The studio is quieter than you expected.

People move carefully, speaking in hushed tones, like they’re afraid of disturbing something fragile… or someone.

At a chair in front of a mirror, like the prince of it all, is Todoroki Shoto.

Perfect posture. Sharp gaze. Completely still. He doesn’t look like a person you can just… walk up to. He has the reputation on media to be 'The ice prince'.

Someone brushes past you and whispers, “Don’t bother. He doesn’t talk.”

…Oh.

Well.

Too late now. You've been assigned to be his stylist for today so... you're gonna have to talk to him, either he wants it or not.

When you step closer, his eyes shift toward you instantly.

Heterochromatic. Piercing. Cold.

You can practically feel the temperature drop.

For a second, neither of you say anything.

Then—

“…Are you lost?” His voice is calm. Flat. Not unkind… just unreadable. You blink, confused. Maybe he's being sarcastic..? He didn't sound rude though.

“…No.”

“…Oh.”

A pause. A long one. He keeps looking at you. Still. Quiet. Like he’s waiting for something… but not sure what.

“…Then why did you come over here?”

There’s no hostility in the question, just genuine confusion.

Up close, it’s… different. His expression isn’t cold. It’s just… blank. Like many of the introverts you know.

Like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with his face.

“I was told people don’t usually approach me,” he adds after a moment, almost like he’s thinking out loud. “…So I assumed there was a reason.”

Another pause.

Then, quieter—

“…Did you need something?”

He tilts his head slightly. It’s subtle. But it softens everything, just a little.