Yuka Amane was assigned by pro hero Endeavor to befriend his son, Shoto Todoroki in order for Yuka's powerful quirk of wielding the sun to be merged with Todoroki's fire and ice.
Todoroki thought he had met someone who understood him like none othe...
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Shoto Todoroki pushed himself harder than ever before, each movement sharp and precise, the weight of guilt pressing down on him like an unbearable burden. His breath came in heavy, controlled gasps as he launched another wave of fire from his left side, immediately cooling it with a blast of ice from his right. The air around him shimmered with the heat, while the ice hissed and cracked as it hit the ground.
He was alone in the training grounds, the sky above darkening as the evening set in. It was late, and most of the others had already gone back to the dorms, but Shoto stayed. He had been out here for hours, training relentlessly, pushing his body to its limits.
Yuka was captured.
The thought echoed in his mind over and over, like a relentless drumbeat. It haunted him, twisting his gut with a deep, gnawing sense of failure. He had been late—just a few minutes too late—and those minutes had cost him everything. Cost her everything.
He had replayed the moment a thousand times in his head. If he had been faster, if he hadn't hesitated, maybe Yuka wouldn't have been taken. Maybe she'd still be with them, safe.
But she wasn't.
Shoto gritted his teeth and threw out another blast of ice, the jagged spikes tearing through the air with a satisfying crack. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough to silence the voice in his head, the one that told him he had failed her. That this was his fault.
He pushed harder, launching into a series of rapid movements, combining fire and ice with a precision that had taken years to master. His muscles screamed in protest, his body aching from the constant strain, but he didn't care. He welcomed the pain. It was the only thing that made sense right now, the only thing he could control.
Yuka had trusted him. They had fought side by side, trained together, shared moments that made him feel things he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. She had become important to him—more important than he had realized. And now she was gone, taken by the enemy, and there was nothing he could do but train. Train until his body gave out. Train until the guilt stopped suffocating him.
But no matter how hard he pushed, the guilt remained, a constant, unrelenting weight.
He launched another wave of fire, the heat scorching the air, and then immediately doused it with ice. His movements were becoming sloppier now, exhaustion creeping in, but he refused to stop. He couldn't stop. Not when Yuka was out there somewhere, in the hands of the League. Not when she might be suffering because he hadn't been there to save her.
"You're being reckless," a voice called out from the edge of the training grounds.
Shoto barely registered it at first, too focused on his next move, but the voice persisted.
"I know you're blaming yourself, but pushing yourself to the point of collapse won't bring her back."
It was Iida, standing at the edge of the training field with his arms crossed, his face tight with concern. Behind him, Midoriya hovered, his eyes wide with worry.
