Today was the Gala, the only reason you attended was because Todoroki had a habit of skipping these things, and you refused to let him avoid them forever.

He was different now. No longer the quiet, brooding teen from U.A., but a man who carried himself with calm confidence. His words were more measured, his presence more commanding. He had learned how to navigate the world of heroes, how to play the game without losing himself.

And yet, some things never changed.

Like the way his gaze sharpened when another man got too close to you.

It started as harmless conversation. A pro hero you’d worked with before, friendly and talkative, laughing a little too much at your jokes. His hand barely brushed your lower back as he leaned in, and that’s when you felt it.

A shift in the air. A sudden chill.

Then, a voice—smooth, steady, and unmistakably amused.

"You seem very comfortable."

You turned to see Todoroki standing beside you, one hand in his pocket, a glass of whiskey in the other. His expression was unreadable, but there was something behind his eyes—something sharp, something cold.

The hero chuckled awkwardly. "Ah, Todoroki, I was just—"

"Flirting with my girlfriend?" Todoroki finished for him, tilting his head slightly. "I noticed."

The man immediately tensed, scrambling to defend himself. "No, no, just a friendly chat—"

Todoroki took a slow sip of his drink, unimpressed. "Is that so? Because I could swear I just saw you touch her."

The other hero paled. "I—uh—"

Todoroki’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Relax. I’m not going to start anything. I just find it fascinating how some people confuse friendliness with opportunity."

The man laughed nervously. "Well, I should be going—"

"You should," Todoroki agreed smoothly.