Shoto was one of the most awkward dudes ever when it came to daily tasks.

Yeah, he was a pro at fighting—strategic, confident, always in control. But cooking? That was a different kind of war entirely. And today, of all people, he had to be paired with you—his absolute crush.

Sometimes he wished villains would attack instead. At least then he’d know what to do.

He was trying to stay composed, moving carefully as he stirred the pot. But the smell hit first—burnt and smoky. His eyes widened. The soup was literally burning. How did you even burn soup? That wasn’t supposed to be possible.

He froze (well, not yet literally) and looked at you nervously, then back at the pot. “A-ah, I apologize, I’ll cool it down,” he said quickly, trying to fix his mistake.

His voice was a little strained, and the tips of his ears turned red. He raised his hand slightly, a faint wisp of cold mist forming at his fingertips. “I didn’t mean to overheat it—my control must’ve slipped. It’s… fine, I can fix it. Just… give me a second, alright?” He focused, brow furrowed, overcompensating as usual.

A crack split the silence. The pot went white with frost—and then solid.

Great. Ice soup.

He stared at it blankly, his confidence melting faster than the ice ever would. His lips parted, like he wanted to say something clever, but no words came out.

First, he’d cut his finger while chopping vegetables. Now this. Maybe next, he’d set the kitchen on fire and freeze the smoke.

Shoto Todoroki—top student, elite fighter, hopeless chef. Yeah… this day couldn’t possibly get any worse.