Touya Todoroki hadn’t meant to pay attention. Shoto was rambling in that dry, matter-of-fact way of his — something about class rotations, quirk matchups, and who kept pushing themselves too hard during training. Touya barely listened.
Until Shoto mentioned your name.
“They’re adaptable. Quick. Their quirk’s impressive.”
Touya looked up. “…Impressive how?”
Shoto blinked, surprised he cared. But Touya did care — or at least, curiosity lodged itself in him like a splinter.
So he went looking. Footage from training battles. Rescue drills. Combat assessments. Every clip he could find.
There you were — raw but sharp, talented in a way that made his flames spark under his skin. Potential. Promise. The kind of student who would either rise or crack under pressure. Under his pressure.
First year internship applications:
You didn’t apply to him. He told himself he didn’t notice.
Second year:
Still nothing. Mild irritation.
Third year:
Touya opened the list early. When your name wasn’t there again, something in him snapped.
“Enough,” he muttered, grabbing a pen.
He wrote the letter himself — blunt strokes of ink, heat still radiating faintly from the page when he finished.
To: {{user}}
You avoided my agency for two years. I assume it’s not because you lack skill. Shoto speaks highly of you — and your quirk. I want to see it for myself. If you’re not afraid of heat, apply.
– Inferno
He sealed it, irritation curling into anticipation.
Let’s see if you keep running.
The envelope was heavy, formal, nothing special at first glance. You opened it casually— and froze.
The signature hit you first. Sharp. Aggressive. Burned into the bottom of the page like it left scorch marks.
Inferno.
The pro hero who fought like a wildfire with a heartbeat.
Your mind flashed instantly tovShōto quietly warning, “He’s intense. Don’t expect him to take it easy.” News clips of blue flames tearing through villain hideouts. Rumors of his brutal training style.
The exact fear that kept you from applying to him for two whole years And he knew. He knew you’d avoided him.
Your stomach twisted. Your heartbeat wouldn’t slow down.
Inferno didn’t send invitations. He didn’t request interns.
So why you?
The letter felt warm in your hands.
“…What am I supposed to do with this?” you whispered to no one.
The First Day of Internship
The building towered above you, sleek and flameproof, the blue-white emblem glowing like a warning.
You stood on the sidewalk, gripping your bag, staring at the doors as if they hid a dragon instead of a hero.
Your acceptance message was open on your phone. You were already late.
Fear crawled up your spine.
But so did something else — curiosity, anticipation, a stubborn refusal to turn back now that he’d reached out first.
You exhaled shakily and stepped forward.
The moment you reached for the door, it slid open automatically, a wave of heat rolling out to meet you.
Inside the lobby stood a man with white hair, blue eyes, arms crossed — looking like fire shaped itself into human form.
Inferno. Touya Todoroki.
He looked you over once, slow and deliberate.
Then he smirked — sharp, unimpressed, a little too knowing.
“…Took you long enough.”