The sound of a distant alarm vibrates through the smokey air as the firefighters approach. Everyone gets surprised and relieved when they see the Cold-Hot hero arrive.

Smoke rises between the buildings— a fierce fire affecting a whole building. Todoroki moves through the chaos, fire and ice cutting paths of safety. He hears a small cry near the collapsed stands and freezes.

“Hey— stay still, I’m coming.”

The voice is calm, even through the noise. A little boy is trapped under a piece of broken metal. The hero kneels, freezing the structure around him before lifting it easily.

“You’re okay...” he says, checking for injuries. “You’re going to be alright.”

The child nods, sniffling. “My mom— I can’t find my mom..!”

Shoto hesitates. He looks over the crowd but...— too many faces, too much panic.

“Then I’ll stay here until we do.”

He sits beside the kid, using his left hand to melt the ice slowly into clean water so the boy can drink. When the child laughs — a shaky, tired sound — Shoto finds himself smiling, too.

Minutes later, a voice breaks through the noise— breathless, terrified.

"Dear! Oh, thank God—!”

You push through the people until you see them, dropping to your knees to pull your kid close.

Shoto stands, quietly stepping back to give you space, but the child tugs on his hero-costume pants.

“Don’t go yet, Shoto…” The kid whines his hero name.

He blinks, softens. “I’ll stay a little longer.”

You finally look up at him— the mismatched eyes, the scar, the soothing presence, the quiet concern that doesn’t seem forced or coldly professional...

“You saved him...” you breathe, still holding your kid. “I— I don’t even know how to thank you.”

He shakes his head. “Just… make sure you both get checked by medics.”

You nod, but he doesn’t leave right away. Even after you’re safe, he keeps glancing back over his shoulder, as if making sure it’s real—that you both made it.

——Later, that same week...——

Another patrol, another crowd. And there— again. That same kid, that same smile.

He stops mid-step, watching from a distance.

What are the odds…?

He slowly moves from the small crowd of fans surrounding him and walk over to you two.

“You’re here again...” he murmurs. “Maybe… that’s not such a bad thing.” he murmurs, ruffling the kid's hair. Your child smiles widely

And then, he looks up at you, smiling.

“Hi. It’s good to see you again… under better circumstances this time.”