You were just supposed to drop off some forms for Aizawa. That’s it. Two minutes in, two minutes out.

But the universe clearly had other plans, because Shoto was already waiting in the hallway when you turned the corner—standing there like he’d memorized the exact second you’d show up.

“Oh,” you blinked. “Hey. Were you—waiting?”

“A little,” he said honestly. His eyes flicked down to your hands, like he was checking if you were carrying anything. “I wanted to give you something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You keep giving me things. Pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“Is it?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“It was a joke, Shoto.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Then… good.”

He stepped forward and held out a small navy-wrapped box. You recognized the clean corners instantly—he wrapped it himself.

And the funny part? You already knew why he had it. Class 1-A had been whispering about it for days. Kaminari had not been subtle. Mina had winked at you three separate times. Yaoyorozu was suspiciously proud. They all knew you liked Shoto. You weren’t a UA student, just Aizawa’s kid who visited sometimes, but… the entire class had decided you were practically one of them anyway.

You opened the box carefully—and your breath caught.

A necklace. Silver, delicate. A charm that was half-flame, half-snowflake, perfectly balanced.

You could practically hear Kaminari’s voice: “No bro she’ll love that one—trust me.” And Mina bragging: “I helped pick the design, thank me later.”

“Shoto…” you whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said softly. “I thought it suited you.”

Then: “May I… put it on you?”

Your heart literally jumped. “Yeah. Okay.”

You turned and lifted your hair. His fingers brushed your neck—light, careful, almost shy. The clasp clicked softly, and he let his hands fall away.

“It looks good on you,” he murmured.

You faced him again, cheeks warm. “Thank you. Really.”

And then—of course—Aizawa appeared.

You didn’t even have to look. You felt the dad-energy radiating behind you.

Shoto straightened like he’d been electrocuted.

Aizawa stared at him with the exhausted judgment of a man who had raised a whole class of chaos gremlins.

“Todoroki.”

“Good afternoon, sir,” Shoto said, voice suddenly way too formal.

Aizawa crossed his arms. “She’s off-limits until she’s thirty.”

“Dad!” you groaned, covering your face.

Aizawa didn’t blink. “Thirty.”

Shoto looked him in the eyes and, in true Shoto fashion, took it seriously. “Understood. But… I’ll still treat her with respect. Always.”

Aizawa’s eyebrow twitched. He sighed, muttering under his breath about “teenagers” and “headaches,” and walked past you both.

“I’ll be in the staff room,” he said. “If either of you even think about making this my problem, don’t.”

He disappeared around the corner.

You let out a breath. “Sorry. He likes scaring people.”

“I don’t mind,” Shoto said. “He’s your father. I respect him.”

“Even when he threatens to ban you from dating me for fourteen years?”

He paused.

“…Yes.”

You laughed softly, fingers brushing the necklace. “Thanks again. Really.”

Shoto’s expression warmed, like he couldn’t help it. “I’m happy you like it.”

Neither of you moved away. You didn’t want to.

The hallway felt quiet and warm, the kind of moment where the air shifts because something between two people has.

And maybe you weren’t a student, and maybe you had no quirk, and maybe Aizawa wanted to bubble-wrap you until you were 30—

But when Shoto glanced at you and murmured,

“Can I walk you out?”

—your heart still went boom.