Shouto was used to the cold.
He felt it every time he used his Quirk, every time he summoned the ice beneath his skin. There was no warmth for him, not in a fight. He rejected the fire just as he rejected its source, and would do so till the day he died.
Shouto was used to anger.
He felt it bubbling inside every second he was in that man’s house, every comment about his use. There was no peace for him, because he had something to prove, and his rage only fueled his efforts.
Shouto was used to fear.
He felt it every time he heard heavy footsteps, every time he looked in the mirror and saw half of a monster. It gripped him during the night as he dreamed about the day he had gotten his scar, dug its claws into his very being every time he saw Fuyumi or Natsuo oppose that man, no matter how small the way.
Shouto was not used to loosing.
There was only one person who had ever defeated him, and he had worked to keep it that way. Only that man had ever beat him and one day that would change. He was going to be Number One without using his fire and he was going to win this tournament.
So why was he shaking?
…
Izuku was used to people underestimating him.
No one ever expected the bright-eyed young boy to be a threat, not when he looked like a strong wind could blow him over. They looked at him and saw a rabbit; fast and hard to catch, but ultimately prey.
Izuku was used to being hunted.
Ever since the day his father had died, he had been chased. Those who sought his power following him and his mother around the world in pursuit of them. The hunters were relentless, so he had to be as well.
Izuku was used to running.
Before he had learned anything else, he had learned how to flee. How to tell which battles were worth fighting for and which were best left behind. It was only natural after all, he did not want to be caught, so he ran. He ran like the rabbit they thought him to be because there was nothing in the world worth being caught, no treasure or goal equivalent to the pain of being captured.
Izuku ran, but he was not prey.
The world may have taught him to run, but his mother had taught him to fight.
She taught him to take down a man twice his size, which ligaments to cut so they couldn’t move. She taught him how to break bones as easily as breathing and leave bruises that would last weeks. It was her who had taught him to lie with a smile, to worm his way into the hearts of strangers with little more than a sob story and large watery eyes.
He knew fear intimately.
Izuku had been overpowered and afraid for his life more times than he cared to count. He had clawed his way to survival one day at a time with nothing more than his mind, skills, and a single ally.
Izuku had needed every drop of power and skill to stay alive, every inkling of knowledge and instinct drilled into him by a world that was not kind.
It was clear that the world had not been kind to Todoroki either.
The scar on his face was a testament to Endeavor’s malice, but for all of Todoroki’s trials, he had never needed his fire. He had never been pushed past the brink and forced to give more because that was the only option, that was his only chance of staying alive.
Because of that, he assumed that he never would, that what he had faced before was as bad as it could get, that his father was the worst thing out there. He assumed he could defeat others with half of his strength, because he had never needed all of it before.
So Izuku met each wave of ice with devastating power, crumbling his defenses until they were useless. Todoroki had never been afraid enough to use his fire, so Izuku would make him afraid.
…
People are not phoenixes, they are not reborn when they burn.
…
If Dabi had a list of people he had never expected to meet, he was pretty sure Hawks would have been pretty fucking high up there. Yet here he was, hovering on ridiculously red wings with one eyebrow cocked.
He immediately hated him.
“Hawks!” Ingenium exclaimed. “What are you doing in Hosu?”
“I was in the area.” Hawks said with a shrug. “Did you hit your SOS button on accident or something?”
“Stain attacked me.” Ingenium explained. “We managed to injure him, but unfortunately weren’t able to capture him.”
If he had let Dabi do what he’d intended, there wouldn’t be a need for capture. He would have gladly burned Stain for his hypocrisy.
“We?” Hawks questioned, landing gracefully on the ally floor.
Ingenium’s smile didn’t waver. “I had some help from…” he trailed off.
“Dabi.”
“From Dabi here. I authorized him to use his Quirk in the fight.”
He had done no such thing, but Dabi wasn’t about to complain. Heroes had the ability to authorize those without a Hero license to use their Quirks in a fight, something that would have severe consequences otherwise.
Another heat wave had him gritting his teeth, bringing the Heroes attention towards him.
“Do you have a water bottle?” Ingenium questioned. “He’s suffering from Quirk overuse and needs to cool down.”
Part of him grated that he was reduced to this pathetic mess on the ground, but he knew that if he tried to stand he’d land flat on his ass in less than a second, if he even got that far. If there was one thing the old bastard had taught him, it was how to recognise when he was having a heatstroke.
Hawks unclipped a metal water bottle and tossed it to him lightly, Dabi barely managing to catch it in his dazed state.
“Fire Quirk?” Hawks asked, tilting his head.
Dabi rolled his eyes. “How’d you guess?” he said sarcastically, gesturing to the scorched alley around them.
Hawks let out a laugh. “Fair enough.”
Ingenium brought his phone out. “I’ll radio my Agency and alert them to what happened. They’re probably going to need a statement from you, so if you could stick around for a little while that would be great.”
Dabi shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.” He paused. “You’re not going to make me tell you where I live, are you? I’ll tell the cops what happened with Stain, but I didn’t sign up for anything else.”
Ingenium waved his hand. “You won’t have to do that. A statement will be fine.”
“Good.”
Dabi felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, flight or fight instincts kicking in as he met gold eyes. Hawks’ gaze was sharp and calculating, and it took every ounce of self control he had not to twitch or light up.
It seemed that despite the Hero’s supposedly laid-back manner, he was far more than met the eye.
He very slowly and deliberately brought the water bottle to his mouth, allowing a slightly unhinged grin slip from his lips.
Would you like to burn as well?
…
Ochako had known Midoriya was powerful.
She had heard about how he’d fought with the Nomu and Shigaraki, not to mention every one of their physical Hero training classes. He was incredibly precise with his Quirk and had hand to hand combat skills that would make a black belt jealous. He was smart and never seemed to put more effort into things than he needed to.
But she had never seen him use his Quirk on this scale.
Todoroki, someone who seemed endlessly powerful was being forced back, step by step even as he sent glaciers after the Midoriya. The arena was littered with broken pieces of ice and there were deep grooves in the concrete. It was a battle of the titans, and part of Ochako wanted to close her eyes.
Midoriya sent some of the loose ice hurtling at Todoroki, forcing him to throw up a wall to defend himself and loose sight of where his opponent was. Never one to let an opportunity pass him by, Midoriya scaled the wall and dropped down so they were in close quarters.
Ochako had noticed throughout the fight that Todoroki seemed to need time to create his ice, so at close range he couldn’t go for full scale attacks.
Come on Midoriya.
…
Izuku had once fought a woman who could make it impossible to leave a ten-foot radius around her. She’d been absolutely terrifying and had hurt him so badly he hadn’t been able to get out of bed for a week.
She’d wanted his wallet.
Izuku had once fought a man who could create enormous lightning balls, but only eight feet away from himself. Couldn’t make so much as a spark closer than that, but at long range he was deadly.
He’d tried to kill him.
There were many reasons Izuku had ended up having to fight a person in close combat and could say will all honestly that as good as Todoroki was, he was a little underwhelming.
Not to say that Todoroki was bad-no he was surprisingly good for someone who seemed to rely heavily on his Quirk. It was clear he’d had some very good close combat training that would work against any untrained opponent.
Unfortunately for Todoroki, Izuku was not untrained.
It was easy to stay on his left side and slip under his guard. Todoroki was bigger and probably stronger than him, but he was faster and used to being out sized.
Izuku rammed his fist into Todoroki’s floating ribs before sweeping with the same sides foot. He went down but managed to roll away and onto his feet before he could take advantage of his tumble.
Todoroki was shaking from the cold, his expression twisted into an angry snarl. He was slower than begore, the lack of usage from his balancing fire side taking its toll. It was easy to break the small chunks of ice he kept trying to freeze him with, Fracture and Force push making easy work of the attempts.
Izuku was cold too, but had Inner fire activated constantly to make up for it. The Quirk wasn’t very powerful, but it managed to stave off the cold enough that it was unlikely for him to get hypothermia. His fingers and toes were numb, and he was glad he didn’t need to do anything complicated with them-punching and kicking didn’t count. It would be a pain to grab anything right now, and there was a good chance he had frostbite.
Todoroki attempted to create a cage around him, attempting to make more distance between them and bring them back to a range he was comfortable with. Izuku shattered the ice outwards, using the broken pieces to make a whirlwind around the other boy, forcing him to remain close or get cut up.
Time to finish this.
…
Shouto didn’t understand.
This-this shouldn’t be happening. He shouldn’t be pushed this far by someone who wasn’t That Bastard. Shouldn’t be struggling to move his numb limbs and force enough frigid air into his lungs.
Across their battlefield, Midoriya met his eyes.
They were frightening in a way Shouto didn’t know how to name, acidic in their colour yet so very dark.
When fighting his sperm donor, he knew he wouldn’t die, knew that his old man needed him alive and that no matter how much he pissed him off, he wouldn’t kill him. If That Bastard were capable of doing it, he would have years ago when Shouto had first started refusing to use his fire.
Death was not supposed to be a possibility in this tournament either. Shouto was too skilled, not to mention the plethora of Pro Heroes everywhere. He wouldn’t die.
So why did he feel as though his life were in danger? Why did he get the impression that Midoriya would bury him six feet under without hesitation?
It was eerie how silent Midoriya was, his posture and stance screaming a message but his mouth remaining firmly shut. Shouto wasn’t used to fighting silent opponents-his father constantly yelled at him and even the other students in U.A. talked.
But not Midoriya.
The greenette rushed him, neatly dodging the ice Shouto sent his way and mercilessly forcing him backwards. He was fast, faster than he could keep up with and-
And suddenly Midoriya was directly in front of him, their faces inches away from one another.
The air felt heavy with pressure, the noise from the stadium drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears.
There was a monster in that gaze and every instinct Shouto had was screaming for him to run, fight, something-anything to get away from him.
Midoriya wound his arm back for a strike.
I’m going to die.
The realization hit Shouto like a truck, his breath catching in his throat as his left side lit. He instinctively stepped back, fear driving him to get away from the monster.
RUN.
“TODOROKI IS OUT OF BOUNDS! MIDORIYA WINS!”
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