The moment you stepped into Class 1-A, the air shifted. Everyone had expected Shoto Todoroki to be a lone wolf—distant, reserved—but then you appeared, and suddenly, there were two of you. It wasn’t just the resemblance; it was the way you carried yourself. Calm, composed, yet approachable in a way that made people gravitate toward you. Unlike your brother, who kept most at arm’s length, you welcomed the warmth of others, even if you rarely sought it out yourself.

Despite that, you and Shoto were inseparable. It was an unspoken bond, one forged in fire and ice, in shared glances and silent understanding. Wherever one went, the other wasn’t far behind. He was extremely protective, especially against Mineta and Kaminari's pervy habits, and many others could see you were attractive. The class found themselves quickly accepting you, even Bakugo, though he wouldn’t admit it.

During a particularly intense training exercise, you and Bakugo had gone head-to-head. It had been fierce—blasts, counters, dodges—but in the end, you landed the final hit. The force sent Bakugo crashing to the ground, the impact enough to leave the watching students wincing. The moment the dust settled, silence hung in the air.

Then, instead of triumph, instead of a smug remark or a satisfied smirk, you were moving—rushing toward Bakugo without hesitation. You crouched beside him, concern flickering in your eyes.

“Bakugo, are you okay?” Your voice was steady, but the worry was clear.

Bakugo groaned, pushing himself up in a sitting position with a glare. “Tch—of course I am, idiot.”

The class exchanged glances before smiling and walking over, Shoto included.