꧁𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐜𝐞꧂

꧁ 𝟒 ꧂

When the day of the duet competition arrived, the ice rink was packed with spectators, the air electric with anticipation. It was their first public performance as a pair, and every eye was on them. Shoto felt the familiar rush of adrenaline in his chest, but unlike previous performances, there was a different sensation—one that fluttered in his stomach, an unfamiliar heat. It was Bakugo.

Bakugo, for his part, was almost unnervingly calm. He stood at the edge of the rink, arms crossed, glaring at the other competitors. "We're gonna crush them," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His fiery attitude was in full force, but beneath it, Shoto could sense something else. A flicker of something he couldn't quite identify.

As the music began, they moved onto the ice. The tension between them was palpable, but it wasn't the same as before. The challenge now wasn't about proving who was better—it was about trusting each other.

And for once, Bakugo did.

They moved together, each glide and jump more fluid than before. Bakugo's spins were wild, yet Shoto matched him step for step. The heat from Bakugo's jumps combined with the coolness of Shoto's turns created a breathtaking contrast, a dance of fire and ice. The routine was flawless—seamless, despite the tension that usually defined their every interaction.

When they reached the final move, a daring, complicated jump, it was more than just technical skill that bound them together—it was something else. Bakugo shot through the air, his body contorting in a graceful arc, and as he descended, Shoto caught him mid-air, spinning him effortlessly to the ground.

The crowd held their breath as they landed, arms extended, perfectly synchronized. Silence. Then, as one, the audience erupted in applause.

Shoto's chest heaved with exertion, but there was a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the cold. He glanced at Bakugo, whose chest was also rising and falling with the effort. The fierce glare was gone, replaced by something softer—a glint of satisfaction, maybe even admiration.

Bakugo grinned, his teeth flashing. "Not bad, ice-for-brains."

Shoto tilted his head, a quiet smile playing on his lips. "Same goes for you, Bakugo."

For the first time, their rivalry felt different—less about defeating one another, and more about something they both understood.

Something beyond skating. Something that was starting to feel like... trust.