The city felt different when you were allowed to walk through it.

Not escorted in silence. Not restrained. Just… walking.

Paper bags rested against your hip as you moved alongside Todoroki, the late afternoon sun catching in his hair. He’d insisted on coming with you—Commission-approved errand, essentials only. Still, it felt like a quiet rebellion.

“You don’t have to hover,” you murmured, half-teasing.

“I’m not,” he replied evenly. “I’m accompanying.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “That’s hovering with better PR.”

He didn’t deny it.

It happened between one step and the next.

A violent crack split the air.

Metal screamed as a car was ripped from the street—slammed sideways by a villain’s quirk, spinning wildly out of control.

Straight toward you.

“Move—!” Todoroki reached for you—

But your body didn’t wait.

No fear. No hesitation. No thought of permission.

Your quirk ignited like a spark catching dry air—controlled, honed from training, but driven by something deeper.

Instinct.

You stepped forward.

The energy snapped outward in a concentrated burst, not wild, not reckless—focused, like a blade. The villain barely had time to react before the force struck him square in the chest, slamming him into the pavement with a bone-rattling impact.

He didn’t move.

The car hit the street short of you, skidding harmlessly into a pole.

Silence fell.

Your breath came fast, sharp. Hands trembling—not from fear, but from the aftermath.

“I—” You turned toward Todoroki. “I didn’t— I just reacted—”

He was already there.

Between you and the street. Between you and consequence.

His eyes were sharp, scanning you first—not the villain, not the damage.

“Are you injured?” he asked.

You shook your head slowly.

He exhaled—quiet, controlled—but you felt it like heat.

“That wasn’t loss of control,” he said. “That was restraint under pressure.”

You stared at him. “You’re… not upset?”

“I’m observant,” he replied. “You assessed the threat. You acted to protect. You stopped once the danger was neutralized.”

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Todoroki placed a firm hand on your shoulder—grounding, steady.

“That’s what heroes do.”

Something in your chest tightened painfully.

“I didn’t ask,” you whispered.

He met your eyes, expression unreadable but certain.

“You didn’t need to.”

When the other heroes arrived, Todoroki stepped forward smoothly, already giving a report—measured, professional. You stayed just behind him, watching as he spoke without hesitation.

Without distancing himself from you.

His thumb pressed once into your shoulder—a silent reassurance.

A promise.

Later, as you resumed the walk back toward the Commission, the city quieter now, he spoke again.

“You trusted yourself today,” he said.

You glanced up at him. “You trusted me first.”

He didn’t argue.

And for the first time since being placed in his custody, you realized—

This wasn’t just about control anymore.

It was about choice.

And Shoto Todoroki had just watched you choose to protect—without being told who you were allowed to be.