Hello everyone I'm writing a Fanfic for My Hero Academia, I hope you'll like it.
You can also find it on Wattpad: Amethyst. (Katsuki Bakugo x Reader) - AllisonBaelfire - Wattpad
-> I’ll reblog this post whenever I upload a new part!
Following the attack on the USJ, the public scrutiny intensifies towards the heroes, with particular focus on the youngest pro-hero and daughter of Endeavor. Despite nearly two years of hero work, she shall be attending the UA and will undergo official hero training.
However, she quickly discovers that being a hero was easier than navigating the complexities of a normal teenage life, especially when she finds herself falling for a stubborn, loud, and hot-headed blonde classmate while getting hated by her younger brother.
💠 Bakugo x Pro-Hero! Reader
💠 Reader is part of the Todoroki Family
💠 I don't own any of the Art!
💠 Characters and MHA belong to Horikoshi
💠 Storyline belongs to me
💠 I follow the Manga/Anime - Spoiler warning!
I stormed out of the training room, my frustration clawing at me like the flames I had just barely contained. The hallways of the agency were eerily quiet, the weight of what had just happened still pressing down on my chest. My feet carried me forward, but my mind was somewhere else—angry, confused, exhausted.
Why is it always him?
Bakugo’s voice had cut through the chaos when even I couldn’t. The thought twisted in my stomach like a knot I couldn’t untangle. I didn’t want to rely on anyone—especially not Bakugo. Yet, somehow, he was the one who always managed to reach me.
I turned a corner and nearly ran straight into him.
Bakugo was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his usual scowl firmly in place. His crimson eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a flicker of that same anger surge back to life.
“You did good,” he muttered, his voice low, almost begrudging.
My steps faltered. Good? My blood boiled at the simplicity of his words. How could he say that like it was nothing? Like I wasn’t hanging on by a thread?
I felt my frustration bubble over. “Why is it always you?” I blurted out, my voice louder than I intended. “Why do you get through to me when I can’t even control myself?”
Bakugo didn’t flinch, his eyes narrowing at me in that infuriating way he had. “Because you’re scared of your own quirk and yourself,” he said bluntly. “And I’m not.”
The words hit like a slap, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. He said it like it was obvious, like he’d known all along. Anger flared again, hotter this time, mixing with something else—something I couldn’t quite place.
“I’m not scared,” I snapped back, my fists clenching at my sides. “It’s you—ever since you came into my life, I can’t focus! I keep thinking about you and losing control!”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I froze. I hadn’t meant to say that. Did I really just say that?
Bakugo’s eyes widened just slightly, surprise flickering across his face. Then, just as quickly, his expression hardened again. “Thinking about me, huh?”
My face burned with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean—” I turned away, yanking the door to my room open. “Forget it!” I slammed the door behind me, leaning against it, my heart pounding.
I did NOT just say that.
__________
Best Jeanist’s POV
I watched as Y/N Todoroki stormed out of the training room, her frustration evident in every sharp movement. Her potential was undeniable, but that potential came with a weight—one she wasn’t fully prepared to carry yet. Today’s training had exposed the cracks, not just in her control over her quirk, but in the emotional foundation beneath it. She’s talented, but talent alone is never enough.
Her power is immense, but without emotional mastery, she’s walking a precarious line.
I reached for my phone, scrolling through the contacts until I found the one I needed. Shota Aizawa. He would need to know what transpired today. This isn’t something that could be resolved in a mere week of training.
The phone rang twice before Aizawa’s voice answered, gruff and to the point. “What is it, Tsunagu?”
“Aizawa, I need to discuss Todoroki’s progress. Specifically, the development of her quirk,” I replied, keeping my tone calm but serious. “Today, we saw something I believe she isn’t ready to handle.”
There was a pause on the other end before Aizawa spoke again. “What happened?”
“Her dragon manifested again—fully this time,” I explained. “It’s more than just a quirk manifestation. It’s… primal. And from what I observed, I’m not convinced she was in control of it.”
Silence. I could tell Aizawa was processing the information. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, but firm. “I expected something like this might happen. Tell me more.”
I glanced back at the training room, remnants of her quirk still lingering in the air. “Her ice and fire are coming along well—better than I expected. But the dragon… it feeds off something deeper, her emotions. And today, it took over.” I paused for a moment, then added, “It was Bakugo’s intervention that helped her regain control. I’m not sure she could have done it on her own.”
“I understand,” Aizawa replied, his tone thoughtful. “I’ve had another student once who couldn’t gain control over his Quirk until it was too late.”
I didn’t need to say it, but the comparison was there, lingering between us.
“There’s more to this,” I said, my tone shifting slightly. “If she’s going to master that part of herself, she’ll need more than just technical training. She needs time—and guidance.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her when she’s back at U.A.,” Aizawa replied. “But what about the rest of the internship?”
“She’s got a few days left here. I’ll continue to work with her, but the real challenge will begin once she’s back with you. The dragon is more than a quirk—it’s a reflection of her state of mind. Without emotional control, it will continue to control her.”
Aizawa was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “I’ll be ready.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Good. She’ll need all the support she can get.”
We ended the call, but I couldn’t shake the weight of the situation. Todoroki’s quirk was powerful, perhaps even more so than her father’s. But it wasn’t just her power that concerned me—it was the emotional struggle that came with it.
A part of me feared that if she didn’t find balance soon, the dragon might consume her.
__________
After the shower, I felt the tension ease a bit, though the weight of the day still sat heavily on my shoulders. I dried my hair quickly, pulling on a clean pair of pajamas, and sat at the small desk in my room. The laptop screen flickered to life, and I mindlessly opened up my browser, ready to distract myself.
But just as I was about to click on an episode of Gossip Girl to help unwind, a breaking news headline caught my eye.
Hero Killer: Stain Captured. Endeavor Leads the Charge.
My breath caught in my throat as I clicked on the article. The screen filled with an image that made my heart sink—Endeavor stood tall, victorious, without a scratch on him. But it wasn’t him I focused on. In the background, just behind him, I could see Shoto, Midoriya, and Iida… all bruised and looking utterly exhausted.
Stain—the Hero Killer. He was infamous for targeting pro heroes, claiming they were corrupt and unworthy of their titles. His ideology had spread fear throughout the hero community, his brutal attacks leaving both heroes and civilians on edge. And now, he had been captured.
But at what cost?
My heart twisted with worry.
Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and dialed Shoto. The phone rang, and with every second, the knot in my stomach tightened. He finally picked up after the third ring.
“Y/N?” Shoto’s voice was calm, but there was a heaviness to it that I recognized too well.
“Are you okay?” I asked immediately, my voice sharper than I intended. “I saw a picture of you, Midoriya, and Iida all beaten up—and not a scratch on Father.” The bitterness in my words was hard to hide.
“I’m fine,” Shoto replied, but there was a pause. His answer didn’t ease the tightness in my chest.
I sat there in silence for a moment, my mind replaying the image of them bruised and beaten. I hated that I hadn’t been there. Again. Just like when the villains attacked UA. I was always one step behind.
“I’m at the hospital,” Shoto added quietly.
My stomach twisted with guilt, a familiar feeling I couldn’t shake. Not again. I hadn’t been there to protect him. I hadn’t been there for any of it.
“You couldn’t have prevented it,” Shoto said, his voice softer now, as if he could sense what I was thinking. “I’m okay. The others are too. Don’t worry.”
I exhaled slowly, still unable to shake the guilt completely. Shoto always knew what to say, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.
“How’s your training going?” Shoto asked after a moment, surprising me with the shift in conversation.
I blinked, caught off guard. Shoto rarely asked about my training, at least not in recent years. I hesitated, unsure of how much to say. “Best Jeanist wanted to test the full extent of my quirk,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “Flames… and the dragon.”
“And?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Fire was okay, but he thinks I controlled the Dragon, but… I don’t think I did. It felt like… I wasn’t in control. Not really.”
There was a brief pause on the other end. “What do you mean?”
Before I could answer, there was a sudden knock at my door, loud and urgent. I turned my head toward the sound, feeling an unsettling tension in the air.
“I have to go,” I said quickly, glancing at the door. “I’ll tell you more when I get home.”
“Alright,” Shoto replied, though his voice was still laced with concern. “Take care, Y/N.”
I hung up and stood, moving toward the door. My mind was still swimming with the weight of the conversation when I opened it.
Standing there, with a scowl on his face and fire in his eyes, was Katsuki Bakugo.
__________
Bakugo’s POV
I didn’t even wait for her to say anything before I shoved my way into her room, slamming the door behind me. My anger boiled over the second I saw her, but it wasn’t just anger. It was frustration—frustration at her, at myself, at the whole damn day.
“You listen here, you little goddamn extra!” I growled, pointing a finger at her. “You can’t blame me for not being focused, since you first came to UA, you haven’t been focused.”
Y/N’s eyes narrowed, and I could see the spark of anger flare up in her. Good. Let her be mad.
“I helped you with that!” I continued, stepping closer, my fists clenching at my sides. “I’m the one who keeps pulling your ass out of the fire, and you still can’t see it!”
“You have no idea who I am or how focused I am!” Y/N shot back, her voice rising as she stepped forward, not backing down.
We were inches apart now, both of us fuming, both of us refusing to give an inch.
“You’re always blaming me for your screw-ups,” I snarled. “But if you wanna blame someone, blame yourself. Because of you, I’m not focused anymore!”
Y/N blinked, the anger in her eyes flickering with confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I didn’t give a hundred percent today!” I shouted, feeling my face grow hotter as the words poured out. “At Jeanist’s training, I wasn’t focused! And it’s your fault because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and your stupid goddamn pajamas and—”
I froze, my words catching in my throat. Shit. I didn’t mean to say that.
My face turned red as I tried to backtrack, but the damage was already done.
Y/N’s POV
I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Did he just… say what I thought he said?
Bakugo’s face was flushed, and for the first time, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had blurted out the truth without thinking, and now he was caught.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. My face was burning, and my heart was racing a mile a minute.
Without thinking, I turned on my heel and stormed back toward the door. My hands were trembling, and my mind was racing, but I needed an out. I needed to get away from this conversation—away from him.
I yanked the door open, fully prepared to leave, but Bakugo’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Don’t walk away,” he growled, frustration thick in his voice. “Not again.”
I froze, his words hitting harder than I expected. Slowly, I turned to face him, my hand still gripping the doorknob.
“I’m not—” I began, but the words caught in my throat. The tension between us was suffocating, and the heat of my embarrassment mixed with the anger swirling in my chest.
Bakugo stepped closer, his voice lowering just a bit. “You think you’re the only one who’s pissed off? The only one dealing with this?”
My breath hitched as I met his gaze. His usual sharp, fiery eyes held something else—something I couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t just angry. There was something more beneath the surface.
“Bakugo, I—” I started, but I couldn’t finish. My heart was racing too fast, my thoughts too scattered.
“You drive me crazy,” he muttered, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “But you’ve also been the only thing I can’t stop thinking about. And it’s screwing with me.”
My eyes widened as his words sank in, the truth in them cutting through the chaos in my head. I felt my face grow even hotter, but before I could respond, Bakugo took a step back, his usual scowl returning in full force.
“Tch. Forget it,” he snapped, turning toward the door. “You’re too much of a pain in the ass anyway.”
Before I could say anything, Bakugo stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The echo of it vibrated through the air, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.
What the hell just happened?
_________
The door slammed shut behind Bakugo, but it didn’t stop the storm inside my head. His words echoed, louder than anything else in the room.
You’ve been the only thing I can’t stop thinking about. And it’s screwing with me.
My heart hammered in my chest, and I was rooted in place, staring at the door like it held the answers to the chaos Bakugo had left behind. He was always like this, breaking down walls I didn’t even know I had built, leaving me more confused than ever.
I groaned, running my hands through my hair, trying to clear my head. Why did I say that? Why did I tell him I’ve been thinking about him?
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. I was supposed to be in control, of myself, of my quirk, of everything. But ever since Bakugo showed up in my life, control was the last thing I had. And now, after everything we just said to each other, I didn’t even know what to think anymore.
I sank down onto the edge of the bed, my mind spinning in a dozen different directions. Bakugo had always gotten under my skin, his bluntness, his temper—everything about him irritated me. But there was also something else there, something I didn’t want to admit. Maybe it was why his words hit so hard. Maybe it was why he could calm me down when no one else could.
I felt a flush crawl up my neck again as I replayed his words in my head. You’re too much of a pain in the ass anyway.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. I wanted to march back out into the hall and demand he explain himself. But I didn’t. Instead, I buried my face in my hands and let out a frustrated sigh.
I stayed on the bed for what felt like hours, my mind drifting back and forth between everything that had happened today—Shoto’s voice on the phone, Bakugo’s infuriating words, the overwhelming chaos of my quirk.
Shoto had been fighting Stain, and I hadn’t been there to protect him. Again. It was like I was always just a step too far away, unable to help when it really mattered.
I sighed, leaning back against the pillows and staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep feeling like I was failing everyone around me—Shoto, Bakugo, even myself.
Rolling over, I grabbed my laptop and opened it, hoping that distracting myself would be enough to make me fall asleep. I clicked back to the episode of Gossip Girl I had been watching earlier, hoping it would calm my nerves. But even as the familiar drama unfolded on the screen, my mind refused to settle. My thoughts kept drifting back to Bakugo, to the way he looked at me, to the words he had blurted out before storming off.
You’ve been the only thing I can’t stop thinking about.
I groaned, shutting the laptop. After a few restless hours, I knew sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how much I wanted it to. I missed the feeling of last night—of falling asleep in Bakugo’s arms. No, I told myself. I can’t think about that.
But the more I tried to push it away, the more I wanted it back. The warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way I felt safe for the first time in what felt like forever.
I sat up, glancing at the clock. It was late, way too late to do what I was thinking about doing. But the thought was already planted in my mind, and before I knew it, I was grabbing my laptop and padding quietly toward Bakugo’s room.
I hesitated for a moment outside his door, my hand hovering just inches away from knocking. What am I doing? I asked myself, doubt creeping in. He’s probably asleep. I was about to turn around and head back to my own room when the door creaked open.
Bakugo stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at me, my pajamas rumpled, and my laptop tucked under my arm.
“What the hell do you want?” His voice was gruff, but there was no real bite behind it.
I opened my mouth, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out. Instead, I just stood there, staring up at him like an idiot.
He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he stepped back and opened the door wider, letting me in without a word.
I hesitated for only a second before walking inside. His room was dimly lit, and he moved back to his bed, sliding under the covers as if this was the most normal thing in the world. I watched as he adjusted the blanket, opening it slightly, silently inviting me to join him.
My heart pounded in my chest, but I followed his lead, crawling into the bed next to him. The moment I lay down, Bakugo grabbed the laptop from me, resting it on his stomach and turning me to face him, pulling me into his arms.
For a second, I stiffened, unsure of what to do, but the warmth of his body and the steady rise and fall of his breathing melted away my anxiety. I relaxed against him, my head resting on his chest as he clicked play on the episode of Gossip Girl we had started last night.
The sound of the show played in the background, but I barely registered it. My mind was too busy processing the fact that I was lying here, in Bakugo’s arms, for the second night in a row.
Before I knew it, sleep began to creep in, my eyelids growing heavy. I was drifting off, wrapped in the warmth and safety of his presence, when I heard him mutter softly, almost too quiet to catch.
“Damn, Frostburn, you drive me nuts.”
_______
Amethyst. - Masterlist: click here
-> You can find my Story on Wattpad!
_______
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I stepped into the agency, catching sight of Bakugo as he stormed outside with some of Jeanist’s sidekicks. His eyes locked on mine, and the glare he shot me was intense—angry, even. I felt a strange twist in my chest. What was his problem now?
Shaking off the thought, I made my way toward Best Jeanist’s office. He was already waiting for me when I entered, his posture straight and impeccable, as always.
“I hear you assisted in apprehending a thief today. Your teamwork with Mirko was commendable,” he said, his voice calm, yet sharp with precision. “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to collaborate so effectively with others.”
I frowned internally. Why does everyone keep saying that? Probably because of the Todoroki name—people expect us to be loners, like my father. But I’m not him. I couldn’t help but smirk, feeling a bit proud.
Jeanist’s keen eyes caught the expression immediately. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on it. Instead, his tone became slightly more curious. “You seem to be in high spirits, Miss Todoroki. Let’s see if you can channel that focus properly. Show me the full extent of what your quirk is capable of.”
________
I followed him into a vast training room. It was immaculate—sleek metal walls and polished glass overhead. The open space had a sterile, minimalist design. It felt too clean, too controlled, and that made me uneasy. There were no obstacles, no clear targets—just a vast emptiness waiting to be filled.
Jeanist noticed my hesitation, his gaze sharp but patient. “No one but me will observe you,” he said, his tone steady and professional. “You don’t need to concern yourself with damaging anything here. And you certainly won’t harm me.”
I glanced at him, momentarily caught off guard by how easily he seemed to read me. There was something about him, the way he stayed composed, always a step ahead.
“This training area,” he continued, his voice maintaining that calm cadence, “was built for those with far more volatile and less controlled quirks than yours. It will endure whatever you unleash—ice, fire… even your dragon.”
I hesitated. Dragon. The word alone made my stomach churn. When I was still a child, I lost control. I had spent years keeping that part of me hidden. After the festival, feeling that monster again… I wasn’t ready to face it. I was afraid—afraid of what I could become if I unleashed it the way Jeanist wanted me to.
Jeanist gave me no time to dwell on my fear. Without warning, denim threads shot toward me, swift and precise, like coiling snakes. Instinctively, I threw up a wall of ice, feeling the familiar chill wrap around me as the ice shot forward, meeting his quirk with a sharp crack.
“You’ve honed your ice well,” he noted, his voice still calm as he withdrew his threads, as if he was merely observing a minor experiment. “But that’s not what I’m interested in.”
His attacks came again, faster and more calculated. Every move he made was deliberate, forcing me to react, to stay on my toes. I dodged and countered, sending more ice to block his advances, but it was clear what he wanted. He wanted the fire. He wanted me to lose control.
But I wouldn’t let it happen.
The threads constricted around my arms, pulling tighter as I struggled to maintain focus. My muscles were starting to burn from the exertion, my mind fraying at the edges. But I refused to let go. I wouldn’t let it out. I wouldn’t lose control again.
Jeanist’s voice cut through the tension like a finely sharpened blade. “You’re holding back, Miss Todoroki,” he said, his tone not scolding but sharp enough to demand attention. “That hesitation, that fear, will cost you. You’ve faced worse than this. Why stop yourself now?”
I stumbled back as his threads pulled tighter, restricting my movements even more. I could feel the pressure building inside, but I pushed it down, the cold of my ice spreading beneath my feet. “I don’t need the fire,” I shot back, my voice tense. “My ice is enough.”
Jeanist’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still unreadable but his tone taking on an edge of challenge. “Is it?” he asked, his voice measured. “Your brother thought he could manage his power alone too… look where that got him.”
The world seemed to stop. Those words struck deep, igniting something I couldn’t control. Anger, sharp and blistering, surged through me. How dare he mention him?
“You don’t know anything about him!” I shouted, and in that moment, I lost my grip. The fire broke free, erupting from my hands in a scorching wave of heat, hotter and more intense than I had ever let it burn before.
Jeanist didn’t move as the flames surged toward him. His gaze remained steady, analyzing every detail, every movement. It was as though he had been waiting for this moment.
“That’s more like it,” he said, his voice even, watching with focused interest as I unleashed both ice and fire in a chaotic swirl.
But something was wrong. This fire didn’t feel like it belonged to me. It pulled at me, something deeper, something primal, waking inside. Heat and cold surged together, and my vision blurred. I felt a creeping sensation at the edges of my mind, like something—no, someone—else was there. A shadow stirring, growing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching, waiting. My body felt distant, as though I wasn’t fully there, like I was watching from a foggy distance, disconnected from the reality in front of me. And then, I saw it.
The dragon.
It appeared slowly at first, a hazy outline forming out of my flames, its body lined with shimmering, icy scales. My breath hitched as I felt its presence take shape, solidifying, towering above me. The creature’s eyes glowed the same deep purple as mine. I watched, helpless, as it moved with a will of its own—roaring, loud and deafening, shaking the very air around us.
“Stop… I don’t want this,” I whispered, my voice trembling, but the words barely escaped my lips. The dragon didn’t respond. It was like it didn’t hear me—or worse, it didn’t care.
Best Jeanist’s voice came through, steady but with a sharper edge. “Y/N, stay focused. Don’t let it control you. You are still in control.”
“I… I’m trying!” My own voice felt far away, like it was being drowned out by the roar of the flames and the crackling of ice beneath me. I reached out, trying to pull back the power, but it was too much. The dragon was too strong, and it wasn’t listening to me.
A sharp, jarring sensation ran through me as I tried to reel it back. I reached for control, but it slipped through my fingers like water. Panic rose in my chest as I realized I couldn’t stop it. The dragon wasn’t just a manifestation of my quirk anymore—it had its own mind, its own power.
“Y/N, focus!” Jeanist called out again, his voice cutting through the chaos. He moved quickly, dodging as the dragon’s massive claws slashed through the air, the ice beneath it cracking under the pressure. His eyes remained locked on me, calculating. He wasn’t panicking, but I could see it in his gaze—he was analyzing every move, every reaction, waiting for the right moment.
“I can’t—” I gasped, feeling the fire rage hotter, the cold biting deeper into my skin. “I can’t stop it!”
“You can,” Jeanist insisted, his voice firmer now. He dodged again as the dragon lunged toward him, flames and ice tearing through the room. “This isn’t just your quirk, Y/N. It’s connected to your emotions. Calm your mind!”
But I couldn’t calm it. The dragon was feeding off something inside me, something dark and uncontrollable. It was like it didn’t care about my fear—it thrived on it.
“Stop!” I yelled again, more desperate this time. But the dragon moved on its own, relentless and brutal. It lunged toward Jeanist, its eyes glowing brighter, and for a moment, I felt like it was smiling—enjoying the chaos, enjoying the power.
I stumbled, falling to my knees as my vision blurred. The flames surged higher, and I could barely breathe. It was too much. My heart raced in panic, but my body stayed frozen, trapped in the storm of power surrounding me.
Then, through the haze of ice and fire, I heard Best Jeanist’s voice again, calmer but urgent. “This is more than you’ve dealt with before, but you can handle it. I need you to breathe. Focus. Regain control.”
“I’m trying!” I shouted, but the fear was overwhelming. The dragon roared again, its massive head twisting toward the viewing window. My eyes followed, and there, standing behind the glass, was Bakugo. His face was twisted in frustration, fists clenched at his sides as he yelled into the speakers.
“Frostburn! Stop this shit right now!” His voice boomed over the chaos, sharp and angry.
The dragon paused, its massive body shifting instantly. It walked toward Bakugo, its glowing purple eyes narrowing as though it recognized him as a threat.
He was still standing behind the viewing glass, his crimson eyes fixed on me – ignoring the Dragons gaze. But unlike before, his expression wasn’t filled with anger or frustration—it was something else. Concern, maybe? No, it wasn’t possible. Bakugo didn’t do concern. But there was something about the way he stood there, fists clenched, jaw tight, like he was holding back from stepping in himself.
“Katsuki…” I whispered, the name barely making it past my lips.
Then, through the haze of ice and fire, I heard a voice—deep, monstrous.
“He’ll hurt us.”
No. A spike of fear ran through me. The dragon’s going to hurt him. I wanted to shout, to stop it, but the words wouldn’t come. The flames inside the dragon grew hotter, crackling with intensity as it prepared to strike. And then I felt it—a wave of heat rising inside me, something dangerous. The dragon was reacting to my emotions, my fear, and it wasn’t going to stop.
“He’ll hurt us,” the voice growled in my head, louder this time.
“No,” I managed to say, a little louder this time. “He won’t.”
But the dragon didn’t care. It snarled, flames curling up from its mouth as it reared back, ready to attack. I could feel the heat rising again, burning through my chest, suffocating me. My control was slipping, and the dragon was ready to strike.
Bakugo’s voice cut through the haze again, this time rougher, but still sharp enough to cut through the fog in my mind.
“Don’t give me that crap, Frostburn! I know you can stop this!” He took a step forward, hands clenched at his sides. “You control it! Not the other way around!”
His words hit me hard, and I could feel something inside me shift. My breath came out in short, ragged gasps as I tried to focus, tried to take back control. But the dragon wasn’t listening to me anymore. It was too strong, too wild, and it was feeding off everything I didn’t want to admit—fear, anger, frustration. I wasn’t in control.
“Katsuki…” My voice trembled. “I… I can’t…”
Bakugo slammed his fist against the window, his face twisted in anger. “Bullshit! You did it before! You can do it again!”
Best Jeanist watched me, his threads shooting out to intercept the dragon’s attack. The flames collided with the denim, but they didn’t stop. They were too hot, too powerful, and they melted through Jeanist’s defense like it was nothing.
The dragon reared back, preparing for another strike, its eyes glowing with that same menacing purple light. Stop, I wanted to scream. Please stop. My heart pounded in my chest, fear clawing at me as I struggled to take control.
“Remember, you control it! You’re stronger than this! Fight back, Frostburn!”
And then, through the storm of power, I heard Bakugo again. His voice was different this time—not angry, but determined.
I felt something shift inside me, his words cutting through the fog. Stronger… I could feel the dragon’s power, but I could also feel my own, buried beneath the fear. It was there, waiting for me to take hold. My breath came in ragged gasps as I reached for it, my hands trembling as I tried to regain control.
The dragon’s eyes flickered, its gaze snapping back to me for the briefest of moments. The flames around it slowed, the ice beneath its feet cracking but not spreading. I could feel it—my control returning, bit by bit. But it wasn’t enough. The dragon still moved, still raged, and I wasn’t sure I could stop it.
Jeanist’s voice echoed through the training room. “Y/N, focus! You’re the one in control. Not the dragon. You!”
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to breathe, to focus on my own power, not the dragon’s. The flames inside me flickered, the ice cracked beneath my feet, and I pushed harder, reaching deeper for control. The dragon roared again, but this time, it didn’t attack. It hesitated, its movements slower, less wild.
“Bakugo, keep speaking!” Jeanist ordered, his voice cutting through the tension.
“Tch.” He muttered. “I know you can do it!” Bakugo yelled through the speaker. “You did it at the festival—just do it again!”
And then, with one final surge of energy, I felt it—the dragon’s grip on me loosening. The dragon dissolved into mist, its flames and icy scales fading into nothing. But the air was still thick with tension, the cold biting at my skin as I dropped to the ground, gasping for air. My legs felt weak, trembling beneath me, and my heart pounded wildly in my chest.
I glanced down at my hands—pale, almost blue from the cold—and for a moment, all I could hear was the deafening roar of my own heartbeat. My breath came in short gasps as I tried to steady myself, to make sense of what had just happened.
Jeanist approached cautiously, his gaze trained on me, watching for any signs that I might lose control again. “Y/N?” His voice was calm, steady, but there was an edge to it now—an understanding that hadn’t been there before.
I nodded weakly, trying to force my breathing back to normal. “I… I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice raw and hoarse. The words felt hollow, meaningless. Sorry for what? For almost losing control? For the dragon? For the voice that I wasn’t even sure was real?
Jeanist shook his head slowly, crouching down to meet my gaze. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said firmly. His expression softened, but his eyes remained sharp. “Now we know what we’re dealing with.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight with fear. “I… couldn’t stop it.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I had lost control—not just of my quirk, but of myself. And that scared me more than anything.
Jeanist’s gaze didn’t waver. “You did stop it,” he said, his voice unwavering. “You regained control. And that’s what matters.”
His words were meant to comfort me, but they didn’t ease the knot of anxiety twisting inside. The dragon wasn’t just a technique—it was alive. It had its own will, its own mind. And for a terrifying moment, I hadn’t been sure if I was in control—or if it had been controlling me.
That voice… That deep, monstrous voice. Was it mine? Or was it the dragon’s?
I clenched my fists, still shaking. I wasn’t sure what scared me more—the fact that I had unleashed the dragon, or the part of me that didn’t want to let go of its power.
Jeanist’s voice was calm, measured as he stood. “You’re going to need more training, Y/N. This isn’t something we can fix in a week. I’ll talk to Aizawa—we’ll need his help to get this under control.”
Bakugo’s voice came through the speaker again, quieter this time. “Frostburn… Told ya, you can do it.”
I glanced toward the window, my breath catching in my throat. Why did his voice cut through the chaos when I couldn’t even reach my own power? It wasn’t right—he shouldn’t have been the one who got through to me. That should have been me. But… it wasn’t.
Jeanist turned to Bakugo. “Your assistance was timely, Bakugo. You provided what was needed for her to regain control. I’ll handle things from here.”
Bakugo didn’t protest, but his gaze lingered on me before he turned and left. I watched him go, my mind a swirl of questions and confusion.
__________
Jeanist’s attention returned to me, his expression thoughtful yet composed. I clenched my fists, still shaking. I wasn’t sure what scared me more—the fact that I had unleashed the dragon, or the fact that a part of me didn’t want to let go of that power.
But there was something else gnawing at me, something I didn’t want to admit. The dragon had been protecting me. I could feel it, deep inside, that primal instinct driving it forward, to shield me from harm. And that voice—it had said he’ll hurt us. But who? Bakugo? Jeanist?
Or… me?
Best Jeanist’s gaze remained steady. “Fear and anger fuel chaos, but what grounded you today was something else—your emotions, tied to Bakugo. Whether you realize it or not, they helped bring you back.”
I stared at him, my chest tightening. “My emotions… tied to him?” The thought seemed impossible. Katsuki?
Jeanist nodded. “Strong emotions, when properly directed, can bring clarity. Your connection with Bakugo helped center you. But you need to find that balance on your own.”
I frowned, unable to shake the discomfort. Bakugo? It didn’t make sense. He was loud, annoying, always pushing my buttons. How could he have any part in me regaining control?
“I stopped it,” I muttered, more to myself.
Jeanist’s expression didn’t change. “You did. But his presence helped you focus.”
I clenched my fists. Why him? Why did his words cut through the storm when nothing else did?
Bakugo was loud, obnoxious, and always getting under my skin. He was a constant thorn in my side, always pushing my buttons. But then… there were the moments that didn’t fit that picture. At the festival, his words had snapped me out of the chaos, given me control. And then, when he came into my room the other night, fell asleep next to me… I hadn’t had nightmares for the first time in years.
Jeanist rose, leaving the thought hanging in the air. “Reflect on it. For now, remember, you’ll need to find that strength without relying on anyone else.”
_______
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I woke up to the soft morning light seeping through the curtains, a rare sense of calm lingering in the room. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together the events of the night. No nightmares. No cold sweats. Just… peace.
That never happens.
I rubbed my eyes, pushing myself up into a sitting position. My body still felt heavy from the patrol, the soreness a reminder of the long day before. But my mind was clear, a sharp contrast to the usual chaos that filled my dreams.
I glanced to the side, where the pillow next to me still held the faint indent of someone’s head. Bakugo. He had been there. My fingers brushed against the fabric, and I caught the scent of something lingering—strong, sharp, almost smoky, —like burnt caramel mixed with cedarwood, something bold but not overwhelming. It was unmistakably his.
So, I hadn’t imagined it. He really did stay.
I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the pillow for a second longer. Why did he leave? And why was I even wondering that? It was probably better this way. The last thing I needed was to overthink Bakugo of all people being… well, considerate. If I brought it up, he’d probably just deny it anyway. I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of this.
But still… why didn’t I have any nightmares when he was here?
I shook the thought away, knowing I didn’t have time to dwell on it. It was 6 a.m., and Best Jeanist wasn’t the type to let anyone slack off. Today, I’d need to be focused, not lost in the confusion of last night. I climbed out of bed and slipped into my hero suit—the familiar black and lilac design, built to withstand both fire and ice.
The agency was quiet this early, a few sidekicks who were up were already preparing for their assignments. I grabbed some coffee and toast in the cafeteria of the Agency, quickly finishing up before making my way to Best Jeanist’s office.
When I arrived, Bakugo was already there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and staring out the window. He didn’t even acknowledge me as I entered.
I didn’t bother trying to get his attention. Instead, I found a spot by the door and waited. My mind was still buzzing with unanswered questions—about last night, about Bakugo’s strange display of restraint—but I pushed it down. None of that mattered right now. What mattered was proving myself to Best Jeanist.
Exactly at 7 a.m., the door opened, and Jeanist stepped in, his presence as composed and steady as always. “Punctuality is the foundation of discipline,” he said, his gaze flicking between Bakugo and me. “You both have shown that much, at least.”
His eyes lingered on me for a moment, sharp and analytical, as if trying to read something deeper. “Today,” he continued, “we will be testing your power. I need to see where each of you stands—not just in terms of strength, but in control. Power without control is a liability, both to yourselves and to those around you.”
Bakugo shifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked ready to explode into action at the mere mention of power. Jeanist, however, wasn’t going to let him dive headfirst into it without testing his restraint. That much was clear.
“Bakugo,” Jeanist said, turning his attention to him. “You’ll be first. I want to see the extent of your quirk and how you manage it under pressure.”
Bakugo pushed himself off the wall, cracking his neck as he did so. “Finally,” he muttered under his breath, the eagerness in his voice barely contained.
Jeanist turned to me next. “Y/N, you will accompany one of my sidekicks on patrol while I work with Bakugo. But don’t think you’re being sidelined,” he added, his tone firm. “When you return, I will test you personally too. I need to understand not only your quirk but your control over it. Power is only as useful as your ability to manage it, and I intend to push you both.”
I nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves twist in my stomach. It wasn’t just about showing off what I could do, it was about showing that I could handle it. That I could control the ice and fire inside me – which I couldn’t control at the same time.
Jeanist’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if sensing my thoughts. “At the end of the week, both of you will face each other in a sparring match. It will be your final test—to see not only how far you’ve come but how well you’ve internalized what you’ve learned.”
Bakugo’s smirk widened. His eyes briefly flicked to me, his expression almost taunting. “Hope you’re ready, Frostburn. I don’t pull punches.”
I met his gaze evenly, refusing to be intimidated. “Neither do I.”
Jeanist’s gaze swept over both of us. “Remember, this isn’t just about victory. It’s about discipline. Control. I expect nothing less than absolute focus.”
With that, he gestured for me to follow the sidekick waiting by the door. As I left the office, my mind kept circling around the same thought—control. It had always been my biggest challenge. For years, I had struggled to keep my quirk in check, to prevent it from overwhelming me. This internship was supposed to help me with that.
But as I glanced back at Bakugo, still standing in Jeanist’s office, that familiar fire in his eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder how much of this week would be about learning control—and how much would be about proving something to myself. Or maybe even to him.
_________
As I stood in the hallway, waiting to be picked up by one of Best Jeanist’s sidekicks, my mind drifted back to the sight of Bakugo and Jeanist heading towards the training room. Bakugo’s usual cocky stride, hands jammed into his pockets, seemed even more exaggerated today, probably eager to show off his power. My eyes lingered on him longer than I intended, tracing the strong lines of his shoulders as he walked away.
Snap out of it, I thought, shaking my head slightly.
“Do you think he’s handsome?” a curious voice asked from beside me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Startled, I turned to see none other than the Rabbit Hero, Rumi Usagiyama—better known as Mirko—standing next to me with a smirk on her face. I didn’t know much about her besides she became a Pro-Hero at a young age as well and that Hawks and her were friends too.
“Mirko?” I blinked, trying to process her question before focusing on the fact that she was even here. “Wait, what are you doing here? You’re not a sidekick.”
Mirko grinned, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. “I may have lost a bet the other night at the ballroom, and now I’ve got to help out here for a month.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s actually not that bad. Jeanist runs a tight ship, but it’s nice to switch things up once in a while.”
I raised an eyebrow, still confused but not entirely surprised. Mirko was known for being unpredictable and, of course, not backing down from a challenge—especially if Hawks was involved. “A bet? With Hawks, I assume?” I asked, trying not to laugh at the thought.
She nodded, chuckling. “Yeah, that bastard tricked me into it. But hey, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.” Mirko pushed off the wall, eyeing me. “You ready for patrol?”
I gave her a quick nod, still trying to wrap my head around the idea of her helping out at Best Jeanist’s agency. Mirko wasn’t the type to stay in one place for too long, and it was odd seeing her in this more restrained environment. But as always, she made it seem like no big deal.
Together, we made our way outside, the cool morning air hitting us as we stepped into the street. The city was just starting to wake up, civilians going about their routines, but my mind was still buzzing with everything that had happened earlier. Patrol with Mirko was definitely not what I had expected for today.
“So,” Mirko began casually as we walked, “you and Bakugo, huh?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
She smirked again, that knowing gleam in her eye. “Oh, come on. You were staring at him back there. And don’t tell me it was just because he’s loud.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, but I quickly shook my head, trying to play it off. “I wasn’t staring.” I said while remembering last night and how I stared at him while he was asleep.
As we continued walking, Mirko’s words hung in the air, and I couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth rising in me. It was the second time this morning that I’d caught myself thinking about Bakugo—first when I woke up, and now, with Mirko calling me out on it. The problem was… I didn’t understand why.
I’d never felt like this before. Sure, Bakugo had always been loud, obnoxious, and impossible to ignore. But now, I kept replaying moments from last night in my head, the way he had just… stayed. The feeling of safety I hadn’t even realized I craved. My fingers brushed my wrist absentmindedly as I walked, my mind drifting back to the warmth of his presence next to me.
What’s wrong with me? I thought, biting the inside of my cheek. I wasn’t used to this—feeling confused by my own emotions. I had spent most of my life being homeschooled, away from the normal experiences kids my age had. Also becoming a pro hero at such a young age meant I was surrounded by adults, constantly trying to prove myself. Socializing with people my age? Building friendships? That was still new to me, and these strange, fluttery feelings toward Bakugo were something I didn’t know how to navigate.
“Earth to Y/N?” Mirko’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, her smirk returning as she glanced over at me. “You’re zoning out again. Thinking about someone?”
My face heated up again, and I quickly shook my head. “I’m not—” I started, but I stopped myself. She had a way of cutting through my defenses without even trying. “I’m just… thinking.”
Mirko raised a brow, her teasing expression softening a little. “Look, kid, I get it. You’ve got a lot going on up here,” she said, tapping her temple lightly. “But don’t let it mess with your focus. Out here, distractions can get you hurt. Or worse.”
I nodded, grateful that she wasn’t pushing the issue too hard. “I know. I’ll focus.”
We walked in silence for a few more minutes, the streets starting to bustle with morning activity. I tried to clear my head, forcing myself to concentrate on the patrol. Best Jeanist had entrusted me with this, and I wasn’t going to let him down.
Suddenly, Mirko’s ears twitched, and her eyes narrowed as she scanned the area. “Something’s up,” she muttered, her tone sharpening.
Just as I turned my head to look, I saw it too—a man weaving through the crowd, clutching a bulging bag to his chest. The way he moved, quick and jittery, set off alarms in my mind. A civilian shouted after him, “He stole my bag!”
That was all we needed.
Without wasting a second, Mirko shot forward, her powerful legs propelling her through the crowd like a bullet. “Stay close, Frostburn!” she called over her shoulder, already gaining on the thief.
I sprinted after her, my mind sharpening with focus. No distractions. I pushed the thoughts of last night to the back of my head. Right now, I needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
The thief glanced back, his eyes wide with panic as he realized he was being chased. He tried to pick up the pace, but Mirko was faster. With a single leap, she closed the distance, landing in front of him and cutting off his escape route.
“Not so fast,” she smirked, cracking her knuckles as the thief skidded to a stop.
I approached from behind, quickly freezing the ground beneath his feet. He wobbled, losing his balance, and before he could recover, I sent a thin layer of ice climbing up his legs, locking him in place. “You’re not going anywhere,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
The thief struggled against the ice, but it was no use. Mirko, ever the professional, grabbed the stolen bag from him and tossed it back to the grateful civilian who had caught up.
“Thanks, heroes!” the man panted, clearly relieved.
The police arrived shortly after, taking the thief into custody and handling the rest. Mirko and I watched as they led him away, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of satisfaction at how smoothly it had gone. We made a good team, even though it was our first time working together.
“You’re not as distracted as Hawks said,” Mirko commented casually once the scene had calmed down.
I blinked, turning to her. “What?”
Mirko’s words brought back memories of my time with Hawks. He’d always been laid-back, treating me more like a friend than just a sidekick. Our patrols were filled with jokes and light-hearted banter, even when things got serious. But beneath his casual exterior, there was always control and purpose. He pushed me to stay sharp, to read the situation, but always made it feel natural.
“Kid, don’t take yourself too seriously,” he’d say. “You’ll burn out if you do.”
I smiled at the memory. Hawks had a way of making me feel comfortable, but still pushing me to be better. He wasn’t just a mentor—he was a friend. That had been a welcome break from the weight of family expectations. But working with Mirko felt different. She wasn’t easing me into things. It was fast, direct, and intense. And it was exactly what I needed right now. Being around her made me feel stronger.
I couldn’t help but feel a small rush of pride, though I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. “Well, I slept better than usual,” I muttered, almost to myself, thinking back to the night before.
Mirko’s smirk widened. “I bet you did. I saw you staring at Bakugo earlier, too. He the reason you’re feeling so rested?” she teased, her tone playful, but I could tell she was enjoying making me squirm.
My face flushed again, and I quickly shook my head. “No! It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” She gave me a wink. “Whatever you say, Frostburn.” She emphasized the nickname, clearly picking it up from Bakugo’s earlier taunts.
I sighed, trying to hide my embarrassment as we continued our patrol. But even as I pushed the conversation aside, I couldn’t ignore the strange warmth that crept back into my chest every time I thought about last night.
_________
As we walked back to the agency, the city was starting to fully wake up. The streets were busier now, with civilians going about their day, completely unaware of the brief chase that had just unfolded. Mirko walked beside me, her stride confident and easy, though I could feel the energy still pulsing in the air from our earlier teamwork.
“You did good out there,” she said, not looking at me but keeping her sharp eyes on the road ahead. “Especially considering you’ve mostly done night patrols.”
I could tell she was testing the waters, not wanting to dig too deep into my past as a pro hero. I appreciated her not treating me like some fragile thing.
“It’s fine,” I replied, my voice steady. “I’ve had time to get used to it, and honestly, it’s probably for the best. This way, I can really focus on learning more about my powers.”
Mirko nodded approvingly. “Damn right. You’ve got a lot of raw power, Frostburn. Jeanist can teach you control, but don’t ever forget the strength you already have.” She shot me a glance, her eyes gleaming with something like respect. “Just gotta know how to use it without burning yourself out. You’ll get there.”
I chuckled at her using Bakugo’s nickname for me, and though I wasn’t fully used to it yet, hearing it from Mirko somehow made it feel less teasing and more like a challenge. A good challenge.
“Thanks, Mirko,” I said, appreciating her blunt but genuine words.
“Don’t go getting all sentimental on me now,” she teased, grinning. “You’re strong. Don’t let anyone—especially yourself—hold you back.”
We reached the entrance of the agency, and Mirko stretched her arms over her head, clearly unbothered by the morning’s events. “Looks like this is where we part ways. Jeanist is probably waiting to put you through the wringer now. Don’t keep him waiting.” She gave me a sharp grin, full of energy even after the patrol.
“Right,” I nodded, giving her a small wave. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it. See you around, Frostburn,” she said with a smirk, before turning and striding away, her usual confidence practically radiating off her.
As I watched her disappear into the distance, I couldn’t help but wonder why Mirko was here in the first place. Losing a bet to Hawks? Sure, that sounded like her, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Hawks had always been the type to pull strings behind the scenes, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d asked Mirko to keep an eye on me. But if that was the case, she wasn’t going to admit it—not her style.
I sighed, shaking the thought away as I stepped back into the agency. Best Jeanist was waiting, and I needed to focus. Whatever reason Mirko had for being here, I had a job to do. With one last glance over my shoulder, I headed inside, ready for whatever was next.
_______
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A few days later, the day of the internship arrived. I packed my suitcase carefully, double-checking that I had everything I needed. Best Jeanist’s agency wasn’t too far from home—about an hour and a half by train—but I wouldn’t have the luxury of returning anytime soon. This would be my home for the next several days, and while I wasn’t sure what to expect, I felt ready for whatever came my way.
When I arrived, the agency’s atmosphere struck me immediately. It was different from my father’s agency in every possible way. There was no imposing grandeur, no overwhelming sense of authority. Best Jeanist’s agency was quiet, controlled, and precise. Everyone moved with a clear sense of purpose, like they were part of a well-oiled machine, each piece functioning perfectly within the whole.
The sidekick who greeted me at the entrance mirrored that same calm professionalism. “Y/N Todoroki? Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.”
I nodded politely, my eyes wandering as I followed him through the sleek hallways. “This place is… different,” I said, more to myself than to him.
The sidekick glanced over his shoulder with a slight smile. “Best Jeanist believes in control in all things. That extends to how we operate here. You’ll find that everything has its place.”
There was something about the way the agency functioned that immediately put me at ease—like the tension that usually coiled in my chest had loosened just a little. It felt… organized, like there wasn’t room for chaos here.
Finally, we stopped outside a set of large doors. “Best Jeanist is expecting you,” the sidekick said, gesturing toward the doors.
I reached for the handle, but before I could turn it, the doors swung open. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed and scowling as usual, was none other than Katsuki Bakugo.
“What the hell are you doing here, Frostburn?” Katsuki’s voice was sharp as ever, his crimson eyes narrowing at me.
I blinked in shock, momentarily frozen. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”
Katsuki snorted, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Dumbass, this is my internship.”
I stood there for a second, trying to process. Of all the places he could’ve ended up, Bakugo interning with Best Jeanist seemed… out of character. He was all about explosive displays of power, always showing off—this quiet, methodical agency didn’t seem like his style at all.
“You? Here? With Best Jeanist?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my voice.
“Yeah, what of it?” Katsuki’s eyes flashed as his scowl deepened. “You think just ‘cause I blow shit up, I can’t handle this?”
“No,” I quickly backtracked, still thrown off by the revelation. “I just… didn’t expect it.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped aside, letting me into the room. “Tch. Don’t think you’re special just ‘cause you’re here, Todoroki. This ain’t your territory.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say it was.”
Before either of us could fire off another round of retorts, a voice cut through the tension.
“Welcome,” came the calm, measured voice of Best Jeanist. He stood tall, hands clasped in front of him, his posture as perfect as always. “I trust Bakugo has given you his own version of a greeting.”
Katsuki scoffed but kept his mouth shut, which I imagined was as respectful as he was going to get.
I smiled faintly. “I think I’m getting used to his brand of hospitality.”
Best Jeanist’s eyes settled on me, his calm gaze unwavering. “Good. You’ll find that control and discipline are the foundations of this agency. It’s not only about mastering your quirk but refining your mind and body as one. Here, there is no rushing—no shortcuts. Everything must be done with precision.”
I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. This wasn’t just about fighting or training—it was about mastering every aspect of yourself as a hero.
“We’ll begin with something simple,” Best Jeanist continued, glancing briefly at Katsuki. “You’ll both be patrolling with me today. While observing, I expect complete focus. Instructions must be followed precisely, without deviation. Understood?”
Katsuki’s jaw tightened, clearly struggling not to bristle at the word ‘restraint,’ but he nodded, his eyes steely. I nodded too, determined to take this internship seriously.
I wasn’t new to patrolling, but this would be different. Back when I was a pro hero, I’d done mostly night patrols—sometimes with Hawks, sometimes on my own. But those were usually quiet nights, filled with criminals that were easy too freeze, when they weren’t paying attention. Also with Hawks as mentor I was good in combat and not a match for most of the night criminals.
“Good,” Best Jeanist said, his tone final. “There is much to be learned in the art of restraint. Remember, control is the ultimate form of strength. I expect both of you to demonstrate that over the coming days. Now suit up.”
With that, he turned back to his work, leaving Katsuki and me standing in the room. Katsuki shot me a glare before heading out. “Don’t get in my way.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re the one who should be worried about that.”
Afterward, the sidekick led us to the guest rooms. The agency was equipped with sleeping quarters for interns and sidekicks, simple but functional. My room was next to Katsuki’s, each with a bed, a desk, and a small bathroom with a shower. Practical, but nothing flashy.
“Tch. There could’ve been at least a TV or something.” Katsuki muttered.
After unpacking quickly, I slipped into my old pro hero costume. It was sleek, black with lilac lines running along the sides, designed specifically to resist both fire and ice. The material hugged my body perfectly, almost like a second skin. Practical and protective, it was meant for combat—no unnecessary frills. I adjusted the collar, glancing at myself in the mirror.
When I stepped out of my room, I wasn’t prepared for the sight of Katsuki standing there, already suited up in his own hero gear. His sleeveless black top emphasized his muscular frame, the grenades strapped to his wrists only adding to his usual aggressive look. His muscles flexed slightly as he adjusted his gauntlets.
I felt my cheeks flush before I could stop it. Damn, he’s… built.
Katsuki’s sharp eyes zeroed in on me immediately. “What’s with your face, Frostburn?” His tone was accusing, as if he’d caught me doing something wrong.
I quickly looked away, focusing on literally anything else. “Nothing,” I muttered, praying he wouldn’t push it further.
“Tch. Whatever,” he muttered back, brushing it off.
________
The rest of the day was spent on patrol, but it wasn’t anything like what I expected. Best Jeanist had a completely different approach to hero work compared to what I was used to. I had done plenty of night patrols before, but those were mostly quiet evenings, with minor incidents or criminals. Best Jeanist? He noticed everything—no detail was too small. He didn’t just deal with crime; he managed the everyday chaos of the city with calm precision.
For Katsuki, it was clearly a struggle. He had never really done patrols before. His focus was always on the big fights, the dramatic moments where he could unleash his power. But Best Jeanist was different—he resolved things before they even became a problem. No explosions, no showing off. Just quiet control.
I could feel Katsuki’s frustration simmering under the surface with every minor incident we handled. There was no chaos to dive into, no enemies to crush—just small tasks that required patience. Directing traffic after a minor accident, helping civilians… nothing that satisfied his need for action.
“This is a joke,” Katsuki growled at one point, though loud enough for me to hear. “We should be out there handling the real stuff, not playing traffic cop.”
I shot him a look. “Not everything has to explode for it to matter, Bakugo.”
He glared at me, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Tch. What do you know? You’re used to being wrapped up in your family’s drama.”
That stung, and I felt the heat rising in my chest. “At least I’m not trying to bulldoze through everything like an idiot.”
Before either of us could say anything else, Best Jeanist’s calm voice cut through the tension.
“Enough.”
There was no anger in his tone, just quiet authority. Both of us immediately quieted down.
“Hero work isn’t about showing off or proving yourself through force,” Jeanist continued, his sharp eyes moving between the two of us. “It’s about control. Patience. Knowing when to act, and when to hold back. You both have power, but without control, that power is useless.”
Katsuki’s jaw clenched, but he stayed quiet. I could tell Jeanist’s words hit home for him, even if his pride wouldn’t let him admit it. And for me, the reminder about control was a humbling one. That’s why I was here, after all—to learn control.
The rest of the patrol went on in tense silence. Katsuki and I didn’t exchange any more words, but the glares were still there. Every so often, I could feel his eyes on me, burning with unspoken frustration. But I wasn’t going to back down just because Bakugo couldn’t handle a little discipline.
By the time we returned to the agency, I was exhausted—mentally more than physically. Best Jeanist had handled everything with such calm control that it made me feel even more aware of my own lack of it. Where my father used power to demand control, Jeanist commanded it effortlessly.
“This will be a long week with those two,” I heard Jeanist murmur under his breath, though it was more to himself than anyone else.
Katsuki didn’t seem to catch it, but I did. I almost smirked. Best Jeanist had no idea.
Back at the agency, Jeanist gave us a nod. “That’s all for today. Rest well, and be prepared for more tomorrow.”
_________
After the long patrol, I was mentally and physically exhausted. Best Jeanist had a way of making even the smallest tasks feel important, and while it was impressive, it also left me feeling drained. I took a long shower, letting the hot water ease the tension in my muscles. Wrapped in my pink pajamas with white stripes, I crawled into bed, hoping sleep would come quickly.
But instead of rest, my mind kept spinning. The day’s events, the relentless discipline, and my own past crept into my thoughts. Eventually, I must’ve fallen asleep, but it didn’t last long. My dreams were filled with the same familiar nightmares: the forest, Toya, the Sports Festival… and the Ice Dragon. It all blurred together, a chaotic mix of emotions and memories. I must have been making noises again because before I knew it, there was a sharp knock on my door.
Katsuki’s POV:
After the day’s patrol, I hit my bed with the intention of crashing hard. Best Jeanist’s methodical, slow-paced approach was driving me up a wall. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle it—it was just so damn boring. No action, no explosions, nothing to blow up. But whatever, I could take it. Not like I hadn’t done harder shit before.
I pulled the covers over my head, figuring I’d be out within minutes. But then, I started hearing it. Quiet at first, but noticeable. There were noises coming from the room next to mine—Y/N’s room.
I ignored it for a while, telling myself it was probably nothing. But then it got louder. She was talking or… mumbling? It was weird. Annoying as hell too. What the hell was she doing over there? Sleep-talking?
I tried to bury my face in the pillow, but then it turned into these half-screams. My eyes snapped open. Seriously? I didn’t need this crap. I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow, trying to block out the sounds.
It didn’t help. They just got louder, like she was fighting someone in her sleep. I clenched my jaw, feeling irritation bubble up inside me. Great. Of course she had to be next door, ruining my night.
“Damn it,” I muttered, throwing off my blanket and stomping over to her room. I pounded on the door, fully ready to rip into her if she didn’t shut it.
After a minute, she opened the door, looking completely out of it. And just like that, I froze.
She stood there in her light pink pajamas, her hair a total mess, about to fall out of that bun. Her face was flushed from sleep, eyes half-lidded, looking… peaceful, but vulnerable in a way I’d never seen her before.
I blinked. No. Snap out of it. What the hell are you thinking?
“Stop,” I muttered, shaking my head like an idiot. “Can you finally shut the hell up? I’m trying to sleep, and some people take this internship seriously, so shut it!”
Y/N’s POV:
Katsuki’s sudden demand caught me off guard, but more than that, I was confused. I’d been asleep for hours. Then it hit me. The nightmares. I’d been making noise, maybe even talking in my sleep—something I’d been dealing with for years, but never thought would bother anyone else.
“I must’ve had a nightmare. Sorry,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I didn’t want to look him in the eyes, so I just shut the door in his face, not knowing what else to say.
Katsuki’s POV:
She shut the door. Just like that. I stood there for a second, staring at the wood like an idiot. Great. I wanted to yell at her, and now I felt… I don’t know. Bad? Nah, that wasn’t it.
But damn it, why’d she look like that? So… different. I never really paid attention to how she looked, but seeing her all messed up like that, sleepy, not trying to keep up her usual guard… she looked beautiful. Yeah, beautiful. Crap.
“Damn it,” I muttered again, running a hand through my hair as I stormed back to my room.
I flopped back onto the bed, but sleep wasn’t happening. Not now. My mind was stuck on her.
I turned over in bed, trying to block out the image of her in those damn pajamas. I couldn’t stand it. I tried to ignore it, but then my mind wandered back to the patrol.
She didn’t act scared during the day. Hell, she held her own better than most people, even when I could see she was annoyed too. And now, she was alone, dealing with her nightmares.
Suddenly, I knew what her dreams were about. She told me about her brother, Toya.
Of course, it’s about Toya. She wouldn’t shut up about that back when she told me her story. Dead brother, out-of-control quirk—it all comes back to that.
I wasn’t supposed to care.
But I did.
Shit. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I got up again, grabbed my shirt, and stomped over to her door. This time, I wasn’t just pissed—I was annoyed at myself for caring.
Y/N’s POV:
After shutting the door on Katsuki, I leaned back against it, staring into the darkness of my room. My thoughts were racing again. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in so long. And now, knowing I’d kept Katsuki awake with my nightmares? I felt guilty.
At home, nightmares were nothing new to me. I had them constantly, ever since I was young. My brother Toya’s death, the way my family fell apart afterward, and the terrifying loss of control over my own quirk haunted me at night. Every time I thought I could escape it, the dreams would drag me right back into the fire.
Fuyumi had tried to help before. She would hear me at night and come into my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, asking if I wanted to talk about it. But I never did. I’d always shrug her off, insisting that I could handle it. She meant well, but no amount of talking was going to change what happened.
After a while, everyone at home just got used to it. My room was at the far end of the house, behind Toya’s old room, so my nightmares didn’t bother anyone as much. And if they did, they pretended not to hear. They minded their own business. That’s what the Todoroki family had always done—minded their own business.
I pulled out my laptop to keep myself awake, I turned on Gossip Girl, my new favorite way to escape from reality. The girls in Class 1-A had talked about it a lot, and Mina and I watched some episodes together. It made me feel like a normal teenage girl, away from the nightmares and the chaos of being a Todoroki.
I was about an hour into the show when I heard another knock. Katsuki. Again.
“Sorry, am I too loud again?” I opened the door, already apologizing. “I’ll turn it off, I just tried to keep—”
“Yourself awake so I can sleep,” Katsuki finished for me, pushing past me and walking into my room. “Really?” he said, looking at my laptop. “This is what you’re watching?”
I blinked, surprised that he had just walked in like it was no big deal. “It makes me feel normal,” I said, then immediately regretted saying it. Why did I say that?
He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “You’re nothing but normal, Frostburn,” he said, laying down on my bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I smirked. “What, you wanna join?”
He didn’t answer right away, just settled into my bed, placing the laptop on his stomach. “I can only sleep if something’s in the background,” he muttered.
I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Then why did you stop me from my nightmares earlier? You could’ve listened to that.”
Katsuki hesitated, looking away for a moment before replying. “You screamed. A lot. Loud enough to wake up half the building.”
I winced, embarrassed. “I’m… sorry.”
Katsuki shrugged, but I could tell he wasn’t used to dealing with this kind of thing either. He didn’t like people, and this situation was probably overwhelming for him too. But instead of going back to his room, he stayed.
“Come here, idiot,” he said, motioning for me to join him. “I can’t sleep without noise, and you can’t sleep in general. So if you don’t tell anyone, we’ll not sleep together.”
Katsuki’s POV:
I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing. This wasn’t me. I didn’t do this whole “comforting people” crap. But she looked at me, and for a second, I saw it again—that vulnerability she tried to hide. And I couldn’t just walk away.
“Tch, what am I even doing,” I muttered under my breath as she slid into the bed next to me.
I didn’t say anything as she lay there next to me, explaining whatever the hell was going on with the show. Something about rich kids and drama I didn’t give a damn about. But for some reason, the sound of her voice, and the quiet hum of the laptop, was enough to pull me into sleep faster than I thought.
Before I knew it, I was out. Her soft voice, the low noise of the show—it was weirdly comforting. Something I wasn’t used to. But… I didn’t mind.
Y/N’s POV:
As I lay there, I smiled softly. Katsuki Bakugo, of all people, offering to stay and help. I slid into the bed next to him, making myself comfortable.
As I lay there, I started explaining the characters of Gossip Girl to him, though it wasn’t long before I noticed his breathing had slowed, his eyes fluttering closed. He didn’t “not sleep” for long.
Within minutes, he was out. Little snores escaped him, and I couldn’t help but smile. His black shirt with the skull on it and his messy, fluffy hair… he looked different like this. More… real.
Turning off the laptop, I put it away quietly. I tapped Katsuki a few times to make sure he was really asleep. When I was sure he was, I carefully leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.
For the first time in a long time, I fell asleep without any nightmares.
______________
Amethyst. - Masterlist: click here
______________
Shoto and I stepped back into the ballroom, leaving the cool night air behind. The steady noise of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter filled the space. Shoto’s eyes scanned the room in his usual quiet, observant way.
I followed his gaze to where Katsuki stood, deep in conversation with a group of pro-heroes. His posture was tense, but focused. It was clear he wasn’t here to socialize—he was here to figure out exactly where he wanted to intern. His intensity showed, but that was Katsuki. He didn’t do anything halfway.
“He’s not here to chat,” Shoto murmured, more to himself than to me. “Typical Bakugo.”
I nodded. Katsuki wasn’t the type to waste time, especially not when it came to something as important as his future as a hero. He wasn’t about to sit around and make small talk—he wanted results, and he wanted them now. That intensity was one of the things that made him so dangerous.
Shoto’s eyes shifted across the room, landing on Fumikage and Tenya, who had just arrived with a few students from other schools. They were mingling with the pros, each trying to make their own connections, to carve out their own path in the hero world. I could see the gears turning in Shoto’s mind. He might not say it, but I knew he was thinking the same thing I was: everyone here had a plan, a direction.
Everyone but us.
The good news was, our father, Endeavor stood surrounded by high-ranking pros. His voice boomed as he spoke, his large frame casting a shadow over the group. He hadn’t looked our way yet, which was a relief. No need for a forced family moment tonight.
“You should go talk to some of the pros,” Shoto said quietly, glancing over at me. His tone was neutral, but there was a softness in his eyes. “There’s time, but… you should decide soon.”
I bit my lip, glancing around the room again. “Yeah, I know.”
He gave me a small nod and didn’t push further, letting me take my time. Still, he was right—if I didn’t start thinking about my internship now, I’d get left behind.
I hesitated for a second before forcing myself to move. But as I walked through the room, I could feel the weight of the stares around me. The pros I didn’t know were whispering, casting sideways glances in my direction. The ones I did know avoided me, probably thinking I was too complicated or dangerous to be their intern.
By the time I reached the bar, I wasn’t in the mood for any more fake smiles or half-hearted conversations.
“Hey, Dove.”
I turned at the sound of the familiar voice, finding Hawks leaning casually on the bar next to me. His easy grin and relaxed posture were as charming as ever, but I could see the sharpness in his eyes, always calculating, always watching. Fumikage, clearly eager to be Hawks’ intern, gave me a polite nod before stepping away, probably to mingle.
“Lookin’ a little tense there,” he teased, though his tone had a hint of concern. “Big night getting to you?”
I shrugged, trying to smile back. “Just… figuring things out.”
Hawks took a sip from his drink, his gaze flicking around the room before settling back on me. “Yeah, well, this place isn’t exactly full of saints. Most of ‘em are just here to stir up gossip.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Tell me about it.”
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You know who’s not? Best Jeanist. Take a look.”
I followed his gaze and saw the hero standing near the far wall, tall and poised, his presence commanding without being overbearing. He wasn’t talking or even watching me. He just stood there, calm and composed, a silent observer. No whispers, no judgment.
Hawks smirked, his tone light but thoughtful. “I like him. Not just because he’s not part of the rumor mill,” Hawks tilted his head toward him. “he all about control, order. Something you could probably use a little more of.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to smile. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“C’mon,” Hawks teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You’ve got power, Dove, but control? That’s what’s gonna take you to the next level. And Jeanist? He’s the master of that.”
I hesitated for a second, thinking about it. Hawks wasn’t wrong. Control was exactly what I needed—over my quirk, over my emotions. Best Jeanist’s discipline could be the key to mastering both the flames I kept hidden and the Ice Dragon. I could refine them, make them mine.
“You think he’d take me on?” I asked.
Hawks grinned. “I think he’d be thrilled. I’ll introduce you.”
I followed him through the crowd, weaving between groups of pros and students alike. My stomach knotted a little. Best Jeanist was one of the top heroes for a reason—he wasn’t just skilled; he was precise, methodical, everything I sometimes struggled to be. But Hawks seemed confident as he walked over, his grin still in place.
“Jeanist, always a pleasure,” Hawks greeted, flashing his signature smirk.
Best Jeanist turned toward us, his posture impeccable, standing with his hands behind his back. His sharp eyes swept over Hawks before landing on me. It was the kind of gaze that seemed to assess you in a second, as if he could already tell what kind of hero you were just by looking.
“Hawks,” he replied, his voice steady and calm. “And you must be Y/N Todoroki.”
I straightened up slightly, nodding. “Yes, sir.”
Hawks smirked. “I was just telling her she could learn a thing or two from you.”
Best Jeanist’s eyes stayed on me, as if he were searching for something. “I have heard about your abilities. You show great promise, but promise is merely the beginning. Power alone is
dangerous without control. I have seen that your potential is vast, but potential requires discipline to become something more.”
I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. He wasn’t just commenting on my quirk—he was talking about the responsibility that came with it, something I’d been trying to figure out for a long time. The unpredictability of my flames, the raw power of the Ice Dragon… it all felt like something I could only partially harness.
Hawks, of course, broke the tension with a light chuckle. “See? Told you he was no-nonsense. Perfect for you.”
Best Jeanist’s gaze didn’t waver. “If you are interested in learning control, I am open to taking you on as an intern. However, this will not be easy. It will require not only commitment but the willingness to refine every aspect of yourself as a hero.”
I blinked, a little surprised by the direct offer. “You’d really take me on?”
Best Jeanist nodded once. “I believe you have the capability. But capability is not enough. Dedication and focus will determine how far you can go. If you are ready to push yourself, then I will guide you.”
I glanced at Hawks, who gave me an encouraging nod. “I’m ready,” I said firmly, meeting Best Jeanist’s eyes.
“Very well,” he replied, his tone final but approving. “You should pack your suitcase tomorrow then.”
With that, he gave me a nod and turned back toward the other pros he had been quietly observing. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Hawks gave me a light pat on the shoulder, his grin wider than ever. “See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
I smiled at him, grateful. “Thanks for the introduction.”
He waved it off with a grin. “No problem, Dove. You know me, I can’t help it, seeing a Dove in need.” He smirked.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, feeling both relieved and a little apprehensive. Best Jeanist wasn’t going to be easy, but that was exactly what I needed right now—someone who could help me control the parts of my power that I’d been holding back. Someone who could push me to the next level.
Hawks tilted his head, motioning toward the bar. “You want a drink or something? Or maybe I should leave you to your thoughts. Big decision and all.”
I chuckled softly. “I think I need a minute to process.”
He grinned again. “Alright, Dove. I’ll catch you later.”
As Hawks disappeared into the crowd, I let myself take in the room again. Katsuki was still talking to the pros, probably negotiating his own internship. Shoto was near the back, speaking quietly to Fumikage and Tenya. And Endeavor… well, he was still occupied, thankfully.
But I had made my decision. Best Jeanist had offered me a chance, and I wasn’t going to waste it.
___________
As the night wore on and the crowd in the ballroom began to thin out, I found myself standing near the exit, lost in thought. Best Jeanist’s offer weighed on me, but it also felt like a small victory.
Shoto appeared beside me quietly, as he often did, his expression calm but guarded. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and I knew he had noticed my conversation with Best Jeanist. We hadn’t spoken much tonight—like most nights—but he always had a way of being around without needing to say much.
“You talked to him, the new Number 3.” he stated, his voice neutral.
I nodded, feeling the weight of everything I’d kept bottled up. “Yeah. I think I’ve made my choice.”
Shoto didn’t respond right away. His gaze drifted to where Endeavor still stood, commanding the room as he always did. After a long pause, he spoke again. “I’ve made my choice too.”
I frowned slightly, curious but cautious. “Where?”
His eyes flicked to mine, and for a split second, I thought I saw hesitation. But then he spoke with that usual calmness, the same tone that never quite gave anything away. “I’m going to intern with Endeavor.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. I blinked, caught off guard. Of all the pros he could’ve chosen, he picked him? “Are you serious?”
“I need to,” he said simply, as if that answered everything. His eyes remained on our father. “If I want to surpass him, I need to understand him.”
There was something distant in his tone—like this wasn’t a decision made out of emotion, but cold logic. And that was Shoto. He wasn’t doing this to reconcile or gain approval; he was doing it because it made sense. Still, I couldn’t shake the unease in my chest.
I hesitated, then blurted out the words that had been weighing on me for a while. “Shoto… I’m sorry.”
He finally turned his gaze fully toward me. “For what?”
I swallowed, forcing myself to continue. “For keeping secrets. About the Ice Dragon… about my flames.” It felt strange to say it out loud, but I knew I had to. “You’ve always been honest with your powers, and I wasn’t. I don’t want to keep holding things back like that from you.”
His expression didn’t change much, but the silence between us spoke volumes. We weren’t close, and I didn’t expect him to forgive me or understand right away. But I needed to take control of my actions, starting now
“You had your reasons,” Shoto said after a long pause, his voice as measured as always. “we all have things we need to figure out.”
I couldn’t tell if that was his way of offering some form of understanding, but it was the closest thing to an acknowledgment that I’d get from him. Still, his calm demeanor left little room for real connection.
“I didn’t see you choosing him,” I said, changing the subject, but I kept my voice soft. “Interning with Endeavor.”
His eyes flickered again, almost as if he’d expected me to question it. “Neither did I.” A pause. “But it’s what I need to do.”
I wanted to ask if he was sure—if he could handle working under someone who had been so destructive in our lives—but I kept my mouth shut. Shoto wasn’t the kind of person who made decisions lightly, and questioning him wouldn’t change anything. This was his path, just as mine would be with Best Jeanist.
“I guess we both have a long week ahead,” I said quietly, offering him a small nod.
Shoto nodded in return. “We do.”
There was no warmth in his voice, but there wasn’t coldness either—just a quiet understanding that things were about to change for both of us. We weren’t going to walk the same path, and that was fine. We had both made our choices.
As we stood there, the ballroom noise faded into the background. The distance between us remained, but maybe—just maybe—there was a small bridge forming between our individual struggles and the decisions we had to face. Neither of us knew what the next week would bring, but we were ready for it, in our own ways.
The ballroom was filled with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. My hand rested on Shoto’s arm, his steady presence guiding me through the crowd, but my attention was split. Katsuki stood close on my other side, his scowl as sharp as ever, and although he hadn’t said it aloud, I could tell he wasn’t planning on letting me out of his sight tonight.
The whispers started the moment we entered.
“That’s them, right? The children of Endevour?”
“I heard she used to be the youngest pro-hero.”
“And he is the one who actually should be a Hero, not her with that dangerous monster.”
“And this is the guy with the short temper, he really shouldn’t be a Hero!”
I clenched my jaw but tried to keep my face neutral. The comments weren’t new, but now they were tinged with something heavier—fear. The Ice Dragon had revealed more about me than I had ever intended, and now I could feel the weight of that knowledge following me.
Katsuki let out a low growl, his arms crossed over his chest. “These extras need to mind their damn business.”
I shot him a look, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy glaring at the other guests, daring anyone to step out of line.
On the other side, Shoto remained silent, his face impassive, but I could feel his tension. This wasn’t just another event for us. Tonight, we were here under the eyes of the pro-heroes, many of whom had been keeping tabs on Shoto and me long before the Sports Festival.
I was just trying to breathe when a flicker of red feathers caught my eye. My heart skipped a beat as Hawks made his way through the crowd, his vermillion wings folding neatly behind him, his usual easy grin in place.
I hadn’t expected to see him. The last time we’d spoken, he’d warned me that there was a growing threat and that we wouldn’t be crossing paths for a while. Yet here he was, strolling through the ballroom as if nothing had happened.
“Looks like the star of the show is back,” Hawks teased as he approached, his voice low and playful. “Miss me, Dove?”
I shot him a sharp look, trying to push down the irritation bubbling in my chest. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Hawks. Thought you were laying low.”
Hawks shrugged, his smile never faltering. “Plans change. Besides, you know I can’t resist a good party. And how could I pass up the chance to see you again?”
Before I could respond, I felt Katsuki tense beside me, his scowl deepening. He crossed his arms tighter, standing between me and Hawks as if to block him out.
“Who’s this bird-brain?” Katsuki growled, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
Hawks chuckled, clearly amused. “Ah, Bakugo, right? Heard a lot about you. You’ve got quite the explosive reputation.”
Katsuki didn’t look impressed. “I asked who the hell you are.”
Hawks raised his hands in mock surrender, his wings twitching slightly behind him. “Easy there. I’m Hawks. An old friend of Y/N’s.”
Shoto, who had been watching the exchange quietly, glanced between me and Hawks with a curious look. “You’ve never mentioned him before.” Shoto said, his tone neutral but questioning.
I sighed, knowing where this was going. “We’ve worked together. Hawks was my mentor.”
Katsuki snorted, unimpressed. “He seems like trouble.”
Hawks grinned, clearly enjoying the situation. “Oh, I’m definitely trouble. But don’t worry, I’m on her side.”
I gave Hawks a look, silently telling him to ease up. Katsuki was already on edge, and the last thing I needed was for him to get into a confrontation with Hawks. “Be honest, Hawks,” I asked, my voice quieter. “Why are you really here?”
Hawks shrugged again, playing it cool. “I thought I’d check in, see how you’re holding up.” He paused, his golden eyes flicking between Shoto and Katsuki before landing on me again. “And maybe steal a dance while I’m at it.” He winked at me.
Both Shoto and Katsuki shot him disapproving looks, but I knew Hawks well enough to understand that he wasn’t just here for small talk. He wanted to tell me something, and he wasn’t going to do it with them around. After a moment of hesitation, I nodded.
“Fine,” I said, accepting Hawks’ outstretched hand. “Just one dance.”
__________
Hawks’ grin was as casual as ever, his hand resting lightly on my waist as we moved through the ballroom. To anyone watching, it seemed like nothing more than two Heroes sharing a dance, but I knew Hawks better. That smile of his always had more layers.
“So,” Hawks started, his voice low enough for only me to hear, “you’ve been wondering why I pushed you so hard at the Sports Festival, haven’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You think? The villains already had their eyes on me. Why make me stand out more?”
Hawks shrugged, his expression still light, but I could see the seriousness beneath it. “They’ve known who you are for a while now. But with your dad not exactly playing the family man, and me busy with my own missions, you can’t hide in Endeavor’s shadow anymore. You had to show them what you’ve got.”
I frowned, still not fully convinced. “So now I’m even more of a target?”
“Nah, you were already on their radar,” Hawks replied smoothly, giving me a twirl before pulling me back in. “The point wasn’t to make you a target—it was to remind them you’re not easy prey. You’ve been laying low since you went pro. That Ice Dragon? That was a wake-up call.”
I met his gaze, feeling the weight of it all. “And if they still come for me?”
Hawks chuckled, his familiar smirk returning. “Then you give ‘em hell. Simple as that.”
I smiled, glancing around the ballroom. “Easy for you to say. You’re always ten steps ahead of everyone.”
Hawks chuckled, leaning in slightly. “Perks of the job, but you’ve got a pretty solid backup plan.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
He nodded subtly in Katsuki’s direction, who was standing not too far off, arms crossed, watching us like a hawk. “That guy’s been watching your every move since the second he saw you. I don’t think he’s letting anyone get close without a fight.”
I followed his gaze, my lips twitching at the sight. “That’s just how he is. Always on edge. Not a big deal.”
Hawks shrugged with a knowing smile. “Yeah, but it works. I like how he’s got your back. Makes it easier for me to sneak off when I need to.”
I shot him a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re seriously comparing your spying to his?”
“Hey,” Hawks grinned, “the guy’s good at what he does. No guy would even try and talk to you when he is around.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Before I could say anything, a sharp voice cut through the moment.
“Alright, enough of this crap.”
I turned to see Katsuki storming toward us, his scowl darker than ever, eyes narrowed as he glared at Hawks. “What the hell are you two talking about?”
Hawks chuckled, stepping back and raising his hands in mock surrender, his wings giving a slight twitch. “Easy there, Bakugo. Just enjoying a dance with a friend. Nothing to get worked up about.”
Katsuki’s glare didn’t waver. “Yeah, well, it’s over now.”
Hawks shot me one last playful look, his grin softening. “Guess that’s my cue. We’ll catch up later, Dove.” He gave me a wink before smoothly disappearing into the crowd, leaving Katsuki standing there, fists clenched at his sides.
I could feel the tension radiating off of him as he turned to face me, his jaw tight. “What was that about?”
I raised an eyebrow, pretending not to understand. “Just a dance, Katsuki. What’s your problem?”
He scoffed, his arms crossing tightly over his chest as he glared off in the direction Hawks had gone. “You two looked pretty cozy for ‘just a dance.’”
I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my voice light. “You’re overreacting.”
He didn’t respond right away, but the tightness in his posture didn’t ease. Instead, he let out a low growl, his frustration spilling over as he turned on his heel. “I’m going outside.”
Without another word, he marched off toward the exit, and I stood there for a moment, watching him go. I could sense there was more behind his outburst than just annoyance with Hawks. I glanced at Shoto, who had been watching the whole exchange silently.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, excusing myself before following Katsuki outside.
_________
The night air was a welcome change from the heat of the ballroom, but I barely noticed it as I found Katsuki leaning against the railing, arms still crossed, his head tilted slightly toward the sky. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the frustration still simmering beneath the surface.
I approached carefully, not wanting to set him off again. “Katsuki…”
He didn’t look at me, his voice low and edged with something more than just anger. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it? You’ll always have secrets.”
I stopped in my tracks, taken aback by the accusation. “What are you talking about?”
Katsuki turned to face me, his eyes burning with that same frustration. “First, it’s all the stuff with your family, then you go and pull that Ice Dragon move, and now you’re all buddy-buddy with that damn bird. It’s like you’re always keeping something from the rest of us.”
I felt my chest tighten, but I kept my voice steady. “It’s not like that. Hawks just wanted to check in.”
Katsuki’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t say anything for a moment. His gaze flickered, just briefly, with something else—something he wasn’t saying. “You think I don’t see it?”
I crossed my arms, not wanting to give in to the tension that had built between us. “See what?”
His jaw clenched, and for a split second, I thought he was going to say something, but then he just shook his head, letting out a rough sigh. “Forget it.”
He turned back to the railing, leaning against it as he stared out into the night. I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. The frustration in his voice, the way he’d stormed out… it wasn’t just about Hawks. It was about more than that.
I stepped up beside him, the silence stretching between us, thick with unspoken words.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Katsuki,” I said quietly. “I know what I’m doing.”
Katsuki let out a snort, but there was no heat behind it. “Yeah, well, just don’t expect me to be at your hospital bed again while you mess around with that bird-brain.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Jealous?”
His head snapped toward me, his scowl returning in full force. “Tch. You wish.”
Katsuki took a deep breath, his frustration easing as he straightened up. “Whatever,” he muttered, pushing off the railing. “I’m not here to babysit you or watch you dance all night. I’ve got work to do.”
I nodded, watching as his eyes flicked toward the ballroom. “I need to talk to a few of those pro-heroes inside. Gotta figure out where I’m doing my internship.”
“Go ahead,” I said softly. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He gave me one last look, his gaze lingering as if he wasn’t entirely sure I was okay. But after a beat, he nodded roughly. “Don’t take too long.”
With that, he turned and headed back inside, the doors swinging shut behind him. I let out a slow breath, leaning against the railing as the night air cooled my skin. Hawks’ words kept spinning in my mind, mixing with everything else I’d been trying to juggle.
“That blond guy is definitely jealous.”
I blinked, turning toward the voice that came from the shadows. A figure stood near the edge of the balcony, half-hidden in the dark. He was dressed like one of the waiters, but something about him seemed a little too relaxed, a little too comfortable in the shadows.
I raised an eyebrow, trying to see his face, but the darkness kept most of his features hidden. “I don’t think so,” I said cautiously. “He doesn’t even like me.”
The man chuckled softly, the sound low and amused. “He sure looked ready to blow up at that bird-brain in there, if he would’ve danced just a minute longer with you.”
I shrugged, though his observation made me pause for a second. “That’s just how he is. Always running hot.”
“Protective, though,” the man noted casually, his voice still light. “In his own way.”
Something about the way he said it felt strange, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. I tilted my head, squinting into the shadows, but I still couldn’t get a clear look at him. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Just someone passing through,” he said, not giving much away. “Been watching for a bit.”
I frowned at that, but his tone didn’t carry any threat, just something… familiar. “Watching what?”
He chuckled again, this time with a little more warmth. “You. Saw your performance at the Sports Festival. That Ice Dragon? Not bad.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You were there?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied smoothly, still leaning comfortably against the wall. “You’ve come a long way.”
I stared at him, a strange sense of familiarity creeping over me, though I couldn’t pin it down. There was no menace in his voice, just something that felt… oddly supportive. But before I could respond, the door behind me opened.
“Y/N.”
I turned to see Shoto stepping outside, his expression calm but watchful as always.
“Are you alright? You’ve been out here for a while.”
I glanced back toward the shadows, ready to explain—but the figure was already gone. I blinked, my heart skipping as I scanned the dark corner where he had been standing just moments ago. He’d vanished, leaving nothing behind.
“I was… talking to someone,” I murmured, still looking toward the empty space.
Shoto glanced around, his brow furrowing slightly. “There’s no one here.”
I turned back to him, confusion settling in. “I… I swear, someone was just—”
Shoto’s eyes searched my face for a moment, but he didn’t push. “We should head back inside. It’s cold out here.”
I hesitated, still glancing back at the now-empty corner of the balcony, but there was no sign of the stranger. Whoever he was, he was gone.
“Yeah,” I finally said, turning to follow Shoto back inside. “Let’s go.”
Shoto walked beside me, silent as we passed through the doors and back into the warmth of the ballroom. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had just happened. The man’s voice echoed in my mind, his words lingering longer than they should have.
Watching… You’ve come a long way.
I didn’t know who he was, but something about him felt… familiar, like I should know. But for now, it was just another mystery in a sea of unanswered questions.
Amethyst. - Masterlist: click here
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I’m very sorry for how long it took me to get this Chapter out but sometimes life gets in my way. I’m really curious on how you feel about this chapter, please let me now in the comments and don’t forget to vote! <3
The UA Sports Festival was over, but its effects still lingered in the air like a heavy fog. As we returned to our normal routines, the atmosphere in Class 1-A was subdued. The usual energy and chatter had been replaced with quiet reflection. It felt like everyone was processing what had happened, myself included.
I walked down the hall, my thoughts a jumbled mess. The fight with Bakugo, the power of the Ice Dragon, and everything else still reverberated in my mind. I could feel the stares—some filled with fear, others with awe—following me wherever I went. The shift in how people saw me was unsettling. I had felt this before, back when I was still Amethyst, but now it was sharper, more tangible.
Some students kept their distance, the fear on their faces barely concealed. Others, mostly younger kids, looked at me with wide eyes, fascinated. I heard whispers about dragons, their excitement almost tangible. But the admiration felt hollow, contrasting sharply with the cold detachment I’d become used to.
And then there was Shoto. Since the festival, he seemed to hate me even more. He wouldn’t talk to me, whether at school or at home. I’d catch him glaring at me, but when I tried to approach him, he would turn away, colder than ever. Maybe nothing had changed at all—maybe the distance between us was always going to be there.
Mr. Aizawa’s voice cut through the quiet murmur of the classroom, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Listen up. Today, we’re deciding on your hero identities—your code names.”
The announcement stirred a bit of excitement among my classmates, breaking the tension. I could see the spark of anticipation in their eyes. Picking a hero name was a big deal, a step closer to becoming the heroes we all aspired to be.
“For most students, this isn’t something you need to worry about until your second or third year,” Mr. Aizawa continued, “but our class is different. With the Pro-Hero draft picks coming up, you need to decide now. Especially the top five from the Sports Festival. You’ll also be attending the Pro-Hero Ball this weekend. It’s a rare opportunity to mingle with pros and start considering where you want to intern.”
The mention of the ball made my heart skip a beat. It was a reminder of how high the stakes were now, how much attention was on us. I didn’t have to ask to know who the top five were, but when Mr. Aizawa announced the numbers, it still felt surreal.
The words washed over me, and my mind spun. Nearly two thousand invitations… from pros who had seen what I could do—and still wanted me?
As Mr. Aizawa continued, the room buzzed with excitement. My classmates began brainstorming their hero names, eager to choose their identities. Ms. Midnight had to give final approval, so one by one, my classmates proudly shared their names. Bakugo, of course, insisted on “King Explosion Murder,” despite the collective groans from the class.
But as the minutes passed, I just stared at my blank page. “Amethyst” lingered in my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to write it down. Amethyst was who I used to be—back when I was a pro-hero. But now? I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure who I was, or who I wanted to be.
Days passed, and while everyone else proudly sported their new hero names, I remained undecided. It was hard to explain, even to myself, why I struggled so much with this. Choosing a name felt like committing to an identity, to a future I wasn’t sure I was ready to embrace.
Denki noticed. He always did. A few days after the name exercise, he approached me during a break.
“Hey, Y/N,” he said, sliding up beside me with his usual grin. “Why haven’t you picked a hero name yet?”
I hesitated, unsure how to put the confusion inside me into words. “I just… I don’t know who I want to be,” I finally admitted, my voice quieter than I intended.
Denki’s grin faded into something more serious. I wasn’t used to seeing that side of him. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now, you know. But… you were Amethyst before, right? Why not keep it?”
“I’m not sure if that name fits me anymore,” I said, my voice strained. “Amethyst was who I was, but now… I don’t know.”
Before Denki could respond, I heard footsteps behind us. I turned to see Shoto, his eyes locked on me. He had overheard the conversation. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but he just turned and walked away, his expression unreadable. My heart sank as I watched him go.
_________
Later that evening at home, I stayed in my room, trying to drown out the world with music. The day had been heavy, and I needed to escape. But then there was a knock at my door—unexpected and confusing. No one knocked on my door, least of all Shoto.
I opened the door, shocked to see him standing there. The last time Shoto had come into my room, he was just a little boy, and we were still close. Now… things were so different.
“You finally want to talk?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“This was a mistake,” Shoto muttered, already turning to leave.
But I wasn’t going to let him go that easily. I stepped forward and grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Wait.”
He paused, tense but didn’t pull away.
“Why?” His voice was quieter now, hesitant. “Why can you use your fire so well, but you chose not to for so many years? And why are your flames purple?”
His questions caught me off guard. For the first time in a long time, I saw genuine curiosity in his eyes—a need to understand. Maybe this was his way of reaching out, trying to mend the gap between us.
I took a deep breath, my mind racing. “While you were being trained by Father, I was trained by Toya.” I kept it vague; the whole truth was too painful, too heavy to share. But it was enough for now. Shoto’s expression softened, just slightly, as he accepted my answer.
“I wanted to talk to you about the Pro-Hero Ball,” Shoto said, his voice steadier now. “Father wants us to go as a family, wearing something that probably fits well to him. But… if you want, we can go without him. We can wear something that fits us.”
I blinked, surprised by his offer. It was the first time Shoto had ever suggested defying Father. Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Before he left, Shoto turned to me again, his eyes searching mine. “Keep your hero name,” he said quietly. “It fits your flames. And… you get to decide who you want to be.”
Then he was gone, leaving me standing in the doorway, his words echoing in my mind. For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe I didn’t need to find a new name. Maybe Amethyst was still a part of me, a part I wasn’t ready to let go of.
__________
Shoto had already told Fuyumi about our plan. We weren’t going to attend the Pro-Hero Ball with Father. Instead, we’d go on our own terms, wearing something that represented who we were, not just as Endeavor’s children. To my surprise, Fuyumi loved the idea.
She was so excited that she insisted on helping me find the perfect dress. After school on Friday, she picked me up, nearly bouncing in the driver’s seat as we headed to the mall.
“I’m telling you, Y/N, you’re going to love this!” she said, practically dragging me inside.
I gave her a skeptical look as we entered. “I’ve never really been much for dresses,” I muttered, feeling out of place under the bright fluorescent lights. I was used to patrolling this mall at night, not browsing for ballgowns in the daylight.
Fuyumi waved me off. “You’ll find something, trust me. And when you do, you’re going to knock their socks off. Especially Shoto’s.”
“Shoto doesn’t care about this stuff,” I said with a sigh as we wandered through the first store. “And I don’t either.”
Fuyumi turned to me, hands on her hips. “It’s not about them. It’s about you. It’s about showing up as you. This ball isn’t just about looking good; it’s about showing everyone who you really are outside of Father’s shadow.”
That hit me harder than I expected, and I didn’t know how to respond. So I just nodded, letting her guide me from store to store.
We tried on what felt like hundreds of dresses, each one rejected with a shake of Fuyumi’s head. I wasn’t used to all this attention, and by the fifth store, I was ready to call it quits.
You’ve got to try this one, Y/N,” Fuyumi urged, holding up the ice blue dress with shimmering crystals.
I hesitated at the sight of it. It was beautiful, sure, but it felt so far from who I thought I was. I wasn’t used to standing out like this, not outside of battle. Still, Fuyumi’s excitement was contagious.
“Fine,” I mumbled, taking the dress.
When I stepped out of the dressing room, Fuyumi’s reaction was immediate. “Oh my god… Y/N, you look incredible.”
I glanced at the mirror, barely recognizing myself. For the first time in a long time, I felt… like myself, and yet… not quite. The reflection felt like a stranger. Was this who I really was now?
_________
The day of the ball arrived faster than I had expected. Fuyumi came over early to help me get ready. She styled my hair with careful precision, humming softly to herself as she worked. I shifted awkwardly in my seat, unused to this kind of pampering.
“You don’t have to do all this,” I muttered, glancing at the elaborate setup she had brought with her—curling irons, hair pins, makeup.
“Nonsense!” she said, waving me off. “This is your night. You deserve to look and feel your best. Besides, it’s not every day my little sister gets all dolled up.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling a little. “You know I’m not great with… compliments.”
Fuyumi paused, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “I know. But you should start getting used to them, Y/N. You’re amazing, and it’s okay to let people see that.”
Her words caught me off guard, and I didn’t know how to respond, so I just stayed quiet, letting her work her magic.
Meanwhile, Natsuo was upstairs helping Shoto with his tie. I could hear Shoto’s muffled protests as Natsuo teased him about not knowing how to tie it properly.
“You could just wear a clip-on, you know,” Natsuo was saying, laughter in his voice.
“Shut up, Natsuo,” Shoto grumbled, but I could hear the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.
By the time I was ready, Fuyumi stepped back, her eyes misting up as she took in the final result. “You look… beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
I shifted uncomfortably, unused to such open affection. “Uh, thanks,” I mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.
She smiled and helped me down the stairs. Shoto and Natsuo were waiting at the bottom, deep in conversation. They didn’t notice us until Fuyumi cleared her throat.
Natsuo looked up first, his jaw dropping. “Y/N… wow. You look… wow.”
Shoto’s eyes widened slightly when he looked up. “You look… nice,” he said awkwardly, trying to form a compliment.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said, smiling a little at his awkwardness.
Fuyumi drove us to the venue, her hands gripping the steering wheel with excitement. “I can’t wait for everyone to see you two. You’re going to make a statement—together.”
As we pulled up to the venue, Fuyumi turned to Shoto, raising an eyebrow. “Shoto, help your sister out of the car. That dress isn’t exactly easy to move in.”
Shoto rolled his eyes but reluctantly got out of the car. Fuyumi and I both assumed he wouldn’t actually help, so when he walked around the car and opened my door, we were surprised.
“Here,” he said, offering his hand.
I hesitated for a second before taking it, allowing him to help me out of the car. The fabric of the dress made moving tricky, and I appreciated the unexpected gesture.
“For tonight—peace,” Shoto said quietly, placing my hand on his arm as we prepared to enter the ballroom.
I smirked slightly. “Peace.”
________
The moment we stepped through the grand doors of the ballroom, I could feel the shift in the air. Eyes turned towards us, whispers spreading like wildfire. The entire room seemed to pause as people took in our presence.
“That must be Endeavor’s kids.”
“Look, it’s Amethyst… I heard she’s not a pro-hero anymore. Probably because of that dangerous quirk. Did you see her at the Festival?!”
The weight of their stares and the whispers made my stomach churn. My grip on Shoto’s arm tightened as I fought to keep my composure. I glanced at him, hoping he hadn’t noticed how tense I was, but of course, he did.
“You’re fine,” Shoto said quietly, his voice steady, meant to reassure. “Just ignore them.”
I nodded, trying to take comfort in his words, but the tension in the room was suffocating. And then, just as I thought I might break under the pressure, I felt someone take my free hand.
I looked to my left, my eyes widening in shock. Katsuki Bakugo was standing beside me, his expression fierce, as always.
“Katsuki…?” I whispered, confused.
He didn’t look at me, his eyes scanning the room as if daring anyone to say something. “You’re shaking, Frostburn,” he muttered, his grip firm. “Get a grip.”
__________________
This is the dress I imagined Y/N to wear that evening. Let me know what you think about this Part and the Story so far, I'm always happy to read your comments! <3
The moment I stepped into the arena with Fuyumi, my breath caught. The stadium had been mostly repaired, but the cracks and shards of ice from my Ice Dragon still clung stubbornly to the walls and floor, melting slowly under the afternoon sun. Burn marks marred the ground where my flames had erupted, scarring the place permanently.
For the first time since Toya… I really saw it—the destruction. The uncontrollable force that surged through me. The same power that…
A cold shiver ran down my spine. My hands twitched as if the flames might roar to life again at any second. My heartbeat quickened, pounding in my chest like a warning.
Fuyumi must have noticed my silence. She placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “I know it looks bad,” she said, her voice gentle. “But you had control, Y/N. You kept the ice where you wanted it. And your flames? They didn’t harm anyone. They just went into the sky. You did well.”
I shook my head, my gaze locked on the frozen remnants of my power. “But… what if I hadn’t?”
Fuyumi sighed softly, squeezing my shoulder. “What ifs won’t help you. You’ve got more control than you think.”
Her words settled over me like a blanket, but the knot in my stomach didn’t ease. Control? I wasn’t so sure. I could still feel it—the heat burning in my chest, the rush of power, the danger of letting it spill over again. But I pushed those thoughts down. Shoto’s match was about to start.
We took our seats as the crowd roared, anticipation thick in the air. Shoto and Bakugo stepped into the ring, and despite the noise around me, everything felt distant, like I was watching through a fog. My mind was still tangled up in the Ice Dragon.
But then I looked at Bakugo. His usual scowl was locked in place, but there was something sharper in his eyes—focused, deadly. When my gaze shifted to Shoto, I saw it too: calm, but colder than usual. This wasn’t just about the match.
This was personal.
__________
“Begin!” Present Mic’s voice boomed through the stadium, and the crowd roared as Shoto immediately sent a massive wall of ice toward Bakugo.
Bakugo scoffed, launching himself into the air with a burst from his hands. “You think that weak-ass ice is gonna stop me, Icy-Hot?!”
He shot down like a missile, explosions cracking through the air, aiming for Shoto’s head. But Shoto was faster. He raised another ice barrier just in time, the force of Bakugo’s blast cracking the surface but not shattering it.
Bakugo snarled, jumping back to the ground, frustration flashing in his eyes. “Damn it… you’re faster than her.”
It hit me then. He thought Shoto’s ice would be like mine. He’d trained with me, fought alongside me—he was underestimating Shoto. And that was a dangerous mistake.
The fight escalated, both of them moving so fast I could barely keep up. Bakugo’s relentless explosions echoed through the stadium, while Shoto remained cool and calculated, blocking and dodging with precision.
But then Shoto’s voice cut through the noise. “You think you understand my sister because you trained with her for a few days?”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face. No one else would’ve noticed, but I did. He hadn’t expected Shoto to know. I hadn’t told anyone about our training, and I knew Bakugo hadn’t either.
But he recovered quickly, his smirk returning. “Oh,so you do care, huh, Icy-Hot? If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have followed us. Kinda cute, actually.”
Shoto’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the tension in his jaw. Bakugo was pushing his buttons, and it was working.
“You really should’ve listened to her,” Bakugo sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “If you weren’t such a terrible brother, she wouldn’t have felt so damaged and she wouldn’t have lost control.”
That hit Shoto hard. His icy demeanor cracked for just a moment, anger flickering in his eyes. He clenched his fists, and the temperature around the arena seemed to drop even further.
In the stands, I shifted uncomfortably. Bakugo’s words were harsh, but there was truth in them. Still, hearing them out loud, seeing Shoto’s reaction—it made everything worse.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the fight. Shoto was my brother. No matter how much distance had grown between us, my loyalty to him ran deep. But Bakugo… he understand me. He trained with me, fought alongside me, and saw me—not just my power.
As I wrestled with my thoughts, I felt a familiar presence beside me. Denki, Mina, and Kirishima had come over, concern written all over their faces.
“Y/N, you okay?” Denki asked, his usual carefree tone softened with worry.
I blinked, surprised by their concern. After the Ice Dragon, I had expected them to be… afraid. Distant. But instead, Mina grinned at me, her eyes sparkling.
“That dragon move was awesome, Y/N. Seriously, you were amazing.”
I managed a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Thanks… but…”
Kirishima gave me a hearty pat on the back, nearly knocking me forward in my seat. “No ‘but’s! You were awesome! Sure, some people might be freaked out, but they don’t matter. We’ve got your back.”
Their words were a relief, but I couldn’t shake the eyes I felt on me from the rest of the stadium. The whispers. The doubt.
Down in the arena, the battle was reaching its peak. Bakugo had stopped underestimating Shoto, and Shoto was done holding back. Their blows were faster, fiercer. But then, I saw it—a flash of something in Shoto’s eyes. A memory, maybe. Midoriya’s words from their last fight Fuyumi told me about, echoed in my mind: It’s your quirk, not your father’s.
Shoto was hesitating. He wouldn’t win unless he used both sides of his quirk. He couldn’t keep denying the fire. He now understood why I had to use my Dragon against Bakugo.
And I wasn’t sure what scared me more—that he might lose, or that he might actually let the fire loose.
_________
Shoto’s hesitation was barely noticeable to the crowd, but I saw it. That split second where he realized his ice wasn’t enough. I could see it in the way his breath quickened, the strain starting to show in the movements of his body.
Then I felt it—a familiar heat.
He’s going to use it.
A surge of emotions hit me all at once—pride, fear, worry. Shoto’s fire side… I knew he hadn’t trained with it. But here, with Bakugo pushing him to his absolute limits, Shoto had no choice.
The flames erupted from his left side, consuming half the arena in an instant. The crowd gasped, and Present Mic’s voice blared through the speakers, but I couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the flames.
Bakugo paused, his eyes narrowing as he adjusted to the sudden heatwave flooding the battlefield.
“So you’re finally using it, huh?” Bakugo grinned, his voice almost lost in the crackling flames. “About damn time.”
Shoto didn’t respond. His focus was sharper than I’d ever seen. The fire surged around him, colliding with the ice that still coated the ground. Steam billowed up in thick clouds as the temperatures clashed, the sight both breathtaking and terrifying.
For a moment, I thought Bakugo might hesitate—but he didn’t. He charged forward, using the rising heat to launch himself even faster. His explosions were sharper now, more precise. He was using the fire to his advantage, but I could tell it was taking everything he had.
They met in the center of the arena—ice and fire against explosions—each trying to force the other back. Shoto’s flames were wild, barely controlled, but strong enough to keep Bakugo on the defensive. Bakugo, though, didn’t back down. He was relentless, dodging ice spikes and meeting Shoto’s flames with perfectly timed blasts.
I sat frozen in the stands, my eyes glued to the fight. They were both giving it everything, and I knew—this could only end one way. One of them was going to fall.
“Hey, Y/N,” Denki leaned over, his voice unusually serious. “Who do you think’s gonna win?”
I shook my head. “I… I don’t know.”
Kirishima’s eyes were locked on the arena, his expression intense. “Bakugo’s strong, but Shoto’s throwing everything into this. That fire quirk of his is dangerous.”
“Yeah, but Bakugo doesn’t know how to quit,” Mina added, arms crossed. “No matter how strong Shoto is, Bakugo’s too stubborn to give up.”
They were both right.
But my mind kept circling back to Hawks’ words: Find someone you can trust. And right now, that person was Bakugo.
But Shoto… Shoto was my brother. My blood.
I clenched my fists, torn between them. I didn’t want either of them to lose, but that’s not how this works. One of them would have to fall.
Down in the arena, Shoto was slowing down. His fire, though powerful, had drained him. He wasn’t used to using it like this. His flames flickered, and the ice beneath him cracked and broke under the heat.
Bakugo saw the opening.
With a deafening explosion, he launched himself into the air, his target clear—Shoto’s weakened side. The blast hit, sending Shoto skidding across the ground. He tried to stand, his body shaking with the effort, but his strength was gone. He dropped to his knees, flames extinguishing as he struggled for breath.
Bakugo landed in front of him, chest heaving, but still standing. His usual cocky grin was gone, replaced by something quieter. Anger, maybe.
Shoto didn’t move. His head hung low, and the arena fell into a heavy silence.
“Shoto Todoroki is unable to continue! The winner is Katsuki Bakugo!” Present Mic’s voice rang out, but it felt distant, like the real fight hadn’t ended.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Shoto had pushed himself to his limits, but it wasn’t enough. Bakugo had won.
But the victory felt hollow. I glanced down at Bakugo. He wasn’t celebrating. He wasn’t gloating. He just stood there, fists clenched, staring at Shoto like he didn’t know what to do next.
For the first time, I saw something in him—something I hadn’t noticed before. This wasn’t just about winning. This fight had been about something more for Bakugo, something even he might not fully understand yet.
“Y/N?” Fuyumi’s voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up at her, and she gave me a small, sad smile. “Shoto will be okay. He’ll learn from this.”
I nodded, but my mind wasn’t on Shoto. It was on Bakugo. And on the choice, I knew I’d have to make soon. My brother, or the person I could trust.
__________
After a while, Shoto was back on his feet, thanks to Recovery Girl. The damage from the fight was evident on him, but the exhaustion in his eyes spoke louder than any bruise or burn. He wasn’t just physically drained; there was something deeper. But at least he was okay.
Ms. Midnight’s voice rang out, introducing the winners of the Sports Festival. “In third place… Tokoyami Fumikage!”
The crowd cheered, but Tokoyami kept his usual stoic expression, though I could see a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he stepped forward.
“Second place, Todoroki Shoto!”
Shoto didn’t react much. His eyes were distant, clearly still reflecting on the fight. He glanced up at the stands briefly, and I could feel the weight of everything unsaid between us.
“And in first place… Bakugo Katsuki!”
The crowd’s cheers became mixed with gasps and murmurs when they saw Bakugo. Strapped to a pole with chains, a muzzle over his mouth, he thrashed against the restraints, cursing and shouting about how this wasn’t a “real win.” His rage was explosive, even without his quirk.
Bakugo’s growls echoed across the arena, and even though I could barely make out his words, I knew exactly what he was saying. He wanted a rematch—desperately. To him, winning like this didn’t count because Shoto hadn’t given it his all. It wasn’t enough for Bakugo to win if his opponent wasn’t fully fighting back.
The teachers did their best to ignore his outburst, but it was hard to miss the spectacle. All Might stepped forward with his trademark smile, holding the gold medal. Despite Bakugo’s fury, All Might looped the medal around his neck with a quiet word of encouragement.
Bakugo struggled against the chains, still growling, but even he couldn’t break free. The muzzle muffled his angry tirade, though his eyes burned with the need to prove himself.
Even though I hadn’t won, I felt a swell of pride watching him up there. He had given it his all, and deep down, I knew how much this meant to him—how much it had cost him to stand there, restrained like that. And Shoto… even though he didn’t push himself fully, I was proud of him too. Proud that he was finally finding his way.
But more than anything, I was glad it was over. I had proven what I needed to. No one would underestimate me again. Hopefully.
My father, of course, was less than pleased. His sharp gaze flicked between Shoto and me as if silently assessing how we had failed to meet his expectations. But I wasn’t thinking about him. Not anymore. Fuyumi and Natsuo smiled at me from the stands, their quiet support all I needed.
As the ceremony ended, I started to make my way toward the exit, ready to leave the chaos behind me. But then, I felt it. A presence. Something… familiar. Warm, almost comforting, but not entirely.
I stopped in my tracks, every instinct on alert. My heart thudded in my chest. I knew that presence. I’d felt it before, but something about it was different this time. It was as though, a warning was blaring inside me, telling me to be more cautious than ever.
I glanced around, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from, but there was nothing obvious. No one stood out in the crowd. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
My senses sharpened, and I took a slow breath, trying to shake off the tension. Whatever—or whoever—it was, I couldn’t let my guard down. Not now. Not ever again.
I quickened my pace, slipping through the thinning crowd, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that someone—or something—was watching me.
The sterile smell of antiseptic was the first thing I noticed as my senses slowly came back. My body felt like it was encased in ice—heavy and aching. I blinked, my vision adjusting to the bright lights of the UA nursing room. The last thing I remembered was Bakugo running toward me. Then… nothing.
“You’re awake,” a familiar voice said from the side of the room.
I turned my head, and there was Recovery Girl, her small frame looking even tinier in the large chair beside me. Her expression was serious, her eyes sharp with concern.
“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked, her tone kind, but something in her voice told me she wasn’t asking just to make conversation.
I tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through my hands. I winced and looked down. My hands were wrapped in thick bandages, and a faint purple hue pulsed underneath. The memory of the Ice Dragon flickered in my mind, along with the fire. I couldn’t suppress a shiver.
“My hands… they’re frozen again, aren’t they?”
Recovery Girl shook her head slowly. “It’s not just your hands. Your body temperature… it’s far hotter than anything I’ve ever seen, even hotter than Endeavor’s when he uses his flames. If you don’t learn how to control it, Y/N, it could be very dangerous for you.” Her words were gentle, but the warning was clear.
Dangerous. The word hung in the air. I had known that the Ice Dragon was powerful, but I didn’t think it would push my body to the brink like this.
I nodded weakly, feeling the weight of her concern settle on my chest. I was always teetering on the edge of control, and this was just another reminder of how close I had come to losing everything.
Recovery Girl stood up, moving closer to check my bandages. “You’ve got the potential for something great, but this—” She gestured to my hands. “This kind of power will consume you if you don’t take control. Understand?”
I swallowed, the words sticking in my throat, but I nodded again. I understood.
As Recovery Girl left the room, her warning still echoed in my head. I lay back down, staring at the ceiling. Outside, I could hear the crowd roaring, the matches continuing without me. The sports festival was still going, and I wasn’t out there.
Tenya’s match with Ibara Shiozaki must be happening now. I wanted to be out there supporting him, but my thoughts kept drifting back to our last conversation. That’s why you’re not a Pro-Hero anymore. His words had stung more than I let on.
I clenched my teeth, feeling the sting of bitterness creep in. I understood where he was coming from, I really did, but it still hurt. He hadn’t seen what it takes, what we sometimes must become to survive out there – in a real fight. I had seen it—lived it.
Even so, I couldn’t help but want to see his match. I wanted to know if he had started to grasp what it really meant to be a hero after watching me battle Bakugo. Heroes don’t just lecture others; they fight with everything they have, even when it means pushing themselves beyond their limits. Maybe now, after seeing that, Tenya would finally understand.
Then there was Kirishima’s match against Tokoyami. I liked both, and they were strong in their own right, but a part of me hoped Kirishima would pull through. He had a certain toughness that was hard to beat, even against Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow.
My thoughts were cut off by a loud thud at the door. When I looked up, Bakugo had already let himself in, looking like he owned the place, as usual.
“What the hell, Bakugo?” I frowned, trying to sit up through the soreness.
“Tch, don’t ‘what the hell’ me. Like I’m gonna sit around while you’re lying here looking like shit.” His arms were crossed, his expression sharp, like he was annoyed just being here.
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “I figured you’d be too busy winning to care.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Frostburn.” Bakugo shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wall. “Denki and Mina are keeping your old man distracted. I figured you didn’t wanna see him barging in here.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You did that? Since when do you care?”
He rolled his eyes, irritated. “I don’t. Just didn’t want him yelling in my face while I’m trying to think.”
His words were sharp, but something in his stance seemed a little off, like he was trying too hard to look disinterested. Before I could say anything else, he jumped right to the point.
“Heard what went down after you passed out. Your old man and Todoroki were going at it. So, what the hell’s your problem?” His eyes narrowed, glaring at me. “You got fire, you got that damn dragon—so why’d you hold back with Shinso? You didn’t hold back when we fought but then suddenly you fucking did? You going soft on me or something?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could I explain something I hadn’t even fully accepted myself? That I hadn’t just fought him to win, but to protect my loved ones from a threat I couldn’t even name yet? I had no choice but to show everyone what I was capable of—to prove that I wasn’t weak. But how could I tell Bakugo that without putting him in danger too?
I tried to push the words out, to tell him about the warning Hawks had given me, but instead, I hesitated. I trusted Bakugo, more than I trusted anyone from the UA, even though I couldn’t explain why. It felt like too much. So instead, I chose the part of the story I thought was safer to tell.
“You could’ve beaten me,” Bakugo’s voice cut through my thoughts like a blade. “But you weren’t all there. So, what the hell happened? Why didn’t you finish it?”
He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t been fully present. I was fighting something deeper, something more than just him.
“I wasn’t holding back out of pity, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I muttered, keeping my eyes away from his. It was the truth, but it felt hollow saying it out loud.
“Then what?” he snapped, his voice sharp and insistent, like he wasn’t about to let me off easy. “Spit it out.”
The truth about Toya seemed like the only thing I could explain. I’d mentioned him to Bakugo before, briefly, but not the full story. Not what really happened.
I hesitated, feeling the weight of it all press down on me. I hadn’t really told anyone about Toya, not the full story. Not even Shoto. But standing here with Bakugo, with his intense, unrelenting gaze on me, I felt like I had to say something. Maybe it was because I knew he wouldn’t sugar-coat his response, or maybe I was just tired of carrying it.
“I had a brother,” I began, my voice quieter than I intended. “Toya. I told you about him before, but… I didn’t tell you everything.”
Bakugo didn’t say anything, but his glare stayed fixed on me, waiting. He wasn’t letting this go. There was no running from this conversation.
“We were really close and used to train together,” I continued, the memories of those days flooding back. “Until one day… something went wrong. Toya lost control of his flames and when I tried to safe him with my Dragon I lost control too, and he—he didn’t survive.”
There was a flicker of something in Bakugo’s eyes, but he stayed quiet, listening. I didn’t expect him to offer any comforting words. That wasn’t his style, and I didn’t need it.
“I’ve been afraid of that power ever since,” I said, my voice thickening with the weight of it all. “Afraid of what it could do. But when I fought you… I couldn’t hold it back. The dragon… it just came out.”
Bakugo scoffed, crossing his arms. “That’s your problem, Frostburn. You think holding back’s gonna save you—or anyone else. But it’s not.”
I tensed at his words. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t exactly right either. I wasn’t just holding back for myself. There was more to it—more than he knew.
“I wanted to make Toya proud,” I whispered, barely able to say the words. “I thought if I could control it, if I could use it… maybe I’d be strong enough to prove something to him. To everyone.”
There was a long silence after that. I didn’t look up at Bakugo, afraid of what I might see in his expression. Maybe he thought I was weak for thinking that way. Maybe he—
“Stop thinking like an idiot,” Bakugo snapped, his voice low but cutting. “You’re not here to make some dead guy proud. You’re here to win. To be the best. You think your brother wanted you to fall apart like this?”
His words stung, but not in the way I expected. It wasn’t cruelty—it was Bakugo’s brutal honesty. And somehow, it felt more real than anything else.
“Look, I get it,” Bakugo continued, his eyes hard but unwavering. “You’ve got shit to prove, just like everyone else. But next time you’re in a fight with me or anyone else, holding back’s just gonna get you killed.” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “If you’ve got power like that, you use it. You don’t let it use you.”
He paused, as if weighing whether to say more, then added, “And you don’t need to make Toya proud. He’s dead. Focus on you.”
I swallowed, feeling the tightness in my chest ease just a little. He didn’t pity me. He didn’t look down on me for what I had told him. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone understood—even if he’d never admit it out loud.
“And if he’d still be alive, I think he’d want you to control that thing. So learn how to fucking control your powers.” He muttered.
Before I could respond, the door slammed open, and Shoto stormed in, his eyes locking onto Bakugo immediately.
“What are you doing here?” Shoto demanded, his voice cold and clipped. “Only family is allowed in this room.”
Bakugo’s eyes flicked toward me, then back to Shoto. “Listen half and half bastard,” A dark chuckle escaped him, low and mocking. “I’ve known Frostburn for a few weeks, and I’m probably more family to her than you ever will be.”
I felt my heart skip a beat at his words, my mind reeling from the shock. I could see Shoto’s fists clenching at his sides, but before he could respond, Fuyumi and Natsuo walked in behind him, their presence diffusing some of the tension.
Bakugo didn’t stick around. He nodded to me, a silent acknowledgment, before turning to leave the room without another word. But as he passed by Shoto, the air between them crackled with unspoken hostility. Shoto’s icy glare followed him, but he stayed quiet, too angry and confused to say anything in front of our siblings.
I watched Bakugo leave, the tension still lingering in the room, but something caught my eye as he reached the door. A small, red feather was tucked against the back of his uniform. It waved at me, just for a second, and I immediately recognized it—Hawks.
My breath hitched in my throat as I realized what Hawks was trying to tell me. He was showing me, in his subtle way, that I could trust Bakugo.
The feather fluttered once more before disappearing as Bakugo stepped out of the room. I wasn’t sure if Katsuki even knew it was there, but the message was clear. Hawks had been watching, guiding me, and he trusted Bakugo. Maybe I should too.
__________
Once Bakugo was out of the room, the air felt heavier, like everyone was trying to process what had just happened. Fuyumi, always the peacemaker, smiled at me softly as she walked over to the side of my bed.
“You’re awake!” she said, her voice filled with relief. “We were so worried.”
I smiled back, though I could still feel the weight of everything lingering in the room. “I’m okay. Just a little… tired.”
Natsuo gave me a firm pat on the back—well, as close as he could, given the blankets and bandages. “You sure know how to make an entrance, don’t you? That Ice Dragon of yours was amazing.”
I forced a small laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah, well, it nearly took me out too.”
Shoto stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, his face set in that familiar unreadable mask. He hadn’t said anything since Bakugo left, and I could feel his gaze lingering on me, but I didn’t have the energy to deal with his judgment right now.
“Shoto, doesn’t you fight start soon or do you wanna stay?” Fuyumi asked, her voice light as she tried to keep things normal.
Shoto looked up at her, then back at me. His expression tightened for a moment before he shook his head. “No. I’ll be leaving soon,” he said curtly. His words weren’t meant to sound harsh, but I could hear the underlying tension. There was still so much left unsaid between us.
I glanced at him briefly before turning my attention to Fuyumi. “Hey, can you tell me what really happened during the fight?” I asked, changing the subject. “I remember Bakugo running toward me, but… I don’t remember how it ended.”
Fuyumi exchanged a glance with Natsuo, then sighed. “You really don’t remember?”
I shook my head, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. “No.”
Fuyumi sat down beside me, her voice gentle as she explained. “You were about to collapse, Y/N. The Ice Dragon was falling apart, and it looked like Katsuki was going to land the final hit, but… he didn’t. Instead, he caught you before you fell. He saved you from the dragon’s collapse.”
My eyes widened in surprise. Bakugo… saved me?
Fuyumi nodded, seeing the confusion on my face. “He used his explosions to keep the ice from crushing down on you, then made sure you were safe before calling it a draw. After that, your classmates stepped in to make sure Father couldn’t reach you.”
I was stunned. Bakugo wasn’t the type to hold back, let alone help someone during a fight. The thought that he had protected me—that he had made sure Endeavor couldn’t get to me—didn’t make sense. But then again, nothing about Bakugo was ever simple.
“He saved me…” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.
Fuyumi smiled softly, but there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “I don’t know him well, but from what I saw during the festival, Bakugo isn’t the type to hold back. The fact that he did… it says something. He might not be easy to understand, but maybe there’s more to him than you think.”
“Or he just as a crush on our little sister.” Natsuo grinned and saw me blushing immediately from his comment. “Seems like someone’s got a soft spot.”
I shot him a look, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. The guy’s got a reputation since the festival, and saving people isn’t usually his style.”
I shook my head, still processing everything. Bakugo had pushed me to my limits, and yet he hadn’t finished the fight. He had protected me from my own power. Why?
Before I could dwell on it further, Present Mic’s voice echoed through the speakers, announcing the next match.
“The next battle is about to begin: Katsuki Bakugo versus Shoto Todoroki!”
Shoto straightened, his expression hardening. “I’ll see you after the match,” he said, his voice clipped. He turned on his heel and left the room without another word, Natsuo following him.
_________
As soon as they were gone, I turned to Fuyumi, who was watching me with a knowing smile.
“I have to see the fight,” I said, already struggling to sit up. The pain in my hands was sharp, and my body still ached from the fight, but I couldn’t just lie here while Bakugo and Shoto faced off. “Help me get up.”
Fuyumi looked at me, her expression a mixture of concern and amusement. “Are you sure you should be moving around right now?”
I nodded, determination hardening my voice. “I’m sure. I need to see this.”
I couldn’t let this fight happen without seeing it for myself. I needed to know what Bakugo would do after everything that had happened between our fight. And Shoto… he was still so angry. Also they hate each other.
As Fuyumi helped me to my feet, supporting me as I steadied myself, she smiled softly. “You and Shoto are really full of surprises today.”
I frowned, a little confused. “What do you mean?”
“Both of you, using your fire,” she said, her voice filled with a kind of astonished pride. “It’s not something I ever thought I’d see.”
My eyes widened in shock. “Wait—Shoto? He used his fire?” My mind raced. “How did that happen? He never uses it.”
Fuyumi nodded, her expression softening. “Against Midoriya. I think something changed for him after your fight… or maybe after seeing what you did.” She paused, her gaze thoughtful. “He didn’t hold back, Y/N. Not like he used to. It was like he finally accepted that part of himself.”
I was stunned. Shoto, using his fire? The very thing he swore he’d never do because of our father. Something big must have shifted for him. And knowing that it happened today, of all days—after everything I went through—felt like a strange mirror of my own struggle.
With Fuyumi supporting me, we made our way slowly toward the viewing area. Every step sent a wave of exhaustion through my body, but I pushed it aside. I had to be there.
The crowd was already buzzing with anticipation as we approached the arena, the tension thick in the air. Bakugo was already in the center, his usual confident smirk in place, explosions sparking at his palms. Across from him, Shoto stood tall, his eyes cold and focused, the air around him already dropping in temperature.
Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed through the arena. My eyes snapped open, and I felt a surge of power. A massive dragon of ice and purple flames erupted around me, its form jagged and crystalline, shimmering in the light like a living weapon. Licks of purple fire danced along its icy scales, and I could feel the violet glow of my irises reflecting the same intensity. My eyes, now glowing the same purple as the flames, locked with the dragon’s own fiery gaze, as if we were one.
The crowd erupted into a mixture of gasps and shouts, some backing away in fear at the sight of the dragon towering above me.
“What the hell… is that?” someone from the stands muttered in disbelief.
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Is that her quirk?!”
“She’s a monster!” another spectator shouted, their voice trembling.
But not everyone was afraid. From the stands, I could hear another voice, full of bitterness. “After what Bakugo did to Ochaco, this is exactly what he deserves.”
“Yeah,” someone else agreed. “He pushed her too far, and now he’s going to pay for it.”
But through the noise, I could feel Shoto’s eyes on me. His gaze was hard, sharp with disbelief and something much colder—resentment. Of course, he didn’t know about this part of me. Why would he? We barely spoke anymore. Not after I chose to train with our father, the one person he despised most.
She’s been hiding this all along? Shoto’s mind raced as he watched the dragon form around me. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tightly. Of course she didn’t tell me. She’s been on his side this whole time.
There was no empathy in his gaze. If anything, he seemed almost disgusted. The realization that I’d been hiding such a powerful ability only reinforced his belief that I was more like our father than I’d ever admit. What else has she been keeping from me? he thought bitterly.
The dragon roared again, and I could feel its power within me, wild and untamed. It was burning too hot, especially the fire, and I had to fight to keep it under control. Memories of Toya, of the day in the forest when everything went wrong, flashed before me. I could feel the flames spreading, uncontrollable. I had tried to stop it. Tried to save him. But I had failed.
Focus, Y/N. This is not then. This is now.
As the fight raged on, I could sense the dragon straining against me. The fire surged within it, flickering dangerously close to breaking free. I pushed it down, forced myself to stay in control, but it was slipping.
“That’s more like it!” Bakugo shouted, the gleam of excitement flashing in his eyes as he launched himself toward me, explosions flaring from his hands. His confidence didn’t waver for a second, even with the dragon towering over us.
The dragon surged forward at my command, meeting Bakugo head-on. Ice and fire clashed violently against his relentless explosions, the force of the collision sending shockwaves through the arena. The entire stadium shook with the impact.
Shoto’s eyes stayed on me, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. But something changed as he continued to watch. She’s struggling, he realized. He could see the tension in my movements, the way the fire within the dragon flickered unpredictably.
He narrowed his eyes, suddenly uncertain. She can barely control it. The purple flames licked higher, crackling with raw power, and for the first time, Shoto saw the struggle in my expression—the same struggle he’d faced himself. Is that why she didn’t tell anyone?
His mind flashed back to his own refusal to use his fire quirk for so long. He hadn’t wanted to use it, because it was his father’s, a symbol of everything he’d rejected. Maybe Y/N hadn’t wanted to use her fire either. Maybe she was hiding it for the same reasons.
She’s just like me, Shoto thought, the resentment in his chest cooling slightly. But then, just as quickly, his anger flared again. No. She chose to train with him. She’s not like me. She wanted this power.
In the stands, Deku’s eyes widened. “That power… I’ve never seen Y/N use anything like it. Not even in training.”
Beside him, Uraraka’s face was pale with concern. “Is she going to be okay? That dragon… it’s terrifying.”
Kirishima leaned forward, eyes wide. “I’ve seen Bakugo fight a ton of people, but he’s never faced something like this.”
“Yeah, but look at him,” Kaminari added, nodding toward the battlefield. “He’s not scared. He’s pumped.”
“Of course he is,” Jiro said. “He’s been waiting for someone to push him this hard. But still… that dragon…”
As the dragon moved in sync with me again, responding to my every command, I felt the fire within it burning hot and wild. But I kept it under control. This time, I had to. I wasn’t just fighting Bakugo—I was fighting for something much bigger. Hawks’ warning echoed in my mind: Show them what you’re capable of, or they’ll be in danger. My loved ones. My friends. They were counting on me to protect them.
“Bakugo doesn’t stand a chance against that thing!” someone in the crowd yelled, their voice full of awe.
“He’s tough, but even he can’t win against that kind of power,” another added.
But Bakugo attacked with everything he had, refusing to back down. His explosions tore chunks of ice from the dragon’s body, but every time a piece shattered, I reformed it with ease, the purple flames flickering and reigniting, keeping the dragon alive and burning. His eyes were blazing with determination—he wasn’t going to stop. But neither was I.
My purple irises glowed brighter, in sync with the dragon’s blazing eyes, as I pushed the power further. I wasn’t just showing Bakugo what I could do. I was showing the entire world. I was proving that I could protect the people I loved, no matter what it took.
In the VIP section, Endeavor’s eyes were fixed on me, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t expected this.
**Flashback**:
I was still a little girl the first time I caught Toya training when he wasn’t supposed to. Our parents had told him to stop—his body couldn’t handle it, they said. But Toya didn’t care. I watched from behind a tree as he stood in the clearing, his flame burning bright and angry, defiant even. He moved through the motions, even as his hands trembled and his skin reddened from the heat.
He was hurting himself. I knew that. But I also couldn’t look away. There was something mesmerizing about him—about his strength, his determination. Even when his flames sputtered and flickered, he kept going, like he had something to prove to everyone who had doubted him.
I must have stepped on a twig or made some noise, because suddenly, Toya stopped and turned, his fiery blue eyes locking onto mine.
“You’ve been watching me this whole time, huh?”
I froze, heart pounding, afraid he’d be mad that I had been spying on him. But instead of anger, his gaze softened, just a little. He walked over to me, his flames dimming until they were barely flickering at his fingertips.
“You want to train too, don’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual. “I’ve seen how Endeavor looks at you, like you’re invisible. Like you don’t matter next to Shoto.”
I blinked, surprised by how easily he had seen through me. Toya knelt down in front of me, his expression intense but not unkind.
“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering me his hand. “Let’s train together. We’ll show them what we’re capable of.”
From that day on, Toya and I trained in secret. At first, we focused on honing my ice powers—learning how to shape them, how to control the temperature, the density. Toya was relentless, pushing me harder than anyone ever had, but it didn’t feel cruel. It felt like he saw me for the first time, like he was finally acknowledging the potential I hadn’t even realized I had.
It wasn’t long before we started experimenting with different ways to use our quirks. One day, Toya had the idea that we could control our fire and ice like extensions of ourselves—like telekinesis, but stronger. We practiced for days, weeks, learning how to move our elements with just our minds, until it felt like second nature.
And then came the day everything changed.
We were training in the forest again, far from anyone who could hear us, when I tried to mimic one of Toya’s fire techniques. I expected nothing—just another failed attempt. But when I reached out with my mind, summoning the power, something flickered at my fingertips.
A flame.
Not like Toya’s brilliant blue fire, but a small, flickering, violet flame. I stared at it, wide-eyed, my heart racing with excitement—and fear. I could use fire too. Not well, not like Toya, but it was there, deep inside me, waiting to be unleashed.
Toya’s eyes widened as he watched me, and then a grin spread across his face. “You’ve got it in you too,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “We can be even stronger than I thought. We can fulfill fathers dream.”
From that moment on, Toya became obsessed with the idea of combining our powers into something bigger. Stronger. He talked endlessly about how we could shape our fire and ice into creatures—something that would make us unstoppable as a duo. No matter how hard Toya tried, his quirk didn’t work that way. But with mine… with mine, it was different.
One day, while focusing harder than I ever had before, I managed to form the ice into something solid, something alive. It took the shape of a dragon, its body shimmering like crystal, and to my shock, it moved with me. The fire flickered within it, a wild, uncontrollable force. It was dangerous. But it was beautiful. The first version of my Ice Dragon.
Toya watched in awe as the dragon roared, its flames licking at the air, and for the first time, I felt powerful. Not just because of the dragon, but because I had something no one else knew about. Something I had built with Toya, my brother.
But as time went on, I noticed the look in Toya’s eyes change. What had started as pride became something more intense—more desperate. His obsession with power grew, and he pushed me further, urging me to make the dragon bigger, stronger. He saw potential in me, in us, but I began to feel the weight of it.
Toya wanted more. And part of me did too but that power came with a cost.
The last time we trained together, the day everything went wrong, Toya had pushed himself too far. His flames burned hotter than ever, the forest around us catching fire, the heat suffocating. I begged him to stop, but he didn’t listen—he never listened when he got like that. Desperation flickered in his eyes, as if proving himself was all that mattered.
The fire spread, devouring everything in its path.
I tried to help. Tried to control my dragon, to use it to put out the flames, but something went wrong. Instead of ice, my dragon spewed fire—purple, uncontrolled, wild.
Panic surged through me as I watched the flames grow, engulfing the trees, the earth—everything. And at the center of it all was Toya, consumed by the very flames he’d summoned.
I could still hear Toya’s shouting—his voice frantic, desperate—but I couldn’t understand the words. All I could see was the fire, his blue flames consuming everything. And I had tried—tried to help, tried to stop it—but the dragon… the dragon I had created, meant to save him, had only made things worse.
The flames from my dragon had fed Toya’s fire, turning it into a raging inferno. My ice, my fire—it had all spiraled out of control. And I had watched, helpless, as the forest burned, as Toya disappeared into the flames.
I had failed.
I couldn’t save him.
____________
I could still hear the crackling of the flames in my nightmares, still feel the heat of the fire on my skin. Ever since that day, I had buried that part of me—the fire, the dragon, the memories of Toya. I had sworn never to use it again.
But now, here it was—the same fire, the same dragon I’d sworn to forget—roaring back to life as if it had never truly left me. The weight of the flames felt heavier than ever, burning hot and wild, and I could feel my control slipping, just like it had all those years ago. I was eight again, standing in the burning forest, watching helplessly as the fire spread, as Toya pushed himself too far.
That failure had haunted me ever since. The day I swore I would never lose control like that again. The day I buried the fire deep inside me and locked it away.
But now, as I stood in the center of the arena, facing Bakugo, I could feel it clawing its way back to the surface. The dragon I had once feared was here again, roaring louder than ever, its flames threatening to consume me once more. And this time, I wasn’t sure I could stop it.
Focus, Y/N. I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself. This is not then. This is now. I can control it.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, pushing the memories back, shoving the fear down. But as the fight raged on, I could feel the dragon straining against me, the fire inside it flickering dangerously close to breaking free.
She’s been hiding it,” Shoto muttered again, more certain this time as he watched my movements. “She didn’t want to use this quirk.”
The thought lingered, twisting in his mind. Even after all this time, after the choices I’d made, there was a part of Shoto that understood what I was going through. Because he had been through it too.
Bakugo’s explosions continued to tear into the dragon, each one sending shockwaves through my body. But I held my ground, forcing the ice to reform, keeping the flames contained as best I could. I couldn’t let him see how close I was to losing control.
But Bakugo wasn’t backing down. He wasn’t slowing. If anything, he was pushing even harder, his eyes blazing with determination, a wild grin on his face. “Finally!” he shouted, his voice full of excitement. “You’re fighting for real now! Don’t you dare quit on me, Frostburn!”
He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t even fazed. If anything, he was thrilled by the challenge. And that only made it harder for me to keep the fire at bay.
My vision blurred for a moment, and suddenly I wasn’t in the arena anymore. I was back in the forest, the flames towering around me, the heat suffocating. I could hear Toya’s voice again, calling out to me, his words lost in the roar of the fire. And the dragon—the same dragon I had created to help him—was there too, but I couldn’t control it. It was too big, too wild, too powerful. Just like now.
No. Not again.
The fire inside the dragon flared, a burst of purple flames shooting into the sky, and I stumbled, my knees buckling under the strain. The dragon was slipping from my control, and I could feel my body growing colder, the ice creeping up my arms, freezing my hands in place.
I could hear the crowd gasping, could feel their eyes on me, but it all felt distant, like a dream. My mind was back in the forest, back with Toya, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull myself out.
I’m losing it. The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. I’m losing control.
Bakugo saw it too. His wild grin faded, his eyes narrowing as he charged forward, another explosion primed in his hands. “Y/N!” he shouted, his voice sharp. “Don’t you dare lose it now! Control that damn thing, or I’ll end this!”
But I could feel it—the fire bursting free, wild and uncontrollable. The flames surged, flickering wildly as the dragon began to fall apart, chunks of ice shattering and raining down around me.
I didn’t want to fail Katsuki like I had Toya but I couldn’t stop it.
My hands were completely frozen now, the cold creeping further up my arms, and I could barely stand. The fire was burning too hot, too wild, and the ice… the ice was suffocating me. My vision blurred again, and for a moment, I thought I saw Toya standing in the crowd, his blue flames flickering at his fingertips, his eyes full of that same desperation.
I failed him then. I’m failing again.
_________
The last thing I saw before everything went black was Bakugo, still charging at me, his explosions tearing through the dragon, his eyes locked on mine.
And then—darkness.
When I opened my eyes, the roar of the crowd was gone, replaced by a distant murmur of voices. My body felt heavy, cold, like I was made of ice. My hands… I couldn’t feel them. They were frozen solid.
I blinked, trying to focus, but my vision was still blurry. The bright lights of the arena were gone, replaced by the sterile, white walls of the infirmary. I lay in a bed, swaddled in heavy blankets, my hands wrapped in thick bandages.
For a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or what had happened. My mind was blank. But then it hit me—like a wave crashing over me.
The fight. The dragon. The fire.
Bakugo.
I shifted slightly, a dull ache spreading through my body, and winced at the stiffness in my limbs. That’s when I saw him.
Shoto?
He stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed over his chest, his face as unreadable as ever. His eyes—cold, sharp, and filled with something I couldn’t quite place—were fixed on me.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. What could I even say? That I hadn’t meant to lose control? That I hadn’t wanted him to see that part of me?
But he didn’t speak either. He just stood there, watching me, his expression hard and distant, like there was an invisible wall between us that neither of us wanted to cross.
In that suffocating silence, it dawned on me.
He wasn’t angry because I had lost control. He wasn’t even angry because I had kept the fire hidden from him for so long.
He was angry because he understood.
For the first time, he saw that I was just like him. Struggling. Battling against a part of myself I didn’t want to accept. A part I had buried deep inside, just as he had done with his own fire.
But instead of comfort, that realization only filled me with emptiness. Because I knew that this shared understanding didn’t bring us closer. If anything, it made the distance between us feel even more insurmountable. Like we were on opposite sides of the same battle.
Without a word, Shoto turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts—the dragon, the fire, and the weight of a truth I had fought so hard to keep hidden.
The air was thick with tension, the excitement of the crowd a distant hum in the back of my mind. I had slipped away from the noisy arena for a moment of peace, needing time to process everything that had happened so far. The adrenaline of the last fights still coursed through me, but more than that, Hawks’ words still kept echoing in my head: Give everything, or you and your loved ones are in danger.
I tried to shake it off, but the weight of his warning lingered like a suffocating cloud. Leaning against the cold stone wall of a secluded corner of the festival grounds, I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe.
But of course, the silence didn’t last long.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing all alone?” a rough voice broke through my thoughts. I knew it even before I turned around.
“Katsuki,” I muttered, glancing over my shoulder. He stood there, arms crossed tight, his usual scowl fixed on me. I didn’t need this right now.
“You always sneak off like this to mope?” His tone was as sharp as ever, but something was different. His eyes weren’t just filled with irritation—there was… curiosity?
I rolled my eyes. “What do you want, Bakugo?” How did he even find me?
For a second, he didn’t answer, just stared at me with that intense gaze of his. Then, he spoke—quieter, but still demanding. “Why’d you defend me out there?”
That caught me off guard. I straightened, facing him fully. “You mean during the fight with Ochaco?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t need you or anyone else sticking up for me.”
I sighed, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “You don’t get it, do you?” I locked eyes with him, refusing to back down. “I didn’t defend you because I thought you needed it. I did it because you fought Ochaco seriously, without holding back. You respected her enough to give it everything.”
Bakugo blinked—just for a second, but it was enough to show I’d thrown him off balance. “Tch. Whatever. Like I need to hear that from you.”
I raised an eyebrow, sensing his frustration. “So you’re mad that I said it in front of everyone, or because I’m right?”
For just a flicker of a moment, uncertainty flashed in his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by that familiar hard glare. “Don’t act like you know me, Frostburn,” he snarled, turning away.
Before I could respond, the loudspeaker crackled to life overhead. “Next up, in the third round of the UA Sports Festival… Katsuki Bakugo versus Y/N Todoroki!”
My heart stopped. Bakugo and me? We were going to fight.
He whipped around, his eyes locking onto mine with a new, burning intensity. The vulnerability that had briefly surfaced vanished, replaced by a fierce determination. “Great. Just what I needed,” he muttered, voice low and dangerous.
The air between us shifted, growing taut with tension. “Bakugo, I—”
“Don’t you dare hold back, Frostburn,” he cut me off, stepping closer. His voice was lethal, his eyes blazing. “I don’t give a damn why you defended me. But if you go easy on me out there… I’ll crush you.”
I clenched my jaw, meeting his challenge head-on. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
For a moment, we stood there, the space between us thick with unresolved energy, like the calm before a storm. Then, without another word, Bakugo turned and stormed off, leaving me standing in the echo of his threat.
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. This is it. No way I could be holding back now.
____________
As I walked toward the arena, the weight of the crowd’s eyes pressed down on me, their cheers and shouts blending into a distant roar. The stadium buzzed with excitement, but none of it seemed to reach me.
The announcement echoed in my mind—Katsuki Bakugo versus Y/N Todoroki—a wave of unease settled over me. Of all the people I could’ve fought, it had to be Bakugo. Not because I feared him—far from it. Bakugo was ruthless, relentless, and undeniably strong, but I could handle that. What I couldn’t handle was the thought of hurting him. I knew he wouldn’t pull any punches, and that was the real problem.
He wouldn’t let me hold back.
And if I couldn’t hold back… that meant I’d have to use my technique. The one thing I had fought so hard to keep hidden from everyone—especially my father.
Just the thought of it sent a chill down my spine. I’d spent years suppressing that power, locking it away. I’d convinced myself I didn’t need it, more that I can’t even use it anymore, that it was a one-time thing… a terrible one time. But now, facing someone like Bakugo, I wasn’t sure. Could I really keep it hidden in a battle like this? A battle were holding back could mean putting the people who are closest to me in danger.
Before I could dwell any longer, a group of my classmates from 1-A appeared. Their faces were a mix of curiosity and concern, but Iida, as usual, was the first to confront me.
“Y/N,” he started, his tone stiff, disapproving. “I don’t understand why you defended Bakugo during his match with Ochaco. His behavior was aggressive and unbecoming of a hero.”
I clenched my fists, already knowing where this conversation was headed. “I defended him because he showed Ochaco respect by fighting her seriously,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “That’s what you should expect in a fight.”
Iida’s frown deepened, clearly dissatisfied. “But his tactics—”
“—are what make him strong,” I cut in, my patience fraying. “Being a hero isn’t about holding back, it’s about facing every opponent with everything you’ve got. That’s the respect you owe them.”
Deku stood nearby, concern evident on his face. “Y/N… are you sure this is the right approach?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with worry. “You’ve to fight him next.”
“I’m sure,” I said, locking eyes with Iida. “If you don’t get it now, I hope you will one day.”
Iida’s expression tightened. “Maybe that’s why you’re no longer a Pro-Hero,” he said sharply, his words cutting deeper than I expected. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten what it means to show restraint.”
His accusation hit like a punch, but I forced myself to stay composed. He had no idea. No idea what it was like to carry the kind of power that could destroy everything around you if you lost control.
“Maybe,” I replied coldly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Bakugo fought her with everything he had. That’s what being a hero means.”
Unbeknownst to me, Bakugo had returned, standing just out of sight. He must’ve overheard the exchange because when he stepped forward, his face was unreadable, though his eyes flickered with something more than his usual anger.
For a moment, silence hung between us all. Then the loudspeaker boomed once more.
“Katsuki Bakugo versus Y/N Todoroki! The match will begin in five minutes.”
Bakugo’s scowl returned, his voice low and charged with intensity. “I hope you’re ready, Frostburn. Because I’m not holding back.”
My heart sank. I couldn’t hold back either. Not this time. But that also meant risking everything I had fought so hard to hide. “Neither am I,” I said, forcing the words out.
He wouldn’t understand. None of them would. Bakugo didn’t know what he was asking for, what it would mean if I unleashed that side of me. The technique inside me wasn’t just another quirk—it was a force of destruction I’d spent years trying to contain. My father would know if I used it. He’d see it as a failure, proof that I was weak for keeping it locked away.
But I wasn’t afraid of him. I was afraid of what would happen if I couldn’t control it.
Without another word, we walked toward the arena, side by side, knowing that in just a few minutes, we’d face each other with everything on the line. And I couldn’t hide from it any longer.
_________
The crowd roared as we stepped into the arena, the tension between us almost tangible. It felt like the entire stadium was buzzing, as if they could sense the storm brewing between Bakugo and me. My heart pounded, but I kept my eyes locked on him, refusing to let any fear or hesitation show.
Bakugo’s glare was sharper than ever, his usual intensity cranked up. “Don’t pull that half-assed crap like you did with Shinso,” he snarled, explosions crackling in his palms. “You think you can hold back with me? I’ll blow you to pieces if you try that again.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. Bakugo wasn’t Shinso. He was relentless, ruthless, and he would take any sign of hesitation as a weakness. I couldn’t afford to hold back—not this time. But deep down, the decision to let loose, to unleash everything, was tearing me apart. I wasn’t afraid of Bakugo. I was afraid of what I might do if I went all out.
“I’m not holding back,” I muttered, steeling myself. But I knew the truth. Deep down, I was terrified of what would happen if I really fought him. Because if I did… I’d have to use the power I’d been hiding for so long.
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, sensing something off in my hesitation. “Tch. You better not. I’m not here for some weak-ass fight. I’m here to win.”
_________
“Ready… BEGIN!” Present Mic’s voice boomed across the stadium, and before I could even process it, Bakugo was already moving.
His first explosion was so fast that my body reacted on instinct. I threw up a wall of ice—purple, shimmering like amethyst—just as his attack connected.
BOOM!
The ice cracked but held, though the sheer force of the explosion sent shockwaves through the arena. The crowd gasped, but I didn’t flinch. My mind was already calculating the next move. Defense alone wouldn’t save me here, not against Bakugo.
Before the ice even had time to settle, I flung my hand forward, sending razor-sharp shards of amethyst-colored ice in a sweeping arc toward him. But he was too fast. With a blast of his explosions, he propelled himself into the air, dodging them effortlessly.
“You think that’s gonna stop me?!” he barked, voice raw with intensity.
I gritted my teeth, frustration bubbling up inside me. He was relentless, just like I knew he’d be. And the longer this dragged on, the more I realized how impossible it was to avoid using it.
Bakugo came crashing down from above with another explosion, aiming right at me. I barely dodged in time, the heat from the blast scorching the ground where I had stood just moments earlier. He didn’t let up—every time I deflected one attack, he launched into the next, his movements faster, fiercer, forcing me back again and again.
Ice walls. Shards. Deflection. Over and over, I tried to keep up, but it was getting harder. My ice wasn’t enough.
And he knew it.
“Stop screwing around, Frostburn!” Bakugo roared, voice dripping with rage. “Fight me! I didn’t come here to watch you run!”
His words hit me harder than his explosions. He was right. I couldn’t keep dodging and blocking. If I wanted to win—no, if I wanted to survive this fight— My mind was consumed.
It wasn’t about this fight. It wasn’t about proving myself to Bakugo, or even surviving. I had to go all in—not for me, but for them. Hawks had made it clear: holding back wasn’t an option anymore. This was about protecting the people I loved.
I took a shaky breath, stepping back as the ice beneath me spread, freezing the ground in a wide radius. The air grew cold and biting, the temperature plummeting as my power surged. The crowd, once deafening, quieted, watching intently to see what was about to happen.
Bakugo noticed the shift. His eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. “What the hell are you doing?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I closed my eyes, digging deep within myself. Deep into the part of me I’d kept hidden for so long. The part I feared more than anything. It wasn’t just ice—it never was.
It was fire.
My breath hitched as I felt the familiar warmth, the one I’d suppressed for so long, flare to life inside me. The ice around my feet shimmered with lilac steam as the temperature dropped further, the clash of ice and fire within me creating a tension that I had spent years keeping in check.
Bakugo’s expression flickered—just for a second—as he realized something had changed. He knew me well enough to sense when I was about to cross a line I never had before.
But I couldn’t stop. Not now.
The ice cracked beneath me, shifting as something darker, more powerful, began to stir. My chest tightened as I let go, surrendering to the force I’d fought to contain. The part I feared would destroy everything around me if I couldn’t control it - again.
After what happened with Katsuki, I couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. The memory of his intense gaze and the warmth of his hand lingered in my mind. I was afraid someone else might have noticed me taking his hand. To avoid any more awkward encounters, I decided it was best to have some distance from Class 1-A for a while.
The last conversation with my father still echoed in my mind. If he found me standing alone somewhere, he’d probably launch into another speech about how Shoto or I had to become number one. If I’d go to Shoto, he probably wouldn’t talk to me anyway. With a deep breath, I made my way towards the stands, hoping to find my other siblings, Fuyumi and Natsuo. Watching some of the battles siblings who didn’t hate me, didn’t seem so bad in comparison. As I approached, I saw them waving enthusiastically.
“Y/N!” Fuyumi’s voice was filled with joy as she stood up, her smile brighter than the sun. “Over here!”
I hurried over, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Fuyumi pulled me into a tight hug. I stiffened slightly, I’m not much of a hugging person, but I didn’t want to upset her, so I let her embrace me. Natsuo gave me a firm pat on the back, and I felt a bit more at ease.
"You were amazing out there," Natsuo said, his voice full of pride. "That fight against Shinso was incredible."
"And Shoto’s match against Sero was something else," Fuyumi added, her eyes shining with pride for both of us. "I’m so proud of you two."
"Thanks, guys," I replied, feeling a warmth spread through me. "It means a lot to have you here."
_________
We settled into our seats, the noise of the crowd buzzing around us. I felt a sense of peace being with my siblings, away from the pressures and complexities of UA. As we watched the ongoing matches, Fuyumi and Natsuo continued to cheer enthusiastically, their support giving me a renewed sense of strength.
“Look at that move!” Natsuo exclaimed, pointing at the arena. “These kids are really something.”
Fuyumi nodded in agreement. “It’s amazing to see all these different Quirks in action. But I have to say, you and Shoto really stand out.”
We watched the fight between Midoriya and Kaminari, with Midoriya emerging victorious. Next, Mina faced Tokoyami, and Tokoyami won. Then it was Kirishima against Tetsutetsu, a clash of titans with their similar Quirks. I watched the fights of my friends closely and noticed that each one of them was really strong, more than you’d think after just seeing them train.
Fuyumi noticed how focused but uncomfortable I was as I watched the fights. She was confused about my behavior, as she knew me to be much more confident. She leaned in closer, her voice soft with concern.
“Y/N, are you okay? You seem a bit tense,” she asked, her eyes searching my face for answers-
I forced a small smile, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine, Fuyumi. Just thinking about a lot of things,” I replied, trying to sound casual.
Fuyumi looked at me, her concern still evident, but she nodded and turned her attention back to the arena.
But the truth was, the pressure from my father was immense, but I also had again the feeling of being watched and as much as I hoped it’d be Hawks, I remembered his words, “I won’t be there to watch out for you for a while.”
I tried not to be so obvious as I scanned the crowd, looking for anyone who might have their eyes on me or my family, but I couldn’t see anyone.
I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease and focus on the upcoming match between Ochaco and Bakugo. It was a fight I had been looking forward to, partly because of the way Bakugo had been acting lately and partly because I knew Ochaco was not to be underestimated.
__________
The atmosphere in the stadium shifted as the announcer called out the names of the next contestants. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, and I could feel my own heart rate increase as Bakugo and Ochaco stepped into the arena.
Bakugo’s usual confident smirk was plastered on his face, but I noticed a flicker of something else in his eyes – determination.
On the other hand, Ochaco looked also determined, ready to give it her all despite knowing everyone in the arena thought Bakugo would win easily against her. Her eyes were steely with resolve, and her stance exuded confidence. She had something to prove, not just to the spectators who doubted her but to herself.
As the match began, Ochaco immediately went on the offensive, using her Quirk to try and create an opening. She launched herself at Bakugo with impressive speed, but he countered with his explosive power, forcing her to retreat. The exchange was intense, both fighters displaying their unique strengths.
“She’s really giving it her all,” Natsuo commented, clearly impressed by Ochaco’s tenacity.
I watched closely, my eyes following every move. Ochaco’s strategy was clever; she was trying to get Bakugo to exhaust himself, dodging his attacks and using her agility to stay out of reach. But Bakugo was relentless, his explosions creating a constant barrage of pressure.
“You should have dropped out of the match, there is no way you can beat me!” Bakugo taunted.
Present Mic’s voice echoed through the stadium. “Whoa! She threw her jacket as a decoy. What incredibly quick thinking!”
Ochaco took advantage of the distraction, trying to get close to Bakugo, hoping to touch him so she could make him float. “This is my chance!” she muttered, determination clear in her voice.
But Bakugo noticed her approach and threw another heavy explosion her way, making her fly and nearly fall out of the fighting area. She caught herself just in time, the will to win still burning in her eyes.
I looked over to my classmates and noticed their terrified looks at Bakugo. His relentless attacks were causing quite a stir.
“Too slow!” Bakugo yelled, sending another explosion her way.
Ochaco didn’t give up. Whenever Katsuki launched an explosion in her direction, she tried to dodge or quickly get back up, hoping for the chance to finally touch him and gain the upper hand in the fight.
The crowd started whispering and some were cursing at Bakugo. They believed Bakugo was being ruthless, even sadistic, with his relentless attacks against Ochaco.
“Looks like she’s not resting between attacks, despite being exploded over and over again. Poor Girl!” Present mic sounded worried.
I tried to stay calm because, unlike the spectators, I saw what Ochaco was really up to. She was using the debris created by Katsuki’s explosions to her advantage, touching each rock that flew up from the arena floor. Every single rock she touched was part of her plan. She was preparing for one final, decisive attack – to bury Bakugo under a barrage of stones.
The spectators were growing impatient, their murmurs turning into louder demands for the teachers to step in.
“Listen kid, if you really wanna be a hero, you should stop acting like a bully!” one spectator shouted.
“This is shameful!” another added, their voice filled with disdain.
I glanced at Katsuki and noticed the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, despite his usual angry demeanor. The crowd’s accusations were getting to him.
“Stop toying with the girl and end this match!” someone else yelled.
More and more people were shouting and booing at Bakugo, demanding that he show mercy to Ochaco. Their misguided outrage fueled my own anger. They couldn’t see the respect he was showing her through his fierce combat.
I clenched my fists and felt the familiar chill of my Ice Flames as I subtly lowered the temperature around the spectator stands. The air grew so cold that those shouting couldn’t speak without their breath fogging up and their voices trembling from the chill.
“Y/N, stop, what are you doing?” Fuyumi whispered urgently, her hand on my arm.
But I couldn’t listen. Seeing Katsuki’s conflicted expression brought back memories of the public turning against me, wanting me to quit being a pro. I stood up, unable to contain my frustration.
“You call yourselves pros?” I laughed sarcastically, my voice cutting through the murmurs. “Because if you’re being serious, then give up your title.”
The spectators looked at me, confused and taken aback. For a moment, I considered sitting back down, but the something inside me wouldn’t let me. “Bakugo’s fierceness is an acknowledgment of his opponent’s strength!”
“Ms. Amethyst is right,” I heard Mr. Aizawa’s voice cut through the tension. “He knows she deserves to have made it this far!”
All eyes in the arena turned towards me as my hero name echoed through the stands. The realization spread – a former Pro Hero, the youngest and one of the best in history, was speaking. Now, due to the new law, I was here at UA to earn my hero license again.
“So, he’s making sure to do whatever it takes to keep her at bay and come out on top,” I continued, my voice steady and firm. “He’s showing her respect. And you pros should learn that too.”
With that, I sat back down, the cold air around us dissipating. The arena was silent for a moment before the focus shifted back to the fight. Ochaco was ready for her final move, her determination unwavering.
Ochaco let the stones she had touched fall, and the crowd gasped at her surprise attack. The debris plummeted towards Katsuki like a meteor shower. As the stones descended, Ochaco sprinted towards him, hoping to get close enough to make him float. Her eyes were set with determination, every ounce of her energy focused on this final move.
But Katsuki was ready. He held up his hand, supporting it with the other, and unleashed his biggest explosion yet. The blast was so powerful that it shattered the stones mid-air, sending shards flying in every direction. The force of the explosion was immense, and Ochaco was caught in the shockwave, sent tumbling across the battlefield.
“I figured you’d have some sort of stupid plan to beat me,” Katsuki sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re friends with that damn nerd, after all.”
Ochaco, Class 1-A, and most of the spectators were stunned and frightened by Bakugo’s overwhelming power. His display of strength was beyond anything they had anticipated. I glanced over to Shoto, who was standing with our classmates. Unlike them, Shoto remained calm and composed, his eyes focused on the fight, showing no signs of fear.
I turned my attention back to the battlefield and noticed Katsuki’s heavy breathing. He was clutching his left hand tightly, the familiar sign of his muscles cramping from overuse. Despite the strain, he wore a triumphant smirk.
Ochaco, showing incredible resilience, managed to get back on her feet. Her resolve was unbroken, but her body was clearly reaching its limit.
“Uraraka!” Bakugo bellowed, charging forward with another explosion ready in his hand.
But just as he prepared to launch his next attack, Ochaco collapsed to the ground, unconscious from the sheer exertion and impact of the battle.
Ms. Midnight quickly stepped onto the field, raising her arm to stop Bakugo. “Ochaco is knocked out. Bakugo advances to the second round!” she declared.
The announcement echoed through the stadium as medics rushed to tend to Ochaco. The crowd, though divided in their feelings towards Bakugo’s methods, couldn’t deny his victory.
__________
My siblings looked at me, still confused about my speech to the pros. As extroverted as I was, they never thought I would stand up for someone like Bakugo in front of so many people, especially since they also thought he was just a bully. Fuyumi couldn’t hide her grin.
I met their gazes and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. It was strange and slightly uncomfortable to be seen in this light by my own siblings. Fuyumi’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, clearly impressed by my unexpected outburst.
“Y/N, that was… something else,” Natsuo said, breaking the silence.
Fuyumi nodded, still smiling. “You really surprised us. We know how passionate you can be, but this was on another level.”
I shrugged, trying to downplay the moment. “I just couldn’t stand their ignorance. Bakugo may come off as a bully, but deep down he isn’t that bad. It’s something people need to understand.”
Fuyumi’s grin widened, and she gave me a playful nudge. “Looks like our little sister is growing up.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, though the embarrassment still lingered. It felt good to have their support, even if I hadn’t expected to be in this position.
__________________________
Amethyst. - MASTERLIST: click here
You want to learn to write better dialogue? Become a bitch who has whole conversations and debates in her mind all the time and you'll become a natural.
After my fight with Shinso, I walked back inside the arena to get to the lounge and rest. On my way up the stairs, I heard my father’s voice. I immediately pressed myself against the wall, hoping he would leave soon.
As I waited, I heard footsteps approaching from the opposite direction. I risked a glance and noticed Shoto walking towards the lounge to prepare for his match against Sero. Unfazed, he encountered Endeavor, who stood leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, waiting for Shoto.
Shoto halted in the hallway. “What do you want?” he asked our father.
Enji threw him a sidelong glance. “You’re acting disgracefully, Shoto.”
Shoto continued walking, trying to ignore Enji. “If you simply used the power in your left side, you would’ve had an overwhelming victory in both of the first rounds,” Endeavor continued. “It’s time to stop this childish rebellion of yours. Even your sister, Y/N, knows that with my training she’s getting far. But it’s a shame that your siblings aren’t half as talented as you, Shoto.”
Shoto clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as he walked past our father.
“You have a duty to surpass that imbecile All Might,” Endeavor said seriously. “You’re different from your siblings; you’re my greatest masterpiece.”
Shoto’s steps slowed, but he didn’t turn around. “Is that all you have to say to me, you bastard?” he replied angrily, not stopping. “I’ll win this match and advance using only Mom’s quirk. I won’t give you the pleasure of seeing me use yours.”
Endeavor noticed me as I tried to hide. I stepped out from behind the wall and watched Shoto walk away. I decided not to stop him or go after him to talk. I didn’t catch much of the conversation between my father and my brother, but I heard enough to know it was the usual argument about Shoto refusing to use our father’s power, and my father relentlessly trying to impose his will on Shoto.
“Can’t you let us be, Enji?” I asked, tiredly trying to walk past him and continue with my day.
“What was that?” he snapped, grabbing my arm and stopping me from walking past him. “I forbid you from talking to me in that tone, Y/N!”
As a child, I always felt fear—fear of Father’s gaze. I would hide behind Toya whenever he raised his voice against us, whenever our performances didn’t meet his expectations… but I couldn’t hide behind Toya anymore.
I shot him a sharp look. He stared at me as he noticed my eye color changing. My body emitted a cold mist. The arm he held began to freeze. Ice quickly spread from his hand to his forearm, up to his upper arm, and over his chest. Slowly, the ice continued to spread through his blood, and even though my father tried to counter it with his flames, he knew he couldn’t overcome my ice. Eventually, he finally let go of my arm.
I said nothing and continued walking.
“Stop this childish behavior and this deliberate attempt to lose. You’re a Pro-Hero; I’ve seen what you’re capable of. Stop bringing shame to our family.”
I turned to my father and shook my head. “The only one bringing shame to our family is you, Father.”
His eyes flashed with anger, but I didn’t flinch. I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, a cold mist still lingering in the air between us.
___________
As I walked away from my father, my heart pounded in my chest. Confrontations with him always left me drained, but I couldn’t let him control my life any longer. I took a deep breath and tried to shake off the encounter, focusing on the upcoming matches.
I headed towards the lounge, hoping to find some solitude before the next round. The hallways were buzzing with activity as students prepared for their fights, but I felt a strange sense of isolation. My mind kept drifting back to Shoto and the harsh words exchanged with our father.
When I finally reached the lounge, I found a quiet corner and sat down, closing my eyes for a moment. The voices and sounds around me faded as I tried to center myself. My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Hey, you okay?” I opened my eyes to see Denki Kaminari standing in front of me, his usual carefree expression replaced with one of concern.
I forced a smile. “Yeah, just… you know, family stuff.”
Denki nodded sympathetically. “I get it. Families can be tough.” He hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to me. “But you know, you’ve got us too. We’re like a big, dysfunctional family here.”
His words took me by surprise. Family? The concept seemed foreign to me, filled with warmth and support rather than the cold indifference and conflict I was used to.
“Family?” I repeated, a bit confused.
Denki grinned, the familiar spark returning to his eyes. “Yeah, you know, we’ve got each other’s backs. We might not be perfect, but we’re here for you.”
I felt a mix of confusion and a strange warmth. “Thanks, Denki. I… I appreciate it.”
I nodded, feeling a bit lighter. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
__________
We made our way to the viewing area, joining the rest of our classmates. Everyone took their seat; the only one left was next to Bakugo. I looked at him, while he seemed to ignore me. I sat down next to him.
I was confused by Bakugo’s behavior. Just a moment ago, he had been cheering me on during my fight. To be honest, I might have lost to Shinso without his words. So why was he ignoring me now?
Bakugo’s eyes were fixed on the arena, his jaw clenched. His body was tense, and I glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression was unreadable. His usual fiery presence seemed subdued, focused entirely on the match about to start. Turning my attention back to the arena, I heard the signal for Shoto’s match against Sero blare, signaling the start.
Mina sat behind Bakugo and me, with Kirishima and Denki next to her. She seemed to notice the confusion on my face as I glanced at Bakugo, puzzled by his sudden cold shoulder. She must have sensed my disappointment at his behavior.
“Hey Y/N,” Mina said, tapping me on the shoulder and leaning her head between Katsuki and me. “Your fight against Shinso was incredible!”
I managed a slight smile. “That was a close one.”
“Nah,” Kirishima chimed in. “We knew you’d pull through.”
Mina seized the opportunity, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You just needed the right words, don’t you think, Katsuki?”
Bakugo’s eyes flickered, and he finally turned to face us, his expression a mix of irritation and defiance. “Shut up, Pinky,” he snapped, his voice low but intense. “Focus on the damn match.”
At the beginning of the fight, Sero managed to wrap Shoto tightly with his tape, using his agility to his advantage. Shoto struggled momentarily, trying to break free as the tape restricted his movements.
“Apologies,” Shoto said, his voice calm but with an underlying current of anger.
Everyone in the stands stood up, sensing the shift in Shoto’s demeanor. As I saw the furious look in my brother’s eyes, I was taken aback. It was the same angry look that haunted my nightmares, the same look our father often had. For the first time, Shoto reminded me of Enji Todoroki.
With a burst of power, Shoto unleashed his ice, creating an enormous iceberg that towered above the arena in seconds. The spectators shivered as the temperature plummeted. Some were thrilled, others terrified. I was both impressed and concerned by the display of power from my brother, power I had never seen him use to this extent.
I watched with a mix of pride and worry as Shoto not only froze Sero but also encased the tape around his own body in ice. He then broke the frozen tape off himself, shattering it effortlessly.
Sero was confused, his eyes wide with shock. “Do-Don’t you think yo-ou went a bit overboard?” he stammered.
Ms. Midnight, partially encased in ice, addressed Sero. “Tell the truth, Sero. Can you move at all?”
“Are you kidding? Obviously not,” he replied, shivering. “My body is freezing.”
“Sero has been immobilized! Todoroki advances to the second round!” she announced.
Shoto began walking towards Sero, and I hoped he would accept his victory graciously and not continue to torment his opponent.
“Sorry about that. It was a bit much,” Shoto said, laying his hand on Sero’s chest. “I was angry, that’s all.”
As the crowd cheered, trying to uplift Sero’s spirits, my brother took a moment to melt the ice encasing his opponent. Watching him, I felt a deeper connection to Shoto than ever before. It was as if he wasn’t just freeing Sero from his icy prison but also starting to free himself from the emotional prison our father had created for him. Somehow, I could feel Shoto’s emotions as if they were my own. He was sad, and I wished more than anything to take away his pain, but I knew I didn’t have the strength, yet.
_________
While everyone around me was still admiring Shoto’s iceberg, I noticed someone staring at me. I looked to my left and my eyes met Katsuki’s. He gave me a quick glance before looking down at his arm, and my gaze followed his.
My eyes widened. During Shoto’s massive attack, I must have been so worried that I reached for Katsuki’s hand. But to my surprise, he was holding my hand too. As our eyes met again, I felt my face grow warm. A rush of conflicting emotions washed over me—embarrassment, confusion, and a strange sense of comfort. It was unexpected to find solace in Katsuki, someone who was usually so abrasive.
Katsuki scowled, his usual intensity back in his eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, clearly irritated.
I looked down, my face still flushed. “I’m sorry, Katsuki. I didn’t even realize… I was just… worried about Shoto.”
He huffed, crossing his arms. “Tch. Worry about yourself instead.” His face turned red too, and he quickly looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment.
As I released his hand, I couldn’t help but feel a lingering warmth where our hands had touched. It was strange to think that someone like Katsuki, who was usually so harsh and distant, could provide such a moment of unexpected support. It made me see him in a slightly different light, and I wasn’t sure how to process that.
Katsuki abruptly stood up and walked away, his steps quick and forceful. I watched him go, my heart sinking a little, thinking he was mad at me. But I couldn’t understand what had caused such a strong reaction.
Katsuki POV:
I was just as confused as she seemed to be. Seeing Shoto fight like that made me realize how badly I wanted to win and how much I had to go beyond to do so. During the match, I felt a feeling that came close to fear. Fear of not winning, fear of never becoming the number one hero. But when Y/N grabbed my hand, that feeling seemed to vanish and be replaced by a strange sense of warmth and calmness.
But my fight was next. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, not by her - not by anyone. I stood up abruptly, needing to clear my head. I could feel Y/Ns eyes on me, probably thinking I’m an asshole. I was confused and that confusion was pissing me off.
I glanced back briefly, seeing her still standing there, looking a bit bewildered. Something in me wanted to go back but instead, I just turned away, focusing on on the fight ahead was more important.
