His gaze, a mismatched glacial blue and fiery grey, flickered towards me, then quickly away. "Morning," he mumbled, his voice as flat and toneless as the snowy landscape outside the UA dorm window.

Shoto Todoroki. My classmate, my friend, and a constant source of my own bewilderment. He was a walking paradox. He possessed the power of fire and ice, yet his emotions seemed perpetually locked in the deepest freeze.

We'd been partners for a collaborative hero project, tasked with developing a rescue strategy for a simulated blizzard. You'd think spending hours in such close proximity would thaw him out a little. We'd planned, practiced, and even bickered (mostly about the optimal temperature to melt an ice blockage without causing a flash flood). But still, there was this...wall.

"Morning," I chirped back, forcing a smile. I was determined to crack it. I'd seen glimpses, moments where a flicker of something warm crossed his features. A ghost of a smile when I made a particularly ridiculous joke, a furrow of concern when I'd tripped during training. They were fleeting, rare gems, but they were there.