’t remember inviting you to our date.” He spoke coolly.
Bakugou’s smirk widened. “Date? You’re calling this a date?” He jabbed a thumb at Izuku, snorting. “Didn’t think you were into charity cases.”
Todoroki’s expression didn’t change, but something could flickered in his gaze. “You talk too much.”
Izuku finally spoke, his voice quiet but cutting. “Kacchan.”
Bakugou looked at him then—really looked—and something flickered behind his glare. Something unreadable.
But Izuku just smiled, soft and weaponized. “You always hated it when I smiled, didn’t you?
Bakugou’s lip curled, but Todoroki stepped in before he could retort. “He’s not yours to bully anymore.”
For a long beat, none of them moved.
Then Bakugou scoffed, turning away with a shrug. “Whatever. You two losers deserve each other.”
He stalked off without looking back, his shoulders tense with something that didn’t quite look like anger.
Izuku watched him go, his own hands trembling slightly.
“You okay?” Todoroki asked, gently touching his arm.
Izuku hesitated…..then nodded. “I am now.”
Todoroki exhaled and tugged him forward. “Come on. Let’s go train. I don’t want to waste any more time on people who don’t matter.”
***
The duo had walked for a while, finding a quiet clearing behind the park—secluded enough to avoid wandering eyes but open enough to spar freely.
As they stretched, Todoroki caught himself glancing at Izuku again and again. The way the siblings caught the green strands of his hair. The way he moved with quiet confidence, even in stillness.
Izuku grinned as he rolled his shoulders. “You keep staring. Do I have something on my face?”
“Only beauty.” Todoroki spoke without thinking.
Izuku blinked, heat rushing up his cheeks. “You—! That’s not fair—!”
Todoroki smiled faintly, satisfied with the pink crawling up Izuku’s neck.
Every glance lingered longer. Every brush of fingers during a maneuver felt charged.
When they paused for water, their knees touched and stayed. And when they finally sat together in the grass beneath a tree, catching their breath, Todoroki looked at Izuku like he was memorizing him.
Izuku didn’t look away.
Their hands found each other again, and this time neither of them let go.
***
Later that evening, Izuku slipped into the familiar shadows of the bar, hoodie pulled up and hands deep in his pockets. The chill of evening clung to his skin, but his expression was warm—far too warm for someone entering a den of villains.
The bar was quiet as always, a low hum of electricity the only sound apart from the soft clink of a glass being polished behind the counter.
Kurogiri looked up as he stepped inside, purple mist curling lazily around his shoulders. “Young Midoriya.” He greeted, voice smooth. “You look…..satisfied.”
“Izuku.” Tomura muttered from his usual corner, sprawled on the torn couch with a game controller dangling from his fingers. “You’re grinning again. You must of had a nice time out with your ice prince.”
Izuku tossed back his hood and didn’t even bother hiding the flush across his cheeks. “You could say that.”
Kurogiri set the glass down with a soft clink. “Todoroki, I assume?”
“Who else?” Izuku flopped onto the barstool, chin resting on his palm. “He stayed over last night. Again. That’s, what, the second time this week?”
Tomura snorted. “You should like a teenager in love.”
Izuku shrugged, unbothered. “Maybe I am.”
Kurogiri chuckled. “And is our little spark responding as hoped?”
Izuku paused. His smile faded into something quieter. “Yeah. He trusts me now. More than I expected, honestly. I think he’s falling for me.”
Tomura’s red eyes gleamed, interested now. “Good. Then keep feeding that. He’s powerful. Controlled. Respected. If you can get him to question the system more—really question it—he could become an assistant bring down the hero society.”
“I know.” Izuku murmured, eyes unfocused. “But….I don’t want to hurt him.”
“You won’t.” Kurogiri spoke evenly. “You’re giving him a choice. The heroes never gave us that.”
Tomura leaned back, resting his chin on the back of his hand. “Just make sure he keeps thinking you’re the one who understands him best. Isolate him, emotionally. If he turns, he won’t just leave the hero side—he’ll come straight to you.”
Izuku didn’t respond right away. He pulled out his phone and stared at the photo on his Lock Screen—Todoroki, caught mid-laugh in the park earlier that day.
Izuku had told him a stupid joke. He barely remembered what it was. But Todoroki had looked so happy, like he hadn’t laughed in years.
“Right.” Izuku spoke softly. “I’ll handle it.”
Kurogiri reached for another glass, the mist curling thoughtfully. “And the Sports Festival?”
“I’m not competing.” Izuku spoke. “Obviously. I’ve already told Todoroki I’ll be watching though. Taking notes. Observing. Honestly, it’s perfect. Everyone’ll be too distracted to notice if something else happens behind the scenes.”
“Something like an accident?” Tomura’s lips curled.
“Or a warning.” Izuku offered, eyes sharp now. “Subtle. But enough to shake the foundation.”
Tomura grinned wide, delighted. “That’s our Usagi.”
But before anyone could say more, a low beep echoed from the wall-mounted monitor behind the bar. The screen blinked on, and the text AUDIO ONLY appeared across the surface. The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Izuku straightened.
A familiar voice emerged from the speakers—smooth, deep, and calculated.
“Good evening, Midoriya.”
The bar went still.
“All For One?” Izuku spoke evenly, heart suddenly in his throat.
“I’ve heard much about your progress.” The voice continued. “Tomura has kept me informed, but I wanted to speak to you directly.”
Tomura shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t interrupt. Kurogiri stood still, eyes unreadable.
“I must say, your ability to blend into enemy ranks has exceeded expectations. You’ve not only gained proximity to powerful heroes, but you’ve began to influence one of their most dangerous assets.”
“I’m doing what was asked.” Izuku spoke, voice calm despite the weight pressing on his chest. “I’m earning trust. Gathering intel. Planting doubt.”
“More than that.” All For One spoke. “You’ve become something they never anticipated—a symbol. Not of fear, but of love. Loyalty. Hope. It’s…poetic, don’t you think?”
Izuku’s throat tightened.
“You walk among them wearing the skin of a hero, and still—your heart burns with purpose. You haven’t forgotten who you are.”
“I haven’t.” Izuku spoke, though the word came slower now.
All For One’s voice dropped slightly. “Good. Because it’s time for your next assignment.”
Izuku’s gaze sharpened. “What is it?”
“A hero.” All For One spoke. “Someone who wears the mask of justice but bathes in the blood of the forgotten. Their crimes are veiled by media praise, but their corruption runs deep.”
A file flashed across the screen, encrypted and locked.
“Their name is Yamada Takeo. ” All For One continued. “A support hero with a reputation for civilian rescues. But he’s sold half his gear designs to private mercenary companies. He’s allowed innocent lives to be taken just to test product durability.”
Izuku’s hands clenched around the edge of the bar.
“He never deserved the title ‘hero’. End him.”
Izuku nodded once, slowly. “I will.”
“Good. But remember…you’re not just a tool. You’re the spark that will become the fire. Let them love you. Let them trust you. And when they finally open their arms—burn everything down.”
The screen went dark.
Izuku sat still for a long moment, then finally looked up.
Kurogiri leaned forward, voice quieter now. “But don’t lose sight of why we started this.”
Izuku’s expression was unreadable. “I haven’t.”
He stood, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Send me everything on Yamada. I’ll handle it.”
Kurogiri nodded.
“And Todoroki?” Tomura asked.
Izuku paused by the door, hoodie casting a shadow over his eyes.
“He’s not ready yet.” He spoke softly. “But he will be.”
And with that, he disappeared into the night, the smell of smoke and green tea clinging faintly to the air behind him.
Chapter 19: Weighted Silence
Summary:
A little fluff and a hint of possessive behavior, but we love that.
Notes:
IM BACK! I passed my exam! Chemistry is not for the weak, but I did it.
https://x.com/doortodusk0?s=21&t=aICXMt-8y4WL3NjawSNZgQ
I also made a twitter account, so come follow me for updates or just to chat 😆
Chapter Text
The night was windless, suffocating in its stillness. Neon lights from the city below bled into dense fog curling through the streets, dimming the stars and painting everything in a haze of polluted color.
Izuku stood on the edge of a rooftop, cloaked in dark green fabric of his lightweight villain costume. The long hood trailed in the breeze like a whisper, its sewn-on bunny ears twitching slightly with each subtle gust.
His voice changer was silent, and his mask—twister in its permanent, sinister grin—reflected the glow of passing traffic far below. Red lenses covered his eyes, hiding the calculated intensity burning within them.
Tonight’s target: Yamada Takeo.
A support hero by title, but a parasite in practice. Takeo had earned a name crafting high-tech gear for licensed heroes, but behind closed doors, he sold dangerous prototypes to black-market mercenaries.
He had one been a mentor to a young hero who died due to faulty tech—covered up with money and power.
All For One’s files were thorough.
Kurogiri’s portal had delivered Izuku a block away from the targets workshop—an armored warehouse nestled between two faux-empty apartment complexes. The building was locked behind biometric scanners and cloaked with civilian-grade illusions to appear abandoned.
Izuku didn’t need the front door.
Perched high, he surveyed the side alley—Takeo’s pattern revealed he always stepped outside for a cigarette at 11:48 p.m. sharp. Predictable. Vulnerable.
Izuku pressed two fingers to his earpiece—silent—just listening. Footsteps echoed faintly from below. Right on time.
Taeko exited, grumbling under his breath, cigarette already between his lips. His wide shoulders shifted beneath a reinforced lab coat, and his bracers glowed faintly with embedded quirk-amplifying circuitry. The man had no direct combat quirk, but his gear could amplify his physical strength by fifty percent. Unless against a ghost.
Izuku leapt.
He landed silently behind the man, his boots making no sound against concrete.
The moment Takeo flicked his lighter, Izuku struck. One arm looked around his throat while the other pressed a paralyzing toxin-soaked needle into the man’s shoulder—one of Mei’s prototypes, repurposed for a slower effect.
Takeo struggled, but his limps grew sluggish in seconds.
“Wha—who—?” Takeo rasped.
Izuku didn’t speak. He dragged backward into the alley, then through a narrow maintenance door he unlocked earlier. The hallway was dark, full of old parts and blinking sensors.
Izuku pressed Takeo against the wall and finally leaned in, voice masked into a distorted growl:
“You sold a shoulder mount to a mercenary who killed a mother and child in Hosu last year. I watched the footage. You made that possible.”
Takeo chocked on fear. “You—you’re lying! You don’t know anything—!”
Izuku tilted his head. His gloved hand reached into his cloak and revealed a small holoprojector.
With a click, he projected the archived footage of the mercenary wielding Takeo’s unique tech, complete with serial data. The scream of the child’s mother echoed faintly off the metal walls.
“No more victims.” Izuku whispered.
The light from the projector disappeared. Izuku stepped back and activated a smoke pellet with a flick of his wrist. Vision blurred—then a blade glinted.
In a movement like fluid shadow, Izuku unsheathed a slender combat knife from his thigh, slid under Takeo’s punch, and cut across the side of his knee—not to kill, but to drop him.
Takeo fell, screaming, as he augmented bracers sparked from damage.
Izuku kicked the device off with surgical precision, then slammed his foot into the man’s side, pinning him.
He crouched low.
“I wanted you to feel fear before you died.” He spoke gently. “The way your tech made others feel powerless.”
With one last look through the red of his lenses, he plunged the blade deep into Takeo’s chest—angled to pierce both heart and silence.
No alarms. No siren's. Just the hiss off Takeo’s final breath.
Izuku stood up, exhaled, and cleaned the blade. His gloves were spotless—made for this. His mind was calm. There was no thrill—only cold satisfaction. Only justice.
He opened a secure line to Tomura.
“It’s done.” Izuku spoke. “Target neutralized. No evidence left behind.”
Tomura’s static-laced voice spoke through the comms. “Perfect. You’re getting better. Almost beautiful, really. You looked like a shadow back there.”
Izuku didn’t reply. He stepped outside and looked at the skyline.
From his belt, he pulled out his phone, a photo of Todoroki on his Lock Screen, smiling in the distance on their recent date.
He traced the screen with his thumb.
“You deserve a world without people like that.” Izuku whispered. “I’ll make it for you.”
He vanished into the night, silent as the justice he dealt.
***
The door clicked open quietly as Izuku stepped into the warm glow of his apartment. The air laced with the subtle scent of herbs and tea—Todoroki must have made some while waiting.
His villain costume had already been discarded back at the bar, now tucked away in a concealed compartment Kurogiri had prepared for him. In its place, Izuku wore a soft, dark hoodie and sweatpants, hair still damp from the evening mist, and a faint smear of blood wiped carefully from his cheek.
“Welcome home.” Todoroki spoke, looking up from the couch where he sat petting Chessur, who was purring audibly in his lap. The grumpy feline had developed a strange affection for Todoroki, curling up beside him whenever he visited and tolerating the soft strokes across her head with uncharacteristic patience.
Izuku chuckled softly, slipping off his shoes. “She liked you more than me. Traitor.”
“You don’t sit still long enough for her to get comfortable me.” Todoroki spoke, scratching just behind Chessur’s ear, the cat arched into the touch like putty in his hands.
Izuku leaned over the back of the couch, kissed Todoroki lightly on the temple, and whispered. “I’m going to hop in the bath. Be right out.”
Todoroki nodded, eyes flickering briefly to the soft bruises along Izuku’s arms that hadn’t fully faded yet.
He said nothing.
Izuku vanished into the bathroom.
The water started running. Stream slowly curled out from the slightly ajar door.
Todoroki sighed and leaned back, letting Chessur climb up onto his chest and settle in.
Then his phone buzzed.
Fuyumi.
With a sigh, he answered. “Fuyumi….”
“Shouto! Thank god—you’re okay?” Her voice rushed, worried. “You weren’t answering your phone after dad……I didn’t know if you were okay.”
Why do you care now?
“……I’m fine.” Todoroki spoke flatly. “I stayed with a…..friend.”
There was a brief pause.
“A friend? Who?”
Todoroki refused to elaborate, letting the line go silent.
However, before Fuyumi could dig further, another voice cut in.
“Who are you talking to? Give me that.”
Todoroki sat up straighter.
“Shouto!” Endeavor’s voice boomed over the phone. “Why the hell aren’t you answering your messages? Where the hell are you? This rebellion of yours ends now. Come home immediately—“
The bathroom door opened. Izuku stepped out, towel around his shoulders, hair damp and curling. He blinked, and his eyes narrowed l when he heard the voice coming from Todoroki’s phone.
Enji Todoroki’s voice.
Izuku walked over slowly, calmly, though Todoroki could see the storm building behind those green eyes.
“Give me the phone.” Izuku spoke, soft but firm.
“Midoriya—“ Todoroki began, but Izuku held out his hand.
“Please.”
Todoroki handed it over.
Izuku pressed the phone to his ear, smiling cruelly at the edges. “Enji Todoroki, was it?”
There was silence on the line.
Then, “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the one who’s been picking up your son up when you threw him down.” Izuku spoke, voice dripping with frost. “I’m the one who patched up his bruises and held his hand after you scared him. I’m the one who makes him laugh, who holds him when he sleep, who keeps him safe—not for power, not for legacy. Just because I care.”
He took a breath, softening for a moment.
“I’m the one your son chose.”
Silence crackled on the line like a live wire.
Then, Izuku added, his voice lowering, more dangerous. “Shouto Todoroki doesn’t belong to you anymore……he’s mine.”
Click.
He hung up, tossing the phone gently onto the coffee table.
Todoroki stared at him, stunned.
Izuku stood there, towel now hanging loosely around his neck, chest rising and falling with the weight of his restrained anger.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Todoroki spoke after a moment, voice hushed.
“I did.” Izuku spoke. “Be sure I’m not letting him pull you back into that hell. You deserve peace, Shouto.”
Todoroki rose slowly, walking to him, and to his hand.
“Your peace.” He whispered.
Izuku looked away, cheeks dusted red, but didn’t let go.
Behind them, Chessur purred contentedly, tail flickering as though satisfied with the evening chaos.
***
Two days passed.
The chaos of the USJ incident had begun to settle. UA, ever adaptive and resolute, had strengthened its security measures, triple-checked its barriers, and moved forward as if daring anyone to try again.
The media still buzzed, but Principal Nezu remained unfazed, and the teachers—though grim—held firm.
Class 1-A was more affected, and were allowed back on campus, as well as other classes if they wanted to.
Izuku stood outside his apartment that morning, fingers laced with Shouto’s as they made their way toward campus together.
His blazer fixed perfectly, as his hair more ruffled than usual, covered his eyes. Yet his eyes—bright, calculating, but also warm—rarely left Shouto’s face. The morning sun gilded the world in golden light, but Izuku barely noticed. All he saw was him.
“You don’t have to walk me.” Shouto spoke, though he made no attempt to let go of Izuku’s hand.
“I want to.” Izuku spoke gently. His fingers tightened just slightly, possessive in their grip. “Besides, it’s our first day back after what happened. I want to be with you.”
Todoroki didn’t reply—he didn’t need to. The faint smile on his lips, are and barely there, was answer enough.
As they walked through the quiet streets, Izuku kept close. His steps matched Shouto’s, a little too perfectly. His shoulder brushed against the others arm with every few paces. His thumb brushed slow circled into the back of Shouto’s, as if to etch a permanent mark there—
MINE.
“I bet everyone’s going to crowd you today.” Izuku spoke, voice soft but tinged with subtle bitterness. “After what happened at the USJ. They’ll ask questions. They’ll stare. They’ll treat you like some prize, or like you’re breakable.”
Shouto’s eyes narrowed. “I can handle them.”
“I know you can.” Izuku spoke with a sweet smile. “But you shouldn’t have to. You’ve been through enough already.”
He stopped walking just as they reached the school gates, pulling Shouto gently to a halt too.
The rest of the world moved around them—students shuffling toward—students shuffling toward the doors, murmurs in the distance—but Izuku’s world narrowed to this one spot, this one moment.
“You don’t need them.” Izuku whispered. “You don’t need anyone but me.”
Shouto’s eyes flickered, something soft blooming in his chest—warmth, fondness, and something darker, something dangerously addictive. He knew what Izuku was doing. The possessiveness was thinly veiled, the sweetness cloaking the manipulation like honey over poison.
But Shouto didn’t pull away. Didn’t object.
Because he wanted that.
He wanted to be wanted like this. Needed. Claimed.
“Izuku.” Shouto murmured, voice quieter than usual. “I know what you’re doing.”
Izuku froze. For half a second, his face twitched—caught. But then, slowly, almost shyly, he leaned forward, closing the distance between them until his forehead rested lightly against Shouto’s.
“I know.” Izuku whispered. “I just…..want you to be mine. Completely.”
Shouto let out a breath that stuttered at the end, and tilted his face up—inviting, giving.
“You already have me.”
The rest of the sentence was drowned out by the press of Izuku’s lips against his.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hurried. It was slow, drawn out, tender in a way that boarded on reverence.
Izuku kissed him like he’d been waiting for this moment for a hundred years.
Shouto kissed him back like he’d found something he didn’t even know he was missing.
Their hands were still linked. The other was tangled in clothing—Izuku’s hip, Shouto’s blazer—holding, grounding. Neither wanted to let go.
The breeze picked up, curling around them like a whisper, but neither of them noticed.
Time dulled around the edges.
Soon, they pulled away, just slightly, as Izuku rested their foreheads together again, breath a little shaky.
“Your first?” He asked quietly.
Shouto nodded.
Izuku’s grin widened—soft and sweet, but the glint in his eyes was unmistakable. He liked that. Liked knowing he was the first. That he was already making himself irreplaceable.
Shouto noticed it, and it should’ve made him cautious. Should’ve made him step back.
Instead, he smiled back, just faintly.
“Don’t let it be the last.”
Izuku leaned in again, lips brushing the corner of Shouto’s mouth before he whispered. “Never.”
Hand in hand, they stepped through the school gates—together.
And just like that, the isolation began. A slow, delicate unraveling. One classmate at a time. One conversation redirected. One shared moment prolonged.
Izuku would become his entire world.
And Shouto?
Shouto would let him.
Chapter 20: A Thought That Won’t Leave
Summary:
Two psychos in love :3
Notes:
A bit of a small charter today
Chapter Text
The classroom was too bright.
Shouto say by the window, where the sun poured in thick golden light and cast sharp shadows across the floor.
Aizawa’s voice droned faintly in the background, giving instructions about hero tactics and partner drills, but Shouto wasn’t listening.
He wasn’t even pretending to.
His fingers absently turned his pen, the movement slow, hypnotic, as his eyes fixed in the window. Not as the view. Not at anything outside. Just…..at the reflection.
Of himself.
Of a boy who had kissed someone for the first time two hours ago and hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.
Izuku……
His lips still tingled.
His chest still felt full—tight and stretched with something he couldn’t quite name. His head, usually so clear and sharp, felt soft-edged and blurry. He hadn’t even realized when the lesson had changed. It didn’t matter.
He could still feel the way Izuku had held him at the gates. Still hear his voice echoing in his ears. Still remember the way Izuku’s hands had trembled just slightly when they kissed—possessive, reverent.
You don’t need anyone but me.
Shouto’s heart gave an odd little lurch.
It should have been alarming. Should have sounded like a red flag. A warning.
But it wasn’t.
It had sounded like a promise.
A vow.
A secret no one else was meant to understand.
“…Hey.”
Shouto blinked. Slowly.
His gaze shifted sideways, just slightly, catching the sight of Kaminari poking his arm.
“Uh, Todoroki? You okay?” Kaminari asked in a low voice. “You’ve been kinda….spacing out for a bit, like two hours.”
Beside him, Jirou tilted her head, her ear jack twitching toward him.
“You’re usually laser-focused.” She spoke. “You’re not even taking notes.”
“I’m fine.” Shouto spoke, voice clipped.
“But you haven’t looked at the board in—
“I said I’m fine .”
They went quiet. Uncomfortable.
Shouto didn’t care. Their concern bounced off him like water off glass. He hasn’t asked for it. He didn’t want it.
None of them understood. None of them ever had.
Izuku understood.
His fingers clenched around the pen, heart beating louder again just thinking about him. The way he whispered, the way he clung, the way he smiled like Shouto was his entire universe.
It was….
Nice.
Obsession, maybe. But soft.
And it wasn’t one-sided.
Shouto could admit that now—at least to himself.
He wanted Izuku too. Wanted all the strange, intense things that came with him. Wanted the fever-bright eyes and the unrelenting attention. Wanted that devotion. That need.
Mine. Izuku has whispered with a kiss.
Shouto had whispered back: You already have me.
“Seriously, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Bakugou’s voice cut through the classroom like a crack of thunder.
Shouto turned, slow and flat-eyed, meeting the scowl directed at him from across the room.
Bakugou was glaring at him with all the fury of someone who’d been gritting his teeth too long.
“You’re letting that damn need cling to you like a parasite.” Bakugou growled. “It’s disgusting.”
A pause.
“You don’t even like people. What, now you’re letting him fawn all over you like you’re some trophy?” Bakugou spoke with rage, not truly believing that Izuku would go this far to keep Todoroki caged like a dog.
Shouto didn’t respond. Not at first. His eyes flickered back toward the window.
He kissed me first.
And I kissed him back.
He wasn’t going to justify that.
Especially not to Katsuki Bakugou.
“I’m not interested in your opinion.” Shouto spoke quietly, with a calmness that only seemed to make Bakugou angrier.
“Oi—!”
“I don’t need your input. Or your judgement. Or your voice.”
And just like that, he turned away. Completely.
Bakugou slammed his palm on the desk, sparks flickering along his palm.
Aizawa didn’t even flinch—just a warning sigh from behind his scarf.
“Todoroki.” Came a softer voice from across the room.
Yaoyorozu. She looked worried. The kind of concern that made Todoroki tense. It was too soft, too kind. Too much.
“You’ve been….different lately.” She spoke. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
Shouto didn’t look at her.
Izuku was right. They were watching him now. Poking, prodding. Treating him like glass. Or a project.
He didn’t want their sympathy.
He didn’t want to be handled like something fragile.
“I’m fine.” He spoke, again.
“But—“
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Another wave of silence.
They’d get the message eventually. They’ll have to.
It was easier this way.
Less noise. Less interference.
Only Izuku mattered now.
Only Izuku, whose kiss still lingered like heat beneath his skin. Whose voice whispered in the quiet corners of his mind. Whose hands held him like he was something sacred.
Shouto didn’t care if they noticed.
Didn’t care if they whispered or worried or warned him.
He had already chosen.
And he wasn’t letting go.
The classroom air was still. Dust danced lazily in the sunlight streaming through the windows, catching the light in warm hold halos. Papers rustled. Pens scratched. Voices murmured faintly around him. But Izuku was only half-aware of any of it.
His elbow rested on the desk, chin balanced on his palm, eyes unfocused as they stared at the soft blue ink bleeding from his pen.
His notebook sat open, untouched, the page empty except for a single absentminded doodle of a fire symbol nestled beside a jagged block of ice.
Shouto….
Just thinking the name sent a warm shiver down his spine.
His Shouto.
Izuku’s lips curved faintly—subtle, dreamy. The memory of their kiss was still fresh. It replayed in his mind like a favorite scene from an old film, slow and vivid.
The way Shouto had looked at him: half-certain, half-yearning. The heat of his breath. The warmth of his mouth. The moment their lips met, the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.
It hadn’t been a quick peck. No—it had been possessive. A declaration. A claim.
Izuku pressed his fingers to his lips, just briefly, heart fluttering.
Shouto had let him in.
And now he wasn’t going to let anyone have him.
Izuku leaned back slightly in his seat, eyes glazed with thought. He imagined what it would be like if Shouto spent every night at his apartment. If he didn’t return to Endeavor’s home at all. If he stopped replying to texts, if he started brushing off his classmates.
It wasn’t enough to have Shouto’s time. He wanted everything.
Every glance. Every breath. Every quiet smile. He wanted to be the first thing Shouto thought about in the morning and the last thing before he slept. He wanted to wrap Shouto in soft routines and warm touches until he didn’t want anything else.
Until even the thought of returning to his family—or his so called friends—felt distant. Pointless.
He wanted to isolate him. Slowly. Sweetly.
Shouto deserved someone who adored him completely.
And no one adored him like Izuku did.
“….Midoriya.”
A voice snapped him out of it—low and dry.
Izuku blinked and turned.
Hitoshi Shinso sat beside him, an unimpressed look on his face as he nudged a notebook toward his friend.
“You haven’t written a single word.” Shinso spoke, voice flat but not unkind, seemingly used to Izuku’s…..unique mind. “We’ve been covering villain psychology for twenty minutes.”
“Oh.” Izuku murmured, blinking again. “Right. Sorry Shinso.”
Shinso sighed, turning back to his own notes.
Izuku’s fingers grazed the notebook. The handwriting was neat. Lined carefully.
Shinso always took good notes. Always observed people better than they realized.
But even he didn’t quite understand Izuku.
Didn’t understand why Izuku’s gaze drifted so often. Why he stared blankly through the classroom as if seeing someone far away. Why he smiled at nothing.
Shinso didn’t know anything about Izuku, but was still a good friend.
Still, he’d noticed enough to lend a hand. In his own quiet way.
Izuku appreciated it.
But he didn’t need Shinso’s attention.
He only needed Shouto’s.
He glanced around the room as he copied the notes.
Most of the students in 1-C didn’t talk to him. Not unless they had to.
They watched him sometimes-sideways glances and awkward silences. A few of them whispered. He could hear it in the front of the class, when they thought he wasn’t listening.
“He’s weird.”
“Did you see the way he talks to himself sometimes?”
“He never smiles unless he with that guy from 1-A, it’s creepy.”
Izuku didn’t mind. He didn’t need them.
They didn’t understand what he was building.
He leaned into the page, lips curling slightly again.
He was patient. He could wait.
A few more quiet conversations. A few more vulnerable nights. A few more moments where Shouto chose him over them.
Then it would be just the two of them.
He could see it now—Shouto curled up on the couch with Chessur in his lap, books forgotten on the floor. His uniform jacket draped over a chair. His toothbrush on Izuku’s sink. His voice quiet, asking if they could just stay in again.
Maybe Izuku would cook for him more. Maybe Shouto would bring home some tea he liked.
Maybe, eventually, they wouldn’t say “your apartment” or “mine.”
Just ours.
Izuku’s chest tightened sweetly. He buried the thought in his notes before it could get away from him.
This feeling—it made everything else seem dull. Muted. Pointless.
The lessons. The room. The students who couldn’t even look at him in the eye.
None of them mattered.
Only Shouto.
Shouto who was his.
And he would never let go.
Chapter 21: Only You
Summary:
The tension has boiled over, let the games begin
Notes:
Guess what happens :3
Chapter Text
The halls felt louder than usual. The voiced of his classmates echoed off the pristine walls—laughing, calling out, bickering—but Shouto heard none of it. His gaze stayed fixed forward, walking in calm, quiet strides that masked the storm brewing just under his skin.
He hadn’t responded when Sero tried to walk with him. Hadn’t even look up when Yaoyorozu called his name during hero studies. He hadn’t spoken more than two words to Iida since Monday.
He didn’t care if they noticed.
He didn’t care if the whispered.
Because the only person who saw him—really saw him—was waiting for him.
Izuku.
The boy who stole his heart, that had him feeling emotions he didn’t know existed in his cold body.
The one who kissed him like he was more than Endeavor’s son.
Like he was wanted.
The cafeteria buzzed with activity as Shouto stepped in. Trays clattered, food steamed on counters, and students swarmed the tables in a shuffle of motion. He barely spared them a glance,
His eyes immediately sought out that familiar green haired boy.
Izuku was already seated at a small table near the back. Isolated from everyone else in the whole cafe.
Shouto knew Izuku’s plan, but didn’t mind it, as always. As his obsession for the boy grew to new heights he’s never known before.
Shouto’s lips twitched upward. Barely.
He didn’t want for anyone else. Didn’t scan the room for his classmates. Didn’t care if he passed Iida, who flinched as he brushed by.
He walked straight to the table and sat across from him.
Izuku looked up, a slow smile creeping onto his face like the rising tide.
“You came.” He spoke, his voice low, rasped with joy.
“Of course I did.” Shouto murmured.
No one else had ever made him feel like this.
No one had ever made him want like this.
He could feel it tightening inside him, slowly winding around his chest. the need to be closer. To be chosen. To be wanted back, and he was— he could see it in the way Izuku leaned forward, elbows on the table, gazed fixed on him like he was the only thing that mattered in the entire damn room.
It made Shouto feel…..invincible.
“Did you eat yet?” Izuku asked, tilting his head.
Shouto shook his head. “Didn’t feel like waiting in line.”
Izuku blinked at that. “I would’ve brought you something.”
Shouto’s chest warmed, a foreign emotion sweeping beneath his ribs. No one ever offered him things like that. Not without wanting something in return. But Izuku wasn’t like them. He didn’t expect Shouto to act a certain way, to follow rules, to meet standards he never agreed to.
He just wanted him.
That alone made Shouto want to give him everything.
“You’re the only one I want to eat with.” Shouto spoke plainly.
Izuku looked surprised, almost flustered.
Then his lips parted slowly in a crooked smile. His eyes gleamed.
“Good.”
They sat like that for a few moments—quiet, comfortable in the hum of the room, untouched by the noise of the world.
Until it ended.
“Todoroki?”
A hand touched his shoulder. He turned, reluctantly.
Yaoyorozu stood there with a worried frown, Iida behind her.
Uraraka hovered nearby, and Kaminari was a stoop behind them, his usual smile gone.
“We’ve barely seen you this week.” Yaoyorozu spoke softly. “You haven’t joined us for lunch at all.”
“You didn’t even respond when I offered to study together last night.” Iida added, fidgeting with his glasses. “Are you…..alright?”
Shouto looked at them—really looked—and felt nothing.
Just…..irritation.
They didn’t understand.
They didn’t see how Izuku looked at him. How he felt when Izuku touched his wrist or leaned in to whisper something only for him.
“I’m fine.” He spoke, turning back to his table.
Uraraka stepped closer. “Todoroki, we’re not trying to pry. We just—Midoriya doesn’t exactly have a….normal reputation. You used to be more careful…….cautious even. Now you’re just around Midoriya like some love sick puppy—“
“Don’t.” Shouto cut in, his tone sharpening.
He felt Izuku stiffen slightly across from him.
He didn’t like that.
He didn’t like the way they looked at him. Like he was some victim. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. Like Izuku had done something wrong by wanting him.
“I said I’m fine .” Shouto spoke again, more firmly. “I don’t need any of you to monitor who I spend time with.”
Yaoyorozu’s eyes softened. “We just don’t want you to isolate yourself.”
Shouto grew annoyed. He doesn’t like where this was going.
“Maybe I want to.”
There was a pause. A flicker of unease passed between them.
Izuku said nothing—but his hand slowly drifted toward Shouto’s under the table.
Shouto didn’t hesitate. He laced their fingers together, firm and certain.
“Go back to your table.” Shouto told them without looking.
None of them moved.
Kaminari finally broke the tension with a weak. “Okay…just….come back to us when you’re ready, yeah? The class is worried about you.”
They left slowly, casting one last look over their shoulders.
Shouto didn’t watch them go. Didn’t care.
He looked at Izuku instead.
The boy’s thumb brushed across his knuckles. “Sorry.” Izuku spoke, soft and a little dark, telling his true feelings. “I don’t like them hovering over you.”
“Neither do I.”
Shouto tightened his grip. “I like being alone with you.”
Izuku smiled. “You really mean that?”
Shouto nodded once. “You made more sense than any of them.”
And it was true.
They didn’t see him. Not like Izuku did.
No one else ever had.
***
The shrill of the bell echoed across the lunchroom, signaling the end of the period. Students began to rise from their seats, collecting trays and shouldering their bags, conversations continuing in small hums and laughter. But Shouto barely noticed. His mismatched eyes, usually so distant and unreadable, were not only focused on Izuku. His gaze didn’t waver, didn’t blink, and didn’t soften.
Izuku stood, slinging his bag over one shoulder, but before he could turn toward the doors, Shouto grabbed his wrist with surprising urgency.
Without a word, he tugged him down one of the side halls. It was quieter here, away from the chaos of the student crowd. His grip was firm but not painful, his palm slightly warmer than usual.
Izuku didn’t question it. He knew that look in Shouto’s eyes—intense, unreadable, desperate.
They ended up slipping into an unused storage room, the heavy door shuttering behind them with a soft click. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with equipment and cleaning supplies, but the small space suddenly felt charged with emotion.
Shouto turned toward face him, breathing unevenly.
“I can’t take it anymore.” Shouto spoke, voice low and strained. “My emotions are scrambling, like I want you—it’s getting worse. I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t want to share with anyone, Izuku. It’s like I’m going insane.” His voice cracked slightly. “Please…..I need to release this pent up emotion. Please….can I kiss you, again?”
Izuku’s breath caught. His cheeks flushed a deep red, heat crawling up his neck.
There was a dangerous edge to Shouto’s words, a kind of wild sincerity that he hadn’t expected to hear aloud—but he liked it. No, loved it. He didn’t want to be shared either.
Shouto’s obsession was a mirror of his own twisted devotion. It was possessive and selfish and it was perfect.
He nodded, barely able to form words. “Yes….please.”
The moment their lips met, the tension in the air snapped like a wire. It was not a hesitant kiss this time—it was consuming.
Shouto kissed him with all the fervor of someone who had held back far too long, fingers slipping into Izuku’s curls and gripping tightly.
Izuku melted into it, arms wrapped around Shouto’s shoulders, anchoring himself as their bodies pressed together. The storage room was small, and it only forced them closer, breaths mingling as they kissed again and again, desperate and greedy.
Neither of them checked the time. Neither of them cared.
They ended up missing class.
Soon, the final bell rang for dismissal, the two slipped quietly out of the storage room, fingers laced together.
Shouto looked flushed but more content than he had in weeks.
Izuku was still blushing, a dazed look on his face as if he were walking through a dream.
“Let’s not go home yet.” Shouto whispered. “Let’s just…..go somewhere. Just us.”
Izuku giggled. “Anywhere you want.”
The duo left school grounds without a backward glance, ignoring the rules, ignoring the schedule, ignoring the world.
Eventually, they found themselves in a quiet park far from the main streets. The sun was starting to dip low, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and violet.
They sat on a secluded bench under a tree, shoulders touching.
Shouto looked down at their intertwined hands, then up at Izuku. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s overwhelming, but….i like it. I like you. More than anything. I want to be yours, Izuku. Not just now, but always. No one else matters.”
Izuku turned to him, eyes soft but glowing green with intensity. “I know. I feel the same. I’ve wanted you for so long, Shouto. I want you all to myself. I don’t care about anyone else either. Just you.”
The air between them was warm, heavy with the weight of shared truth. There was no hesitance now, no tiptoeing around feelings. Their obsession was out in the open—raw, selfish, and sweet.
They leaned into each other again, lips meeting in another slow, deep kiss as the sun dipped lower behind the trees. Nothing else existed but them. Just Shouto and Izuku—two sparks igniting a fire that only burned brighter with each touch, each whispered word, each promise.
And neither of them wants it to ever go out.
***
Night settled like velvet over Musutafu, the city lights shimmering through the windows of Izuku’s small apartment. The room was dim, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of a street lamp outside, filtering through half-drawn blinds.
Curled together beneath the blankets of Izuku’s narrow bed were two boys wrapped in each other’s warmth and silence.
Shouto lay nestled against Izuku’s chest, his head rising and falling with the calm rhythm of the other’s breathing.
Izuku’s hand rested in Shouto’s hair, gently tangled in the two-toned strands, the contrast between red and white softer now in the dark. For once, there was peace—stolen, fragile, but real. The world was loud and chaotic, cruel and uncaring, but in this bed, everything was still.
Izuku felt it like a pulse through his chest: he had Shouto. And for now, that was everything.
The quiet was broken by the faint buzz of his phone on the nightstand. At first, Izuku ignored it, not wanting to leave the moment, but when it vibrated again insistently, he leaned over carefully not to disturb Shouto too much.
Squinting at the screen, he saw the sender: Tomu. He tapped it open.
“Get to the bar. Now. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Izuku let out a quiet sigh, shoulders slumping. Of course. Tomura never cared about time or sleep schedules or the fact Izuku had just had his first real moment of happiness in months. Still, Izuku knew better than to ignore a summons—especially one worded like that.
He turned slowly, nudging Shouto gently. “Shouto.” He whispered, brushing his fingers along his jaw. “I need to step out for a bit, just for a few minutes. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
Shouto shifted, groggy, brows furrowing as he clung a little tighter to Izuku. “Mmm….don’t go….” He murmured, voice thick with sleep, barely audible.
“I have to.” Izuku spoke softly, kissing the crown of his head. “But I’ll be back before you know it. Just rest, okay?”
Shouto let out a small, reluctant whine, one hand sliding down to hold Izuku’s wrist, as if trying to keep him anchored.
After a pause, he finally relented with a hushed. “Okay. Don’t take too long.”
***
The air outside was cool, and his steps echoed faintly through the streets as he made his way toward the familiar alleyway that led to the bar. His mind raced—Tomura rarely called him out like this unless it was serious. And if it was serious, it usually meant something bloody.
When he finally stepped into the dim-lit bar through the hidden entrance, his guard immediately rose.
The atmosphere was different. Not tense exactly, but charged, expectant. The lights were lower than usual, and the air smelled of dust, alcohol, and iron.
Tomura sat on a stool, arms folded, and next to him stood a man Izuku instantly recognized: a tall figure with a red scarf, wild eyed, and an air of danger that clung to him like second skin.
Hero Killer: Stain.
Izuku’s body tensed, instincts screaming at him to stay alert, every ounce of his training telling him this man was deadly. He took a slow step forward but didn’t speak, eyes flickering between Tomura and Stain. “What’s going on?” He finally asked, voice quiet, wary.
Tomura gave him a lopsided grin, fingers twitching near his neck like he wanted to scratch. “Relax, Usagi. I didn’t call you here to die. Thought it was time you got some……serious experience.”
Izuku narrowed his eyes. “Experience?…..I thought kurogane was my teacher?”
Stain’s gaze was razor-sharp, unreadable. He stepped forward slowly, boots heavy on the creaking wood floor. “Your leader says you’ve got potential.” He spoke bluntly. “That you need someone to sharpen your edge. He thinks I should take you under my wing. Teach you the way of convection.”
Izuku blinked, mouth opening slightly in surprise. Him? Working under Stain ? He glanced at Tomura, but the villain only shrugged as if to say, Why not?
Stain stepper closer, and Izuku didn’t back down, though every instinct told him to. “I don’t train cowards. Or people who don’t know what they believe in. So tell me, Usagi.” The Hero Killer’s voice was low, intense. “What’s your purpose? What drives you to kill? To fight? What makes you different from the filth you’re working with?”
For a long moment, Izuku didn’t answer. Then, slowly, he exhaled and looked directly into Stain’s eyes.
“I’m trying to save someone.”
The words were quiet, but they rang with convection. “I don’t care about society’s ideals or their broken system. I’m not trying to fix anything. I just want to protect one person. I’ll burn everything else down if I have to. I’ll kill, I’ll lie, I’ll disappear into the shadows—as long as he’s safe.”
There was a silence after that, a weight in the room that pressed against their chests.
Stain studied him for a long, unreadable moment. Then he gave the faintest nod. “At least the boy’s honest.”
Tomura, meanwhile, chuckled darkly behind them. “See? Told you he was interesting.” He leaned on the counter, eyes gleaming. “He’s just a boy, but his devotion is downright heroic, isn’t it?” He tilted his head mockingly toward Izuku. “He plans to save someone who is slowly becoming rejected by society, we’re trying to turn him, and it’s slowly coming together.”
Izuku blushed a bit, understanding it was meant to be said, but god was he embarrassed.
Chapter Text
The apartment was warm, the air tinged faintly with the scent of buttered popcorn and the faint purr of Chessur sprawled lazily at the foot of the couch. The TV flickered with the glow of some late-night drama neither of them were really paying attention to, though the noise filled the quiet comfortably.
Izuku sat cross-legged at one end of the couch, one had absentmindedly combing through Shouto’s hair as the half-and-half boy lay stretched out with his head in Izuku’s lap.
Shouto’s eyes were half-lidded, content, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor smoothed away in these private moments where no one else could reach them.
Izuku’s fingers slowed for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. “Hey, Shouto.” He murmured, voice low so it didn’t break the soft rhythm of the moment.
Shouto hummed in acknowledgment without opening his eyes, his hand reaching lazily down to scratch under Chessur’s chin. “The Sports Festival’s coming up soon. You know it’s going to be brutal this year….especially for people like us. Do you want to train together for it?”
At the mention, Shouto’s mismatched gaze lifted to meet his, steady, unflinching. “Of course.” He spoke simply, like the decision had already been made long before Izuku asked.
His hand moved in slow strokes along Chessur’s fur, the cat purring louder at the affection. “If I’m going to be stronger, it’s going to be for you. And if we’re training…we do it properly.”
Izuku raised a brow, curious. “Probably?”
Shouto’s mouth curved ever so slightly—not the faintly polite smile he wore at school, but the real one that reserved only for Izuku. “I’ll use my father’s black card to rent out a private park. Just for the two of us. No one else.”
Izuku blinked, the words processing before a slow, surprised grin broke across his face. “Endeavor’s black card? The same one he guards like it’s his firstborn?”
Shouto’s smile deepened, and there was the faintest glimmer of mischief in his expression. “Yes. He won’t even notice until it’s too late. And by then, it won’t matter.”
Izuku chuckled, the sound bubbling up into a genuine laugh. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to Shouto’s lips, his free hand brushing lightly against his cheek. “That’s bold, Shouto. I’d pay to see the look on that man’s face when he finds out.”
Shouto’s eyes softened at the words, and for a moment he just studied Izuku, commenting every detail to memory—the green of his eyes, the warmth of his laugh, the way his voice dropped when he was amused. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks.” Shouto spoke finally, voice quiet but certain. “You’re my boyfriend. My safe place. That’s all I care about.”
Izuku felt the weight of those words settle in his chest like an anchor—grounding, solid. He kissed him again, slower this time, with the quiet promise that he felt exactly the same.
Chessur shifted at their feet, purring contentedly, as if even the cat understood that this moment belonged to no one but them.
***
Morning light crept lazily through the curtains, painting faint gold across the apartment walls. The air was still, save for the quiet, steady rhythm of Izuku’s breathing where he lay tangled in the blankets.
Shouto had been awake for some time, but he hadn’t moved—not yet. He lay on his side, watching every small rise and fall of Izuku’s chest, drinking in the way his hair fell in messy curls across his forehead, the way his lips parted slightly in his sleep.
His gaze was soft, but underneath it burned something for more intense—an ache, an obsession that only seemed to deepen with each day they spent together.
Carefully, Shouto reached out, brushing his fingers lightly across Izuku’s cheek, tracing the curve of his jaw. The warmth of his skin lingered on Shouto’s fingertips, a quiet, grounding reminder that this was real.
He let his hand rest there for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over Izuku’s cheekbone, before pulling back and slipping quietly out of bed.
The kitchen was dim but welcoming as Shouto began to move about, setting out ingredients with a quiet efficiency.
He cracked eggs into a bowl, set toast to brown, and sliced vegetables for a side—all the while, his mind kept circling back to Izuku. To their training later today. The thought of Izuku pushing him, teaching him, watching him with that sharp, calculating gaze made his chest tighten in anticipation.
He wanted to be stronger, not just for himself…..but for him. Only for him.
It was the scent of sizzling eggs and warm toast that finally stirred Izuku awake. Blinking against the sunlight, he pushed himself up and stretched, hair sticking up wildly.
His nose twitched at the smell, and a lazy smile tugged at his lips as he slid out of bed. Barefoot, he padded softly toward the kitchen, following the aroma until he stepped into the doorway.
There was Shouto, his back to him, sleeves rolled up, hair catching the morning light in a way that made it almost glow.
Izuku didn’t announce himself—instead, he stepped forward and slipped his arms around Shouto’s waist from behind, pulling him close. He buried his face briefly against Shouto’s shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of soap and the lingering trace of last night’s warmth.
Shouto froze for just a moment, the heat rushing to his face almost instantly. He could feel his heart thudding hard in his chest, so loud he swore Izuku might hear it. His hands stilled on the spatula, his breath caught in his throat. “….We’ll leave for the park at two.” He managed after a moment, his voice softer than he’d intended, tinged with that quiet vulnerability only Izuku ever saw.
Izuku hummed in approval, his lips curling into a small smile against Shouto’s shoulder before murmuring. “Perfect.” His arms tightened just slightly around him, and Shouto’s blush deepened, though he didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned back into the hold, as if even in this quiet domestic moment, he couldn’t get close enough.
***
By the time the clock struck three, the private park Shouto had rented out for the day was utterly silent. Not a single passerby, no curious onlookers—just the gentle rustle of leaves and occasional chirp of distant birds. The open grassy field stretched wide under a pale afternoon sky, surrounded by a ring of trees that created a natural wall. The space felt almost like another world, isolated and untouched, perfect for what they had planned.
Izuku stepped forward first, loosening his shoulders as his eyes swept over their temporary training ground. His usual warm expression was replaced with something sharper, focused. “Alright.” He spoke, his tone calm but carrying a weight that made Shouto’s chest tighten. “If you want to get stronger for the festival, you can’t hold back. I won’t.”
Shouto stood a few paces away, rolling his wrists slowly as if to prepare himself. His dual-colored eyes studied Izuku—not with fear, but with a mix of hesitation and anticipation. He wasn’t used to training like this, at least not with someone who looked at him like that— someone who wanted to every ounce of his attention, every inch of his focus. “I’m ready.” Shouto answered simply, though there was a faint flicker of excitement in his voice.
Izuku’s lips twitched upward in the faintest smirk before he moved. There was no warning; he closed the distance in a heartbeat, sweeping in with a sharp forward jab that Shouto barely blocked in time. The impact rang through his forearm, and before he could fully recover, Izuku twisted, aiming a low kick toward his side.
Shouto stepped back, adjusting his stance, eyes narrowing.
“You’re thinking too much.” Izuku spoke quickly, darting forward again. His movements were precise—not overly flashy, but efficient, every strike meant to test Shouto’s guard.
He switched from punches to sudden grabs, forcing Shouto to react on instinct. Their shoes slid against the grass, each step accompanied by the sound of breath and full of contact.
Shouto responded cautiously at first, blocking more than striking. He could feel Izuku’s strength in each blow, his determination pressing in like a constant weight. Still, something about the intensity pulled him in.
His hesitation began to fade, replaced by the steady thrill of pushing himself against someone who clearly wanted to see his limits.
His first counterattack came in form of a quick feint—a step to the left, then a sudden low sweep of his leg.
Izuku jumped it easily, landing lightly before stepping into Shouto’s space once again.
“You’ve got good reactions.” Izuku murmured between movements. “But you need to commit. If you’re going to hit me, hit me.” His next strike came fast—a palm strike toward Shouto’s chest—and this time, Shouto caught his wrist, twisting to try and use Izuku’s momentum against him.
For the next several minutes, the exchange became a rhythm. Strike, block, counter.
Izuku’s style was controlled aggression, constantly pressing forward, while Shouto’s began to shift into something more assertive, his attacks growing sharper, his movements smoother. The occasional burst of frost clung to the grass where his quirk slipped through, but he kept his power mostly contained—this was about hand-to-hand, not freezing the whole park.
Sweat began to bead along Shouto’s brow, his breathing coming faster. Izuku, still steady, took a step back and wiped his own forehead with the back of his hand. “Better.” He spoke simply, and then—without warning—he lunged again, tacking Shouto into the soft grass.
They rolled once before Izuku pinned him with a knee beside his hip, his hand pressing lightly against Shouto’s collarbone.
“You’re holding back.” Izuku spoke quietly, leaning closer, his green eyes searching Shouto’s face.
Shouto’s lips curled into a faint, breathless smile. “Maybe I must like losing to you.” His voice was low, almost teasing, and it pulled a quiet laugh from Izuku before he pushed himself up, offering Shouto a hand.
The training continued for another hour—drills, close combat, reaction exercises—until both of them were flushed and breathing hard, muscles aching in a satisfying way.
They stood side by side at the edge of the field, catching their breath as the sun dipped lower in the sky, the air cooling.
Shouto glanced over at Izuku, his eyes still lit with excitement from their spar. “I think…..I want to do this again.”
Izuku smirked, tilting his head. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you off easy.”
And as they began the walk back towards the parks exit, the quiet satisfaction between them was heavy, a shared thrill that made the training like something far more intimate than just preparation for a festival.
***
The second week of training began with a different kind of energy. The private park was just as secluded as before, morning light spilling through the trees and brushing golden hues across the grass, but the time there was something sharper in the air between them, something playful and heavy at the same time.
Izuku stood across from Shouto with his hands in his pockets, his grin carrying a challenge that sent a shiver down Shouto’s spine.
He shifted his weight, Chessur sprawled lazily nearby as if she knew the two of them were about to tear up space again.
“Alright, Shouto.” Izuku spoke, his voice low but brimming with confidence. “This week, I’m going to make things interesting for you. If you can beat me, you get a kiss.”
The words sank into the still air, and for a moment, Shouto froze. His eyes widened slightly, his heartbeat kicking against his ribs so hard it almost drowned out everything else.
A kiss. Just the mention of it made the heat flare up under his skin, but he fought to keep his expression neutral, forcing the blush threatening to creep up his cheeks to stay hidden beneath his usual calm.
He looked away, pretending to stretch his arms, but Izuku noticed the faint red tint and chuckled.
“Hiding it won’t save you.” Izuku teased, stepping closer and tilting his head with a smirk. “You want this win, I can see it.”
Shouto swallowed, silently scolding himself for being so transparent, but inside, his excitement swelled like a rising tide. The idea of defeating Izuku—even if just in training—and then being rewarded with something so intimate, it ignited both with his determination and his obsession.
He clenched his fists and nodded, his mismatched eyes glinting with focus. “Fine. But when I win? I’m not letting you take it back.”
Izuku’s grin widened. “Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”
They began their sparring, and immediately Izuku pressed forward with all the speed and precision he could muster.
He wasn’t pulling his punches this week, not anymore. Shouto had spent days training with him already, learning to anticipate the way Izuku’s footwork flowed, the rhythm of his attacks, and the way his body shifted just before a strike.
Izuku wanted to push him past hesitation into instinct, and now, with this kiss hanging in the air like bait, Shouto responded with sharper reflexes than before.
Izuku lunged, swinging a fast right hook, but Shouto ducked low and countered with a sweep of his leg, forcing Izuku to leap back. The grin never left Izuku’s face as he adjusted and came in again, fists flying in a quick flurry.
Shouto blocked each strike, his breath growing heavier, his heart racing—not just from the fight but from the thought of what waited if he succeeded.
Izuku’s movements were relentless, but Shouto was faster than last week, his hesitations fading as his body finally started trusting itself to move without overthinking.
Izuku caught him with a feint, pretending to swing for his ribs before pivoting into a kick, the impact making Shouto stumble back several steps. But instead of frustration, there was a spark in Shouto’s eyes, a hint of exhilaration as he steadied himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead, and came charging back in.
He threw his own punch this time, one Izuku narrowly dodged, and the two collided in a clash of fists and forearms that echoed across the empty park.
Hours passed this way—grappling, trading blows, testing limits.
Shouto’s knuckles burned, his muscles ached, but every time Izuku knocked him down, he pushed himself to get back up, because the thought of that one kiss kept him burning with determination. And Izuku, though he didn’t say it out loud, was proud—proud to see Shouto fight like this, proud that he could draw that kind of fire out of him.
Finally, near the end of their session, Shouto managed to do what he hadn’t before.
Izuku darted in for a takedown, but Shouto twisted his body at just the right angle, using Izuku’s momentum against him.
With a sudden burst of strength, he flipped Izuku onto the ground and pinned him there, his chest heaving as sweat dripped down his temple.
For a moment, silence fell, the only sound thudding of their hearts.
Shouto leaned over him, his mismatched eyes locked on Izuku’s startled but amused expression.
“I…..win.” Shouto spoke, his voice hoarse but steady.
Izuku blinked up at him, then let out a soft laugh, breathless and warm. “Guess you do.”
Shouto’s blush finally betrayed him then, spreading across his cheeks as he realized what came next.
His grip on Izuku’s wrists loosened, but he didn’t move away, instead hovering just inches above him, his heart hammering so loud he swore Izuku could hear it.
For the first time since the challenge began, the confidence in Izuku’s grin softened into something gentler, something fond.
“Go on.” Izuku’s whispered, his voice teasing but tender. “Claim your prize.”
Shouto didn’t hesitate this time. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Izuku’s, the kiss shaky at first but quickly growing deeper, fueled by all the weeks of tension, longing, and obsession that had been building between them.
Izuku kissed him back, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him closer, and the world around them—the park, the training, and even Chessur’s curious eyes—faded until there was nothing but the two of them.
When they finally pulled apart, Shouto was breathless, his lips tingling, his eyes dark with emotion.
Izuku smiled up at him, brushing a hand against his cheek. “Not bad, Snowflake. Not bad at all.”
Shouto’s blush deepened, but the corner of his mouth curled into a rare, satisfied smile. “I’m never letting you go.” He whisper fiercely.
And Izuku, hearing the conviction in his tone, only tightened his hold, letting himself sink into the intensity of it all.
Chapter 23: The Festival of Eyes
Summary:
The sports festival has begun
Notes:
Apologies, school started back up so I ended up getting some supplies and missed my due date I had prepared to post.
I’ll make it up to you all
Also my friend has told me that since I’m a author, I should keep “plugging my socials”
I only have Twitter so I’ll just put this here again
https://x.com/doortodusk0?s=21&t=aICXMt-8y4WL3NjawSNZgQ
Chapter Text
The stadium was overflowing with cheers, the air humming with anticipation as the U.A. Sports Festival officially began. Crowds filled the seats in waves of color, their voices blending into a roaring tide of excitement.
Near the front row, siting close enough to see the arena with perfect clarity.
Izuku adjusted his hood slightly against the cover, though his sharp eyes never strayed from the arena floor. He wasn’t here for the festival itself, nor to scout the competition like he once would have back in his old life as an eager student.
No—this time, his gaze sought only one person. SHOUTO. His SHOUTO.
The crowd around him erupted when the participants began to file in, but Izuku’s focus was calm and unwavering, his chest tightening with something between pride and longing as his boyfriend stepped into view.
Shouto carried himself with the same aloof composure as always, but Izuku knew better. He could read the subtle stiffness in his shoulders, the slight lift of his chin—it was the quiet determination of someone fighting for far more than recognition.
Shouto wasn’t here for his Father’s approval, nor for the glory of family name.
He was here because he wanted to prove something to himself, and perhaps, even more than that, he was here because Izuku had asked him to grow alongside him.
As the other students stood in line, pretending to be unaffected by the weight of the stadium’s eyes, Shouto’s mismatched eyes lifted almost unconsciously, scanning the stands. It was subtle at first—just a flicker of movement.
But then his eyes locked on Izuku.
In an instant, the din of the crowd seemed to fade, and his expression softened, the frost in his demeanor melting into something far more vulnerable. His lips curved upward in the faintest, most uncharacteristic smile, and his hand shifted, raising slowly, deliberately.
He waved—not at the crowd, not at the faceless masses cheering for him, but directly at Izuku.
The effect was immediate. A ripple of whispers darted through Class 1-A, the students exchanging puzzled and slightly uncomfortable glances.
Todoroki Shouto never waved at anyone. He barely acknowledged those who sat beside him day after day. For him to openly recognize someone in the audience, especially with such visible warmth, was almost unthinkable.
Even their homeroom teacher, Aizawa, watching from the enclosed room, with President Mic, arched a brow beneath his capture scarf.
Izuku felt his cheeks warm, he didn’t lower his hood. Instead, he allowed himself the smallest smirk, his green eyes glinting in amusement and affection.
He raised his notebook just enough to hide half his face, pretending to jot something down, though he knew Shouto could see the way his shoulders shook with a quiet laugh.
That was enough to make his boyfriend’s ears flush red from the arena floor.
While the crowd cheered obliviously, while the heroes and Sponcers in the stands whispered about talent and potential, Izuku’s world narrowed to a single connection; they way Shouto’s gaze lingered on him, steady and unafraid.
In that instant exchange, they were no longer villain and hero students, no longer two people walking opposite paths.
They were just Izuku and Shouto, tethered by an obsession neither could—or wanted to—escape.
His phone buzzed quietly against his thigh, pulling him momentarily out of that trance.
He slid it open beneath his notebook, the screen lighting up with a message from Tomura.
Tomu: The Hero Killer is moving on his own tonight. You won’t be needed for this one. Rest easy. We’ll have something bigger soon.
Izuku’s brow twitched, his thump brushing across the words. Stain—The Hero Killer—was a dangerous piece Tomura was setting loose, one he wasn’t sure if he fully trusted yet.
But for now, that wasn’t his concern. He slid his phone back into his pocket without replying, his thoughts returning immediately to the arena below.
Shouto had returned to his usual posture, but Izuku knew the truth.
That wave, that blush, the almost imperceptible smile—they were all for him, and only for him. Let the others wonder. Let them whisper. None of them needed to know.
For now, Izuku was content to watch. To observe. To silently etch every movement Shouto made into the pages of his memory.
The festival may have belonged to the world, but his eyes—and his heart—belonged to Shouto alone.
***
The booming voice of President Mic echoed across the stadium, electrifying the already buzzing crowd. The Sports Festival was in full swing, and the first event was about to begin—the Obstacle Race.
Izuku sat in the first row, his notebook open across his lap, his pen tapping lightly against the page, but his attention wasn’t truly on strategy. No—his eyes were locked firmly on one person.
Shouto stood at the startling line, the light glinting off his dual-colored hair, the crowd roaring for him, for the son of Endeavor, but Izuku knew differently. They weren’t cheering for his Shouto. They didn’t know the truth—the boy who, just last night, fell asleep with his head buried against Izuku’s chest, whispering drowsy promises that he’d make him proud.
Shouto shifted his stance, his gaze flickering up for only a moment, and then he found Izuku in the crowd once more.
Izuku could feel it—that flicker of warmth in Shouto’s eyes that had softened all his sharp edges.
And when Shouto raised a hand earlier, just a small, subtle wave, the motion might have seemed significant to anyone else. But for Shouto, it was monumental. He waved at him— ignoring the thousands of other faces screaming his name.
Izuku’s chest burned, heat rushing up to his cheeks as he tried to smother his grin behind the edges of his notebook.
Around Shouto, his classmates shifted uncomfortably—Bakugou’s scowl deepened, Kirishima glanced curiously, even Ochako frowned in confusion. They noticed, of course they noticed, but none of them could understand the gravity of what that single wave meant.
He’s doing this for me. Izuku thought, his pen scribbling across the page even as his heart hammered against his ribs. Everything. Every step. Every move.
The horn blared, sharp and commanding, and suddenly the race was in motion.
Shouto didn’t hesitate—ice surging from beneath his feet in an instant, sprawling across the ground in jagged, crystalline sheets that forced others to stumble, slip, or scrambled to catch their footing.
Izuku’s eyes widened, his pen dragging across the page as he tracked every movement, every calculation. His Shouto was ruthless in execution, precise in control, but there was something new this time.
It wasn’t just cold determination. There was fire in his focus—not literal flames, but the heat of motivation. He wasn’t just running for victory. He was running for Izuku.
Robots thundered down onto the field, towering metal giants meant to block the competitors path.
Most students panicked, scrambling to avoid being crushed.
Shouto moved like he had already anticipated their arrival, sliding past their heavy arms, his ice creeping up their legs to freeze them solid in place.
Izuku leaned forward, his breath caught in his throat, the pages of his notebook forgotten for a moment as he whispered under his breath. “Prefect, Shouto. You’re perfect.”
The crowd erupted, voices layering over one another, but Izuku barely heard them.
His world narrowed to the icy trail carving across the course and the boy at its center.
Shouto was leading, yes, but that wasn’t the part that mattered. What mattered was that he kept glancing back—not at his opponent’s, not to check if anyone was catching up, but toward the stands, toward Izuku, as if needing reassurance that he was still there, watching, believing in him.
And every time their eyes met, Shouto’s movements grew sharper, faster, his ice spreading with confidence.
Then came the second obstacle—the tight ravine strung with ropes and narrowed footholds, swaying precariously above a drop that made several students blanch.
Shouto didn’t flinch. He didn’t even slow down. He froze the ropes with a step of his foot, solidifying his path and striding across with effortless control.
Below him, others flailed, gripping wildly for stability.
Above, Izuku’s chest swelled with pride. He’s so calm….so steady. Just like when he’s with me.
By the time they reached the final leg—the minefield, treacherous and unpredictable—Izuku was practically standing, his knuckles white around the edges of his notebook. The mines sparked with dangerous energy, ready to detonate at the slightest misstep.
Students hesitated, second-guessing every step forward.
Shouto, however, remained composed. He spread a sheet of ice across the ground, dulling the sensation of the mines and creating a clear path for himself.
The crowd gasped at the ingenuity, at the audacity. But Izuku only smiled, his chest tight with affection. That’s my Shouto. Always finding a way.
And when Shouto reached the finish line, not even breaking stride, he finally looked up again—past the reporters, past the hero’s in the stands, past everyone else.
His gaze locked onto Izuku’s, who had already dropped his pen, his hands gripping the notebook so tightly his knuckled ached.
Shouto’s expression softened, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as President Mic screamed his name as the first victor of the obstacle race. The moment should have been his triumph, his glory.
But Izuku knew—it wasn’t the crowd Shouto wanted to see him. It was the him alone.
Izuku’s lips curled into a smile, his heart forever pounding in his ears as he thought it might burst. He wanted to run down there, to grab Shouto and kiss him right there in front of everyone, to stake his claim. But instead, he sat back down slowly, his notebook pressing against his chest as though it could hide the way his heart was pounding.
He wrote only one thing on the page, ignoring the mess of stations observations that filled the rest of the notebook:
You’re mine, Shouto. And I’ll make sure the world knows one day.
***
A few minutes after, a break was announced by Midnight with her usual flamboyant flair, her whip in the air as she waved the students off to rest and recover before the next event. The crowd buzzed with energy, chattering about the performances so far, debating who would rise to the top.
Izuku closed his notebook with care, his pen tucked neatly in the spiral as his sharp green eyes followed the flow of students making their way back to their waiting rooms.
He spotted Class 1-A disappearing into the tunnels. Shouto’s distinct half-red, half-white hair easy to follow until the boy vanished inside with peers.
Izuku leaned back in his seat, tapping his thumb on the cover of his notebook. He should’ve stayed put, content to watch from afar like he always did. But instead, curiosity tugged at him.
President Mic was somewhere backstage, likely killing time until the next announcement.
Izuku thought maybe he could slip by, exchange a few words—maybe get a closer look at how the festival was being run.
With Tomura’s money buying him a front-row seat, no one questioned his presence here.
He rose, hood shadowing his face as he slipped into the quieter hallways beneath the stadium. The roar of the crowd became muffled, replaced by the echo of his own footsteps and the faint hum of generators.
He turned the corner, expecting the familiar bright yellow shades of Yamada Hizashi—and instead, he froze.
Standing there, broad-shouldered and immovable, was ENDEAVOR.
The man’s towering frame blocked the narrow passage completely, flames dancing faintly across his shoulders like an aura of dominance. His scowl deepened the moment his eyes landed on Izuku, the green hair boys posture stiffening instantly.
Izuku’s instincts screamed danger. His body reacted before his mind did—shoulders tensing, jaw locking, hands curling into fists. He flinched back, just enough to put space between them, before his glare hardened, sharp as shattered glass. “Get out of my way,” Izuku spoke, his voice low and venomous.
Endeavor didn’t move, he leaned forward instead, firelight casting harsh shadows across his face. “You.” The man growled, voice heavy with disdain. “Stay away from my son.”
Izuku’s pulse quickened, but his glare didn’t falter. His body trembled, not with fear, but with restrained anger. “I don’t take orders from you.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I will not allow you to taint him. The Todoroki bloodline will not be sullied. I don’t want your filth—your kind—passed down to my master piece.”
The words sliced into Izuku sharper than any blade. His throat tightened, a rush of heat rising in his chest, not from shame but from fury. His teeth clenched, every muscle in his body coiled, ready to lash out. “You—“ Izuku spat, voice trembling with rage. “You don’t even deserve to call yourself his father. You think you can dictate who he should be, who he should love? You don’t own him, I do.”
Flames flared hotter on Endeavor’s shoulders, the hallway growing uncomfortably warm as the man stepped closer, towering over Izuku with the full weight of his presence. “Stay away.” Endeavor.” Endeavor snarled. “Or I’ll burn the weakness out of you myself.”
Izuku’s pulse quickened was seconds from lunging forward, not caring if this was reckless, not caring if it meant getting scorched. He refused to stand down, not when this monster dared speak like that about Shouto.
He opened his mouth to throw back the words that clawed at his throat—when a sudden, familiar voice cut through the air.
“Izuku?”
Both of them turned.
There, at the end of the hallway, Shouto stood. His dual-colored eyes widened at the moment he saw Izuku cornered, then narrowed immediately at the sight of Endeavor looming over him.
Shouto’s expression darkened, shadows clinging to the sharp lines of his face.
Without hesitation, he strode forward, pacing himself between Izuku and Endeavor in one swift movement.
“What are you doing here?” Shouto asked flatly, though his voice held a dangerous edge meant for his father.
Endeavor’s fire dimmed slightly, caught off guard. “I’m warning him.” The man muttered, glaring over Shouto’s shoulder at Izuku.
“No” Shouto snapped, his voice colder than ice. “You don’t get to threaten him.” He planted firmly, his back straight, his shoulders squared. Every ounce of his body language screamed defiance. “If you have a problem with him, you go through me.”
Izuku’s chest constricted. He hasn’t expected Shouto to show up, let alone shield him like this. His glare softened for a moment as he looked at his boyfriend’s back, the protective stance radiating strength and fury on his behalf. His heart thudded heavily—equal parts awe and love.
Endeavor’s scowl deepened. “Shouto—“
“I don’t care what you think.” Shouto cut sharply, his voice rising. “Izuku is mine. If you have a problem with that, you’ll deal with me. Not him.”
The words echoed in the hallway, heavy and defiant.
Izuku’s eyes widened, heart skipping a beat at the raw possessiveness in Shouto’s tone.
For once, Endeavor was silent, his eyes burning into his son’s unyielding expression. The fire on his shoulders flared once, then flickered out. He clicked his tongue, muttered something under his breath, and turned sharply on his heel, his heavy footsteps retreating down the hall until he disappeared.
The moment he was gone, Shouto exhaled slowly, tension lingering in his body as though he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
Then, he turned, eyes softening the moment they landed on Izuku. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his voice gentler now.
Izuku stared at him, speechless for a beat, then let out a shaky laugh. “You….you really just told him off.”
Shouto’s lips twitched into a small smile, but his eyes stayed fierce. “I meant it. He doesn’t get to touch you. He didn’t get to talk to you like that.”
Before Izuku could respond, Shouto stepped closer, cupping his cheek with one hand, the other sliding around his waist. His touch was warm, grounding, and possessive. “You’re mine, Izuku.” He whispered firmly, eyes locked with his. “And I’ll protect you. Always.”
Izuku swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into the touch, his own hand reaching to cover Shouto’s. His voice was barley above a whisper, but filled convection. “I know. And I’m yours.”
The hallway was silent but for the distant roar of the crowd above. The sports festival was still waiting, but for Izuku and Shouto, the world had narrowed to this moment—two hearts, two promises, and a fire no one could extinguish.
Chapter 24: Ice and Flames, Bonds and Battles
Summary:
Only a matter of time
Notes:
I think I’ll post every 3 to 4 days from now on, just to keep myself at a good pace. Classes are back up so of course education comes first, but I’ll always have this story right here with me.
Chapter Text
The arena buzzed with restless anticipation as Midnight’s voice boomed across the loudspeakers, announcing the beginning of the second round: The Calvary Battle.
Students shuffled, groups forming as alliances began to take shape, tension palpable in the air. The entire stadium was alive with shouts, chants, and the flicker of camera drones capturing every nervous twitch and confident smirk from the hopeful contenders.
But while most eyes were on the field, Izuku only had one person on his mind, forever on his mind. Shouto Todoroki.
Shouto stood quietly among his classmates, cool and collected as ever, his mismatched eyes darting only once toward the crowd. And seeing Izuku in the very first row as before, he was him waiting for him, notebook clutched tightly to his chest, a warm, encouraging smile softening his features.
The tension in Shouto’s shoulders melted instantly at the look. Although they were backstage not too long ago, Izuku had to leave, due to a phone call, and yet here he was, back in his seat.
Shouto made his way over, ignoring the noise of the other students calling to each other, his gaze trained solely on Izuku.
“Come.” Shouto spoke softly, reaching out like it was the most natural thing in the world. His tone was steady, but his hand betrayed the faintest tremor of excitement. “Let me walk you to the staff booth.”
Izuku’s brows rose slightly but he smiled, letting his boyfriend guide him past the crowds. “You don’t need to, you know. You should be focusing on your team building.” He teased lightly, though the warmth in his voice revealed how much he appreciated the gesture.
Shouto, lips quirking in the smallest of smiles, only shook his head. “You’re more important than strategy.” His words were so matter of fact it made Izuku’s heart lurch in his chest, a blush rising despite himself.
When they reached the staff booth, President Mic leaned back in his chair, flashing his usual dazzling grin behind his yellow shades. “Heeeeey! If it isn’t my favorite green haired prodigy!” His booming voice filled the booth, nearly knocking Izuku off balance. “What brings ya here, little listener?”
Izuku laughed nervously, adjusting the strap of his bag as Shouto remained close behind him, productive as always. “I thought I’d…….take some notes during the Calvary Battle.” He explained honestly, holding up his familiar, worn-out notebook. “I want to analyze everyone’s quirks and strategies—it’s a learning opportunity.”
Mic’s grin widened. “Now that’s the Midoriya spirit! Always takin notes, always observing! Y’know what? Stay here with me, kid. Best seat in the house.”
Izuku’s eyes lit up in genuine surprise. “R-Really? You’d let me?”
“Course I would! You’re top of your class, right? You deserve a little extra credit view.” Mic leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his shades. “Besides, I could use someone with brains to balance out my style commentary!”
Izuku laughed, scratching at his cheek in embarrassment. He was about to thank him when a sudden warmth brushed against his face—Shouto leaned in, lips pressing softly against his cheek.
The kiss was fleeting, but deliberate, and Izuku froze, eyes wide. His notebook nearly slipped from his hands as Shouto whispered against his skin, just loud enough for him to hear.
“I’ll win, Izuku. And I’ll do it without ever using my left side.”
Izuku’s head whipped around, staring at him with disbelief. “Shouto….” His voice wavered, torn between affection and frustration. “That’s not right. The power—it’s yours. Not his.”
Shouto’s lips tightened, his brows furrowing as he tried to hold onto his resolve. But Izuku’s hand was already pressing against his chest, firm but tender, grounding him.
“Don’t let him control you.” Izuku continued, his green eyes fierce. “Ice or fire—both are yours. Both are you. You don’t need to deny yourself just because of him.” His words carried weight, every syllable dripping with the determination that always made Shouto’s heart race.
“If you want to prove something, then prove you’re not your father by using every part of who you are. Don’t limit yourself.”
For a moment, Shouto only stared, chest rising and failing as if each breath was a battle. Then slowly, his cheeks warmed, a blush creeping across his pale skin. He lowered his head slightly, lips parting with a faint. “….I’ll think about it.”
Izuku smiled, soft and proud, reaching up to brush his thumb against Shouto’s wrist. “Good. That’s all I ask.”
Reluctantly, Shouto stepped back, giving him one last lingering look before turning to join his team on the field.
The moment he was gone, Izuku pressed his notebook to his chest, the ghost of Shouto’s kiss still lingering on his cheek. His face flushed, his heart thundering, and he barely noticed President Mic chuckling behind him.
“Well, well, well.” Mic drawled, grinning like a cat with cream. “Looks like my boys got himself a fan. Or maybe more than that?”
Izuku sputtered, face going redder than ever. “N-No! It’s not like that!” He stammered, flushing beyond repair, trying to keep face.
“Ha! Sure, sure.” Mic laughed, adjusting his mic with a wink. “Don’t worry, kid. Your secrets safe with me.”
Izuku groaned, burying his face into his notebook as the stadium roared to life below them, the Calvary Battle moments away from beginning.
But even with all the chaos around him, his focus never strayed. His pen was ready, his mind sharp, but his heart….his heart was with Shouto. Always.
***
The air buzzed with excitement as the students regrouped on the field for the start of the Calvary Battle. From his new vantage point beside President Mic in the announcers booth, Izuku leaned forward with his notebook already open, pen poised. His green eyes stayed locked on only one person—Shouto.
“YOOO! Sports Festival hype keeps climbing—Calvary Battle, people!” President Mic’s voice boomed into the mic, playful and exaggerated. “Let’s see who teams up, who gets ditched, and who’s about to taste the dust!”
Izuku’s fingers curled tight around his pen. Every team forming on the field blurred into the background. He didn’t care who went with who—only how Shouto moved, how he strategized, how he’d claim victory.
When the headbands were strapped on and the rules finalized, the whistle blew. The arena erupted into chaos, students dashing, quirks flaring.
Izuku shot up from his seat, hands pressed against the glass as he shouted without hesitation, his voice booming loud over the mic when President Mic angled it toward him:
“Go, Shouto! You’ve got this!”
The words tore out of him, shameless and raw. Everyone in the arena heard him. The other classes. The pro-heroes. The crowd of strangers. It didn’t matter. His boyfriend was out there, and Izuku would cheer until his throat burned.
Shouto’s steps faltered for the briefest moment. He whipped his head toward the booth, eyes locking with Izuku’s. A faint blush dusted across his pale face once more, creeping from his ears to his neck. Still, he pressed forward, his team forming a solid defense as Shouto’s ice surged forward, freezing swaths of the ground to trap other teams.
The booth went still for a moment, then President Mic threw his head back, laughing loud enough for the stadium to quake. “OOOOH! Did y’all hear that? Sounds like my boy Izuku’s got some real spirit for a certain dual-colored contender down there!” He leaned toward Izuku, grinning wickedly. “You’re not even subtle, kid—adorable, but not subtle.”
Izuku flushed furiously, snapping his notebooks up to hide the lower half of his face. “S-shut up, Mic-sensei, I’m just cheering for him!”
“Cheering, huh?” President Mic wagged his brows, adjusting the mic. “You’re practically broadcasting love confessions to the entire arena! Kinda cute, not gonna lie.”
Down on the field, Shouto pressed his lips together, his blush refusing to fade as he surged forward. His heart hammered with every word Izuku shouted, every ounce of support he poured into the air. For once, the voices of the crowd faded into nothing. Only Izuku’s mattered.
But not everyone in the stands shared the same warmth.
From across the stadium, Endeavor’s booming voice cut through the noise like a war drum. “SHOUTO! Stop wasting time! Use your fire!”
The air seemed to grow heavy. Dozens of heads turned toward the flame hero in the stands, his massive figure looming as he leaned forward, glaring down at his son. His demand carried the weight of ownership, of command—like Shouto was his tool, not his boy.
Izuku’s grip tightened on his notebook, teeth grinding audibly. His whole body tensed with disgust. Rage bubbled up, choking his throat. How dare he—right here, in front of everyone—treat Shouto like that. Like he’s not his own person. Like he’s……his property.
He wanted to storm into the stands, wanting to rip the words back from Endeavor’s throat. His pen duh into the page, nearly tearing it.
President Mic noticed immediately, leaning sideways with a grin that had softening from teasing into something more knowing. “Don’t let him get to you, Izuku. Your boy’s got ice in his veins—literally. He’s not heading that old man right now. He’s hearing you.”
Izuku’s chest heaved, but when he glanced back down, he saw it was true. Shouto’s expression hadn’t changed. His pace was steady, his eyes locked only on the path ahead. He didn’t spare Endeavor even a glance.
Izuku’s heart cracked and swelled at once, pride and love bleeding through his anger. Shouto wasn’t Endeavor’s tool. He was his own, and right now, he was also Izuku’s partner—the one who wanted to grow stronger not for his father, but for him.
“Yeah.” Izuku murmured, voice thick with feeling. “He’s mine.”
President Mic smirked, eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Atta boy. Loud, proud, and completely smitten.” He leaned closer to the mic, his voice booming over the arena again. “HEY TODOROKI! Your number one fan’s up here about to lose his mind-/better make that blush worth it, huh?”
Shouto froze for a heartbeat, cheeks exploding red, before barreling forward with a sudden burst of ice, locking down two rival teams in thick glaciers. His team stumbled at the sheer intensity of the move, but Shouto didn’t care. His pulse raced, not because of his father’s shouting—because of Izuku’s.
The Cavalry Battle roared on, but in that stadium, with thousands of eyes on him, Todoroki Shouto fought not for his family name, not for victory’s sake—but for the boy in the booth who believed in him so fiercely it burned brighter than fire.
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