Chapter Text
The echo of your footsteps bounced off of the concrete walls as you made your way through the dimly lit passage, hands balled into shaky fists. The ruckus of the crowd grew louder with each step, just like the jittery thrumming in your chest.
As you approached the end of the tunnel, you let out a slow breath and braced yourself for the overwhelming odds stacked against you. After all, you had the great misfortune of being matched against one of the strongest competitors in your class (who, worst of all, also happened to be the subject of your every daydream and late night fantasy).
You wiped your palms against your pants one last time and curled them back into tight fists. Pushing away at the jittery nervousness in your chest, you settled into a mask of faux confidence.
Let’s get this thing over with.
Keeping your stride even and smooth, you took that final step out of the tunnel and into the sudden, blinding brilliance of the arena. You squinted but resisted the urge to shield your eyes with your hand—you knew your quirk would adjust your vision in a couple of seconds anyway.
Despite trying to block out the audience in your periphery, it was impossible to ignore how massive and imposing the stadium now seemed. The attention of its thousands of scrutinizing spectators was no longer split amongst dozens of competitors like it had been in the previous two events. Instead, the eyes of the world were concentrated on this singular stage, salivating at the mouth for the fight that was about to take place. Yet another perk to your opponent being a minor celebrity.
Present Mic’s voice boomed throughout the arena, vaguely distorted as it echoed over the crowd. “Welcome to the ring, our first one-on-one match of the day!”
Right on cue, the audience erupted into cheers, the messy roar of their thousands of voices blurred together, threatening to knock you over like a tidal wave. Another spike of adrenaline coursed its way through your body. Thousands of eyes watching you here. Millions more watching at home.
“He’s the son of the #2 hero and way too strong for his own good. Equipped with flames and ice, from the hero course, it’s Shouto Todoroki!”
Across the way, Todoroki strode toward the center stage with his signature icy glare.
“Versus the girl built to adapt to anything you throw at her!”
I don’t know about that.
You steadied yourself anyway, head held high and mimicking your opponent’s confidence.
“The rules to win are simple: Immobilize your opponent, force them outta the ring, or get them to yield,” Present Mind explained.
“I’m not going to hold back,” Todoroki warned.
“I’d be offended if you did.”
Present Mic’s enthusiastic voice cut through your exchange. “Ready? Begin!”
Before you could move to attack, the temperature plummeted. You were shoved back, realizing half a second too late what was happening. All at once, you were covered in ice, limbs frozen into place, with only your head peeking above the surface of the glacier.
Teeth chattering so hard you felt you might break them, your exhale unfurled like smoke.
Too cold. Make it stop.
Unable to focus on anything other than Todoroki’s brutal frozen hold, there was nothing you wanted more than to break free. Luckily, he had unleashed a similar move when he had tried to freeze everyone at the beginning of the obstacle course. You had broken free then which meant your body knew how to do it again now.
Roughly two seconds later, your cheeks grew warmer as a mild fever started to take hold of your body.
“Can you move at all?” Midnight asked from the judging platform.
“Yes,” you said, as the ice closest to you started to melt, allowing you some wiggle room. You broke one of your hands free to prove your point.
But unlike last time, Todoroki was here, watching your every move, intercepting any attempts at progress. So, in response to your freed hand, Todoroki sent another wave of ice in your direction, refreezing the ice block you were stuck in. Steam began to rise from your extremities, as your temperature continued to climb, allowing you to free both of your arms faster this time, only for Todoroki refreeze you again in an instant. And so your temperature kept climbing as your body adapted to his persistence, to the never-ending cold he had to offer.
But the heat was becoming far hotter than you had ever dealt with before.
Stuck in an impossible loop, you knew your body wouldn’t stop trying to break free which meant Todoroki wouldn’t stop freezing and refreezing you. The dual pain of the fire and frostbite made it impossible to concentrate, panic beginning to take hold of you. You thrashed against your restraints as the rising heat in your chest started to suffocate you. Pushing back against your panic, you fought for control of your own body. But the heat intensified further, battling against your insides, desperate for an escape.
Forced into a coughing fit, some deep-rooted instinct took over, and you threw your head back just in time for the heat to rise through your throat, escape your lips, and singe the air, manifesting as a massive burst of steam. Heat collided with ice, and the glacier burst apart, sending debris and shattered ice all around you.
The thick, swirling clouds of dust and smoke obscured your vision, covering the arena like a dense early nightfall. Even though he had been just across from you moments ago, Todoroki was now lost amidst the shifting wall of gray. You could still hear the shuffle and murmurs of the crowd—bits and pieces of sentences, some theorizing what happened, some wishing you well, and some complaining about the obstructed view—but even as the smoke started to clear, their figures were far too distant to resemble anything more than muted, formless shadows.
You continued to cough, your breaths rasped and wheezed, as your body tried to rid itself of the lingering itch in your throat. Trying to regain your composure, you vaguely noted the sound of a pair of hurried footsteps pounding against the cement, each step growing closer, the blur of a silhouette cutting through the stillness.
Then a breeze sent a chill up your spine, and you stiffened, suddenly very aware of one terrifying new problem.
You glanced down, and your stomach plummeted.
This can’t be happening.
Your clothes, or rather, what was left of them, were barely clinging to your body. Some parts were more exposed than others, but all in all, there was very little left to the imagination. (And yes, that included the top part of your workout uniform, which was pretty much gone.)
Todoroki’s running figure grew clearer as more smoke faded and the dust continued to settle. Through the gaps in the gray haze, he caught a glimpse of your tattered clothing and came to an abrupt halt just a few feet short of you, his gaze lowering to your chest without thinking.
Eyes wide in horror at his actions, he whipped his head away in one sharp motion, blush dusting his cheeks, and a small flame suddenly alit in his hair. With one swift movement, he surrounded you with a tall, crescent-shaped ice wall.
The voices from the crowd grew louder.
“What’s going on?” someone called out from the audience.
“Is she okay?” someone else asked.
Next thing you knew, Todoroki was tugging off his shirt, revealing taut muscles that tensed with each footfall as he closed the distance between you. Your breath hitched at the sight: He was just so unfairly, so ridiculously beautiful. You gawked at him, your brain short-circuiting, as frozen in place and time as the day you first set your eyes on him.
“Ooh, she’s having a wardrobe malfunction,” someone in the crowd realized aloud, shaking you from your lust-induced trance.
“Here,” Todoroki said, finally reaching you. He kept his focus just off-center to avoid looking at you directly and turned away completely to give you privacy the moment you accepted his shirt.
You tried to thank him as you got dressed, but erupted into another coughing fit instead.
“Are you okay?” Todoroki asked over his shoulder, concern evident in his tone.
You tapped his arm to indicate he could look again, and shook your head when his eyes met yours. Pressing your other hand to your throat, you mouthed “Hurts.”
He furrowed his brow. “The match is over. Let’s get you to Recovery Girl.”
You nodded, following him beyond the ice wall. With a wave of his hand, he formed a frozen tunnel that extended to the exit.
Your gaze darted up to the photographers stationed at the entrance to the arena, their cameras pointed at you two, and Todoroki followed your line of sight. You tugged down at his shirt, since it just barely covered your ass, and Todoroki stepped out in front of you, arms extended as he tried to take up as much space as possible with his body. “Stay close to me.”
“So did he win?” a loud voice called from the crowd as the two of you ran past the cameras and slipped out of view.
Present Mic’s voice pierced through the noise in the stadium. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will review the footage while the robots clean up the arena for the next match. Stay tuned!”
When the two of you turned the corner to the infirmary, Recovery Girl was waiting in the hall, a folded gym uniform in her arms.
“I saw the whole thing. You poor dear,” she said, sympathy clear in her gaze as she handed you the uniform. “Here, put this on. You can change in there.”
You stepped into the bathroom, the light turning on automatically, and clicked the door shut behind you. Catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror— shit, jumpscare —you grimaced at how disheveled you looked. It was no wonder Recovery Girl had looked at you with such pity in her eyes. Since extreme adaptations like this one tended to drain your energy, you were visibly tired with sunken eyebags, a slouched posture, and a dull overall complexion, paired with remnants of charred residue on your face and hands. You washed up as best you could in the cramped bathroom, scrubbing away at the memory of your embarrassing display with equal amounts of force and soap.
Finally clean, you were just about to tug off Todoroki’s shirt when the serendipitous flipside to this entire situation dawned on you: Your crush stripped off his shirt on live television just to shield you from prying eyes!
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
What were the odds he had an extra shirt lying around, readily available, and you could keep this one forever? Alternatively, you could also just pretend his shirt vanished somewhere between here and where he seated himself ten feet beyond the door (“Your shirt? It’s gone, poof, vanished. I don’t know what to tell you.”)
Momentarily resisting the urge to be a total creeper (you lost near-instantly, by the way), you held up his shirt to your nose, testing to see if it smelled like him. The smell of ash from your own incinerated clothing lingered thanks to that stupid quirk of yours, but it didn’t overpower his scent entirely—some sort of rich boy cologne with top notes of dreamy pretty boy and base notes of way out of your league.
Eventually, you reluctantly took off his shirt and put on the new one Recovery Girl had given you. While you finished getting changed, you recognized the sound of Present Mic’s voice on the TV through the door.
”Ladies and gentlemen, we reviewed the footage and verified with the eyewitnesses stationed at ground level. It was a close one! Despite the ice tunnel blocking our film cameras, the photographers stationed next to the arena captured the moment both contestants stepped out of bounds. If you see here, Todoroki crossed the threshold right before she did, and since our girl broke free of his ice prison and didn’t officially yield, the match wasn’t over! Todoroki loses on a technicality!”
Your heart sank. You never thought being declared the winner would feel this gutting.
Fully clothed again, you burst open the door with enough force for it to bang against the wall, causing the only other patient there—a sleeping General Studies student who had been injured during the obstacle race—to stir a few beds over. Recovery Girl arched an eyebrow at you in silent warning not to do that again, but you were too preoccupied with the current injustice to feel bad over almost waking someone up.
Todoroki’s usual stoic mask had slipped, the turmoil in his eyes revealing his surprise and devastation at the judges’ decision, and telling you all you needed to know: You had to do something to fix this.
Panicked, you gestured to Recovery Girl that you needed something to write with. She handed you a notepad and a pen, and you quickly scribbled out a note to show her: “The ice blocked the cameras. I did yield. I lost the match.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Dearie, if you can’t speak right now, how did you yield?”
Brows furrowed, Todoroki tilted his head upwards, scanning his memory for the moment you were referencing and not quite remembering it because it didn’t happen.
Another note: “I mouthed it.”
She read over your note, clearly not fully convinced, so you doubled down, scribbling yet another message: “Please. He won. They made a mistake. Can you let them know?”
That statement definitely wasn’t a lie. You knew he was the true winner.
She searched your eyes for a hint of deception. Finding none, she sighed, “Okay, dearie. I’ll tell them. Be right back. I need to make a call.”
After she stepped out, Todoroki looked up at you from where he was seated, a serious look on his face. “I don’t remember you yielding.”
You penned your response: “I didn’t. Not officially. But we both agreed the match was over.”
He glanced at the sleeping student and lowered his voice. “The judges decided you could have kept fighting.”
You suspected that having Midnight as one of the judges was a major contributor to this verdict. You remembered reading once that in the early days of her career, the R-rated hero’s original costume consisted of boots, a trench coat, a strategically placed utility belt and well, that was pretty much it. So if there was anyone who could fight in next to nothing, it was her. But, unfortunately, you did not share her unwavering confidence.
Pushing the thought out of your mind, you held up another note for Todoroki: “Naked on live television? No, thank you. I’d like to leave some things to the imagination.”
When he finished reading, his eyes flicked up to you, where he kept his gaze fixed while he mulled something over in his mind. “This isn’t just because we’re—” He paused when the Gen Ed student shifted in his sleep. “—friends, right?”
Picking the pen back up, you added: “Todoroki, we both know you won. I’m just righting a wrong.”
“Okay then.” His eyes met yours. “Thank you.”
You held up your reply: “No, thank you for your quick thinking and your ice walls and your shirt and everything. I owe you one.”
He shook his head, pushing on his knees to stand. “No, you don’t. Get some rest so Recovery Girl can heal you.” He took back his shirt. (Devastating.) “I need to prepare for my next match.”
That’s when the door swung open behind him. Without a second's hesitation, your closest friends crossed the room, filling it with chatter and concern. They gathered around, immediately fussing over you.
“What happened out there?” Tooru asked, the fabric of her uniform shifting as she examined the extent of your injuries.
Since the alternative would be to talk directly to her shirt, your gaze shifted to where Tooru’s face would be. Unfortunately, her invisibility made the match happening on the TV behind her difficult to ignore, especially since Sero had just barely dodged one of Iida’s quirk-fueled kicks.
Mina spoke before you had a chance to answer Tooru, pulling your attention back to the conversation. “That burst of steam was insane! For, like, half a second, we thought Todoroki actually used his fire and lost control." She glanced back at him. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he responded in that usual serious, quiet voice of his.
“We’d never seen your quirk react like that. Ribbit,” Tsu added.
Ochako gently squeezed your hand, offering you a warm, reassuring smile. “That looked intense. How are you feeling?”
While you worked on penning a response in the midst of the frenzy, Todoroki quietly made his way to the exit. But right when he was about to leave, he stopped at the threshold of the door and turned back to call your last name.
Your name sounded so pretty coming from his lips.
“I’ll come back and check on you later,” Todoroki informed you, and then he was gone before you could reply.
“Oh, so he’s gonna check up on you, huh?” Mina’s eyebrows shot up with a knowing smirk. “How…interesting.”
You shook your head, quietly willing her to drop whatever crazed theory she was starting to form in her mind.
“So, what was it like to wear his shirt fresh off his back?” Tooru whisper-squealed now that Todoroki was hopefully out of earshot.
You combed your memory for the answer, squinting at the hazy replay of the events in your head. You held up your response: “Not sure. I think I blacked out a little.”
“You’re stronger than I am. I would have fainted if it had been me,” Tooru said, fanning herself.
That’s when Recovery Girl walked back into the room, cutting the conversation short. “Now girls, she’s tired. We should let her rest.”
“Okay,” Mina pouted.
“Let us know if you need anything,” Tsu said.
“We’ll see you soon, okay?” Ochako added and the others waved goodbye.
You mouthed “Thank you” to Recovery Girl and she responded with a smile and a knowing nod.
You laid down on one of the infirmary beds, determined to stay awake long enough to hear UA announce the official change for your match results.
Luckily for you, a minute or so later, Present Mic’s voice was on the TV again. “Ladies and gentlemen, there’s been a mistake. We were just informed that Todoroki stepped out of bounds because his opponent had already yielded. Goes to show you folks, you can have some of the best cameras in the world and they still won’t catch everything. Anyway, for our next match-up, we’ve got a guy who hasn’t really done anything impressive yet. From General Studies, it’s Hitoshi Shinsou! Versus the dynamic inventor bursting with ingenuity! From the support course, it’s Mei Hatsume! Third match, go ahead and—”
You clicked off the TV.
Fighting for Your Lives at the USJ: An Unexpected Meet-Cute feat. Todoroki’s Perspective
One Month Prior
USJ: The Landslide Zone
“Divide and conquer, huh?” Shouto asked.
The dark tendrils of the warp portal dissipated from view, leaving Shouto and you standing side by side, bodies tense as you faced down a cluster of villains standing just a few feet away. Their hands held a deadly assortment of weapons—sharpened blades and pitchforks, electric shock batons, thick ropes, and heavy chains—and a shiver of cold realization crept into Shouto’s mind: Not only did they have no intention of letting the two of you out of here alive, their weapons expressed a clear, brutal intent to make the journey there extraordinarily painful.
"Looks like we've got ourselves some fresh meat," sneered one of the villains brandishing an oversized knife, his voice dripping with malice. “Slicing you up will be fun.”
Another villain holding a set of chains looked past Shouto and directly at you with a sadistic grin, the metal links clinking as he repeatedly pulled the chains taut. “Leave the girl to me.”
Shouto stepped in front of you with a protective look in his heterochromatic eyes and put one arm out, wordlessly warning you to stand back.
Then, before any of the villains could make their move and make good on their threats, Shouto froze them all in an instant, quickly changing their malicious smiles to faces of utter horror.
“He’s not a hero!” a spikey-haired one said from his ice prison, lips shivering. “He’s a monster!”
“Funny,” you said, moving up to stand beside Shouto, your arms crossed in front of your chest. “Considering you're the ones who came here to hurt us.”
“You should be embarrassed that it took one student to defeat you all,” Shouto said, a sharp, angry edge to his voice.
Yet, off to the side, one of the villains started to break free, steam rising from him as the amber substance covering his body ate away at Shouto’s ice. The villain freed one of his arms and sprayed the liquid directly at the two of you. Shouto, quick to react, summoned an ice barrier to shield you both, but it was clear this defense wouldn't hold for long against the villain's quirk. As the ice wall started to succumb to the heat from the ongoing attack, some of the amber substance splattered nearby and Shouto immediately recognized the smell in the air.
Gasoline.
Shouto summoned another ice barrier to buy precious seconds while he grappled with how to handle the situation. Clearly, the villain was capable of heating the gasoline to a boiling point, which meant he could keep disintegrating Shouto’s ice. The gasoline itself was vaporizing rapidly as it came into contact with the ice, but that meant the vapors lingering in the air were creating a highly flammable environment. So, even if Shouto wanted to break his self-imposed rule and use his fire quirk in combat, it could result in a massive, potentially fatal explosion.
During Shouto’s moment of hesitation, you darted over to the small pool of gasoline that had landed nearby. You kneeled down and lightly pressed two fingers into the steaming substance, gritting your teeth against the searing pain as you counted, "One . . . two . . .”
Shouto watched with a mixture of stunned awe and concern. “What are you doing?”
“Three. . . four." You pulled your injured hand away, clutching it to your chest with a shaky breath, eyes closed, and then a barely perceptible ripple cascaded along your body, signaling the completion of your quirk's adaptation to the heat, the tension in your shoulders dissipating with an exhale of relief once it did. Turning back to Shouto, you clenched your uninjured hand into a tight fist and said, “I’ve got this one.”
You charged headfirst at the villain, unflinching when he tried coating you with a layer of the boiling liquid. Taking advantage of his stunned reaction, you executed a perfect leg sweep, sending the villain crashing to the ground. Before he could even think to retaliate, you followed up with a devastating axe kick to his head, the impact reverberating through the air. The villain's eyes rolled back, and he slumped to the ground, threat neutralized.
As the adrenaline of the moment faded, Shouto's attention fell to the red and blistered skin of your injured hand, recognizing the tell-tale signs of a second-degree burn, something he was, unfortunately, intimately familiar with.
“You’re hurt,” Shouto said, his usual composed expression softening into something laced with concern, maybe even regret. Wishing he had something to tend to your wound and ease your pain, he made a quiet mental note to add first aid supplies to his hero costume. He wouldn’t be caught under-prepared again. Equal parts frustrated and disappointed, he added, “I should’ve been able to handle them all by myself.”
Surprise flickered across your face. “Hey, I’ll be okay, so don’t worry about me.” A beat passed while you processed the rest of what he had said. “You know you don’t have to fight alone, right? We’re in this together.”
For a moment, Shouto hesitated, as if weighing your words. Then, with a small, determined nod, he replied, “Okay.”
“Good. Now let’s figure out what they want with All Might.”
For a fraction of a second, the chaos of the ongoing USJ attack seemed to fade, becoming a distant, muffled afterthought as Shouto’s attention fixated on you. His eyes narrowed slightly, a tiny crease forming between his brows as he watched you, something shifting within him.
Given Shouto’s reserved nature, the two of you hadn’t exchanged more than a passing glance since the start of the semester, making this your first real interaction. But now, you were no longer just another classmate at the edge of his periphery. You were someone fighting alongside him, someone, he was now realizing, he felt inexplicably drawn toward. It wasn’t the fact that you were very pretty, nor a fascination with your quirk, though both had certainly caught his attention. No, there was something else. Something unspoken, difficult to articulate yet impossible to ignore, that tugged at the edges of his thoughts, sparking a quiet curiosity within him.
What surprised him most was how, despite having barely moved past being strangers, he felt a strange familiarity with you like a distant, hazy memory he couldn’t fully recall, or a song he somehow knew without ever hearing. There was a murmur of recognition deep in his chest, whispering that he knew you from somewhere, or, perhaps even more bizarre, had been waiting to meet you all along.
Whatever it was, it didn’t make sense, but this clearly wasn’t the time for any more distractions. He shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze, and refocused his attention on the immediate priority: Defeat the rest of the villains and make it out alive.
Deciphering the mystery of what these budding feelings were would have to wait, for now.
Present Day
You woke up a little later, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Across from you, the TV on the wall was back on, still tuned in to the Sports Festival, but muted with the subtitles on. From the look of it, they were on the last match of the second round: Midoriya vs. Mina.
The purple-haired boy you had teamed up with earlier for the cavalry battles (Shinsou, was it?) was laying on another bed in the infirmary, his tired eyes locked on the screen. You shifted your weight to sit up, and his eyes drifted over to you.
“Oh, you’re awake. The guy you fought dropped something off for you.” He gestured beyond you to a little to-go cup sitting at your bedside.
You reached for it, surprised to find it was still hot to the touch. Did that mean Todoroki had just been here? Rotating it, you found two little sticky notes pressed delicately to its sides—your name followed by “Drink after healing” on one side and “Get well soon. - Shouto” on the other—both written in handwriting so perfect it looked typed.
When you picked it up to smell the contents (some sort of tea, unclear which), Shinsou said, “You know, I can’t believe you broke free from the ice. It’s a bummer you still lost though.”
You started to open your mouth to respond, but remembered your injury. Shaking your head, you held up your hand to gesture for him to give you a minute. Glancing around, you looked for the pencil and writing pad you had been using. Recovery Girl must have moved them when you had fallen asleep.
“I’m not using my quirk right now. I promise if you talk, you won’t get brainwashed,” he said, and something in his tone sounded defensive? Hurt? You weren’t quite sure.
Truth be told, your quirk worked well for defense when it came to protecting you and only you, but lacked attack applications. So, you had understood why in the spirit of competition, your friends had prioritized teaming up with the strongest allies possible during the cavalry battles (Ochako had joined Midoriya, Tsu went with Shouji, Mina teamed up with Bakugou, Todoroki handpicked Iida, Kaminari, and, of course, Yaoyorozu, etc.)
So you had joined Shinsou’s team willingly during the frenzied free-for-all, your tone almost apologetic when you had explained the limited contribution your quirk could offer in that context. It wasn’t until Shouda publicly withdrew from the tournament that you realized he and Aoyama had been brainwashed. However, since Shinsou hadn’t used his quirk on you, you felt no reason to be wary of him now.
You scribbled quickly in your notebook and raised it for him to see. “Quirk fried my vocal cords. Physically can’t talk.”
“Oh man, and I thought I was having a rough day. What kind of quirk backfires on their user like that?”
You scribbled your response, fully aware it was a rhetorical question, and showed him the notepad again. “A stupid one.”
He laughed, not expecting that answer from you. “Maybe all of you heroics kids aren’t quite so lucky,” he said like it was some surprising revelation.
“Me? Lucky? Never.” You shook your head, shuddering at the replay of your match in your head, before writing another note for him to read. “But why are you in the infirmary?”
“The guy I beat set off an explosion in my face after our match. He didn’t handle the loss well. I’m just resting now until it’s time for my next fight.”
You lifted your notepad: “Bakugou?”
“Bakugou.”
Did you hear him right? Bakugou lost?
Another note: “How did you beat him?”
At that, Shinsou smirked. “He’s really easy to piss off.” Then he pushed himself off of the bed right as Midoriya defeated Mina on the TV, sending her flying out of bounds with a flick of his fingers. “That’s my cue. I’ve gotta go.”
You quickly wrote out the kanji for “Good luck” on your notepad and held it up for him to see.
“Thanks. Feel better,” he called over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold to leave.
The door clicked shut and you were alone again with nothing more than the background flicker of the TV and your own thoughts to keep you company.
You reached for the tea Todoroki had brought you, reexamining it all over again.
It was strange to think about the dizzying contradiction he could be. The day had started with him practically declaring war on Midoriya, his cold attitude making it clear he wasn’t there to make friends.
And yet, a few hours later, Todoroki was leaving you handwritten notes, wishing you well, and bringing you tea to soothe your throat. His actions didn’t quite match up with the stoic exterior he usually displayed with most of the class, and somehow, despite all the time you had spent together, there were still parts of him you hadn’t quite been able to piece together.
The reality was you had been trying to figure him out since the moment you met him, and even now, there was still so much unexplored territory, so much mystery left to uncover behind the enigma that was Shouto Todoroki.