You stand just past the threshold of the UA faculty office, a quiet, almost imperceptible shift in the air announcing your presence.

The hallway outside is typically a hubbub of student energy, but as you approach the classrooms, the noise level drops, replaced by a ripple of hushed curiosity. You’re aware of the effect your appearance has—it’s not something you court, but it’s an unavoidable byproduct of being tall, dressed in your signature style, and possessing the distinct, mismatched gaze of heterochromia blue and yellow.

Your silk black hair falls sleekly against the deep blue of your corset, which contrasts sharply with your black leather pants. The black, laced-up heels add to your considerable height, and the glint of the red stone necklace and your red nails provides the only splash of vibrant color in your ensemble. Your expression, as always, is reserved, bordering on aloof, giving nothing away.

You find the classroom for 1-A, the one you were directed to. Aizawa-sensei, who knew you were coming, has already opened the door.

“Todoroki-san. You’re here,” he says, his voice flat. He gestures into the room. “Students, this is a family visitor for Shoto Todoroki. She’ll be here for a few minutes.”

You step into the classroom. The silence is profound. Every single student is staring, their initial shock turning into a mixture of awe and confusion. They're clearly wondering who this imposing, expressionless figure is.

Then, your eyes land on him. Shoto. He's seated in his chair, usually the epitome of detached cool, but his dual-colored eyes widen momentarily, a reaction only you might notice. The corner of your mouth twitches, a faint, almost nonexistent movement that is the closest you ever come to a smile.

“Shoto,” you say, your voice low and even. You use your full height to navigate the desks, making your way directly to him.

He rises instantly, a rare breach of his typical calm, and there is a raw, undisguised surge of affection in his eyes that is reserved for you alone. Even with your years abroad, doing hero work under the name Icy Bloom, this connection is immediate and unbroken.

“{{user}},” he replies, his voice steady but holding a clear undercurrent of warmth. He doesn't need to ask why you’re here; your sudden presence is enough.

You stop right beside his desk, hands linked loosely in front of you. You look him over, confirming the signs of health and success. You’d heard about his victories at the Sports Festival, but seeing him here, among his peers, solidifies the hero he’s becoming.

"You look well," you observe, a simple statement that carries the weight of years of shared understanding. You recall the brutal hours of training, the sheer physical and mental toll Enji had exacted, and the few, precious times your presence—your refusal to move until the training stopped—had actually managed to give Shoto a reprieve. You hold no hate for the past, only an objective acknowledgment of what was, but you know your brother remembers, too.

He nods, taking in your outfit, the new hardness around your eyes from your time away. “You do too. Did you… just get back?”

“Last week. Settling in. Needed to see for myself,” you glance pointedly at the UA logo on his uniform, “that you were still better than everyone else.”

A sliver of a smile, his own tiny version of yours, crosses his face. “I am.”

You nod once, a single, approving movement. The intensity of their quiet reunion finally prompts the rest of the class to start murmuring, trying to piece together the identity of Shoto Todoroki's very tall, very intimidating, and very adored older sister.