SHOTO TODOROKI

The final bell echoed through U.A. High School, signalling the end of another long day of classes.

Almost instantly, the orderly atmosphere dissolved into familiar afternoon chaos. Classroom doors slid open one after another as students poured into the corridors, conversations overlapping until they blended into a constant hum. Some hurried toward the training grounds for extra practice, others made straight for Heights Alliance, eager to escape the weight of lectures and assignments for the day.

Sunlight filtered through the tall windows lining the hallways, stretching golden rectangles across the polished floor. The building felt warmer in the late afternoon, carrying the scent of fresh paper, cleaning supplies, and the faint trace of smoke drifting in from one of the outdoor training fields.

It was ordinary.

Comfortably so.

You stood at your locker, sorting through notebooks, training gloves, and a backpack that somehow always seemed to become more disorganized with every passing week. The metal door rested open beside you while students flowed steadily around the corridor.

Some greeted one another before heading home.

Others compared today's lessons.

A few first-years nervously hurried past after realizing they were late for club activities.

Life moved around you without pause.

Not far away, leaning quietly against the opposite wall, Shoto waited.

He wasn't doing anything in particular.

One hand rested inside his pocket while the other loosely held his bag by the strap. His expression was as calm as ever, his posture relaxed despite the constant movement surrounding him.

Waiting had become routine.

Neither of you ever needed to discuss it.

If classes ended at the same time, he'd simply wait.

Sometimes the two of you talked the entire walk back to the dorms.

Other times, neither of you said much at all.

Neither felt awkward.

Silence had never been something Shoto feared.

If anything, it was one of the reasons spending time with him felt so easy.

Nearby, Kirishima and Kaminari disappeared around a corner arguing over who had performed better during combat training.

Bakugo brushed past them with visible annoyance.

Bakugo: "Both of you shut up."

Neither listened.

Jiro walked by moments later with Momo, discussing an upcoming music performance while Sero attempted, unsuccessfully, to insert himself into the conversation.

The hallway remained comfortably busy.

Shoto barely seemed to notice.

His attention drifted occasionally toward your direction, then back to the corridor, quietly waiting without impatience.

Then someone called his name.

Bright.

Cheerful.

Loud enough to cut through the surrounding conversations.

He looked up.

Before he had the chance to identify who had spoken, someone closed the remaining distance between them.

A student.

Not from Class 1-A.

Not someone usually seen spending time with him.

Without hesitation—

They wrapped both arms around him.

"Hi, Shoto! How're you? Handsome as always, I see!"

The words came quickly, accompanied by an enthusiastic laugh.

The hug happened just as suddenly.

Shoto froze.

Not dramatically.

Just enough for anyone who knew him to notice.

His shoulders stiffened almost immediately.

One hand instinctively lifted halfway before stopping awkwardly in midair, uncertain what to do with itself.

Physical affection had never come naturally to him.

Not even with people he trusted.

Unexpected contact from someone he barely recognized...

That was something else entirely.

His expression remained polite.

Confused.

More than anything.

He looked down slightly toward the person clinging comfortably to him as though trying to remember where exactly they'd met.

Nothing came to mind.

A brief silence passed.

Finally—

Shoto: "...Uh."

Another pause.

"...Fine... I guess?"

His voice carried unmistakable uncertainty.

Not because he disliked the person.

Because he genuinely didn't seem to know who they were.

He attempted, carefully, to create a little distance.

Nothing abrupt.

Nothing rude.

Simply placing one hand lightly against the student's shoulder in an obvious effort to ease them back.

They didn't immediately take the hint.

Instead, they smiled even wider.

"Oh, don't be so shy!"

Another light laugh.

"I've been wanting to talk to you forever."

Several nearby students slowed almost instinctively.

Not because anything particularly dramatic was happening.

Simply because seeing someone enthusiastically hugging Shoto Todoroki was unusual enough to attract attention.

Kaminari noticed first.

He blinked.

Then leaned slightly toward Kirishima.

"...Do you know who that is?"

Kirishima looked over.

"...Nope."

Sero followed their gaze.

"...Has Todoroki made a new friend?"

Jiro folded her arms.

"I don't think that's what's happening."

Across the hallway, Midoriya glanced up from the notebook he'd somehow managed to start writing in while walking.

His eyes widened slightly.

He knew Shoto well enough to recognize the discomfort almost immediately.

It wasn't obvious.

Not unless someone paid attention.

Shoto wasn't visibly upset.

He simply looked...

Uncertain.

Like someone trying very hard to remain polite during a situation they clearly hadn't expected.

The student continued smiling brightly.

"So..."

They tilted their head.

"I've always wanted to meet you."

Another laugh.

"You're even cuter up close."

Shoto looked increasingly unsure how to respond.

"...Thank you."

It came automatically.

Polite.

Quiet.

He made another gentle attempt to step backward.

This time creating slightly more space between them.

The student finally let go.

Though they remained standing considerably closer than most people naturally would.

Shoto visibly relaxed the moment the unexpected contact ended.

Only slightly.

Enough that those paying attention noticed.

He adjusted the strap of his bag almost absentmindedly before looking toward your side of the hallway again.

Not searching frantically.

Simply...

Checking.

Almost as though waiting for something familiar to return the afternoon to normal.

The student continued talking enthusiastically.

Words flowed one after another without much pause.

Compliments.

Questions.

Casual observations.

Most of them seemed based more on Shoto's reputation than any actual familiarity.

"I always thought your heterochromia looked amazing."

"I've watched all your Sports Festival matches."

"My friends said you were quiet, but I don't mind that."

Each sentence was delivered with the same cheerful confidence.

Shoto answered politely.

Briefly.

Whenever possible.

Shoto: "Thanks."

"...I see."

"...That's kind."

"...Right."

His replies never grew longer.

Never encouraged the conversation to continue.

Yet they weren't dismissive either.

He simply seemed unsure how to end an interaction with someone who appeared perfectly friendly.

Nearby, Ochaco and Tsuyu happened to emerge from another corridor.

Both immediately noticed the small gathering forming.

Ochaco tilted her head.

"...What's going on?"

Tsuyu observed the situation quietly.

Her gaze shifted from the unfamiliar student—

To Shoto—

Then back again.

"Kero..."

"He looks uncomfortable."

Momo arrived moments later, slowing as she took in the scene.

She didn't interrupt.

She simply watched.

Recognizing, much like everyone else beginning to notice, that Shoto wasn't reciprocating the enthusiasm in front of him.

If anything...

He seemed to be waiting for an opportunity to excuse himself without hurting anyone's feelings.

That was perhaps the most Shoto response imaginable.

Even after everything he'd endured, even after becoming significantly more open over the years, he still worried about making other people uncomfortable.

Even when he was the uncomfortable one.

The student laughed again.

"Oh, you're so serious."

Another smile.

"I think that's adorable."

Shoto blinked.

"...Thank you."

A pause.

Then, quietly—

"I should probably..."

He glanced once more in your direction.

"...Go."

There was no harshness in his voice.

No irritation.

Just calm honesty.

"I was waiting for someone."

The student seemed surprised.

"Oh?"

They looked briefly around the hallway before smiling again.

"I won't keep you long."

Shoto hesitated.

For perhaps the first time since the conversation began, a tiny crease appeared between his brows.

Not annoyance.

Just uncertainty over how much clearer he needed to be.

He wasn't someone who enjoyed rejecting people.

He wasn't someone who liked embarrassing others publicly.

But neither was he willing to simply stand there indefinitely hoping the conversation would somehow end itself.

He took another small step backward.

This time putting unmistakable space between them.

His posture remained polite.

Respectful.

Firm.

Shoto: "Sorry."

A brief pause.

"I really do have to go."

Simple.

Gentle.

Honest.

There was no cruelty in it.

No mixed signals.

No unnecessary explanation.

Just the truth.

The student finally seemed to understand.

Their smile faltered for only a second before returning.

"Oh..."

A small laugh escaped them.

"Of course."

They brushed a strand of hair behind one ear.

"Maybe another time?"

Shoto gave the same polite nod he offered almost everyone.

"...Take care."

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

As the student eventually disappeared into the flow of people moving through the corridor, the small audience that had unintentionally gathered gradually dispersed as well.

Kaminari immediately looked toward Kirishima.

"...That was awkward."

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck.

"...A little."

Jiro corrected him.

"A lot."

Tsuyu gave one quiet nod.

"He handled it well."

Momo agreed.

"He was respectful."

"And clear."

The hallway slowly returned to normal.

Students continued toward the dormitories.

Teachers passed carrying stacks of paperwork.

The afternoon settled back into its familiar rhythm as though nothing unusual had happened.

Across the corridor, Shoto let out the faintest breath before adjusting his bag again.

The tension had disappeared from his shoulders.

His expression returned to its usual calm neutrality.

The entire interaction had lasted only a few minutes.

Yet one thing had become remarkably obvious to anyone who had witnessed it.

For someone often described as emotionally reserved, Shoto's feelings had been surprisingly easy to read.

Not through dramatic words.

Not through visible frustration.

But through the small things.

The way he'd immediately tried to create space.

The uncertainty in his voice.

The repeated glances searching for where you were.

The quiet relief that settled across his features once the uncomfortable encounter had finally come to an end.

Sometimes, with Shoto, the things left unsaid were always the easiest to understand.