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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2100
The hospital room had become a second home to Shoto Todoroki, but today, the air felt different. Tighter, heavier. The doctors had told him that Yuka's condition was stabilizing. She had been awake for a few days now, but something had changed in her. Something had broken, something had been twisted and turned so deep inside her that Shoto could barely recognize the girl he once loved.
He stood just outside the door, his hand hovering over the cold metal handle. Beside him, Aizawa-sensei waited, his expression unreadable but grim. His quirk, Erasure, would be on standby—just in case. They had learned from last time, when Yuka's rage had almost destroyed everything, including herself.
"You sure about this?" Aizawa asked, his tone low but cautious.
Shoto didn't answer at first. His eyes were fixed on the door, but his thoughts were elsewhere, racing through memories of the past—of Yuka laughing, of her flying through the sky, her wings of light catching the sun in ways that had always left him breathless. She had been so free, so vibrant. Now, she was different, broken in ways that shattered his heart.
"I have to," Shoto finally said, his voice quiet but steady. He met Aizawa's gaze for a moment. "She's still in there. I know she is."
Aizawa gave a small nod, his eyes softening just a fraction. "I'll be right here if you need me. But try not to push her too hard, Todoroki."
Shoto nodded and took a deep breath before opening the door.
The room felt colder than usual, the sterile smell of antiseptic sharp in the air. Yuka was sitting on the bed, her wrists no longer restrained, but there was a tension in her posture that hadn't been there before. She didn't look at him when he entered. Her eyes were fixed on the window, staring blankly at the world beyond the glass, her face void of any emotion.
"Yuka..." Shoto began softly, walking slowly toward her.
She didn't respond. She didn't even blink.
Shoto felt his chest tighten. He wasn't sure if it was the same panic he had felt when she had first been captured, or if it was something deeper, the fear that the girl he loved had been lost forever. But he had to try. He had to believe that somewhere inside her, Yuka still existed.
"I know you hate me," he said quietly, sitting down in the chair beside her bed. "And I don't blame you. After everything... everything you went through..."
Her head turned slightly at that, just enough that her gaze shifted toward him, but her expression remained cold, distant.
"I don't hate you," she finally said, her voice low and sharp like broken glass. "Hate is too simple for what I feel."
Shoto swallowed hard, his heart aching at her words. She wasn't Yuka—not completely—but there was something, a flicker of recognition, buried deep in her eyes. He could see it, even if she couldn't.
