Flashback: Todoroki Estate
The evening air clung heavily to the stone pathways of the Todoroki estate, laden with the biting chill of late winter as the sun dipped below the rooftops. Shadows stretched long across the meticulously raked gravel, blurring the line between tradition and time. The estate exuded quiet, an austere elegance settling over its polished wood and paper-paneled halls. Inside, soft footsteps echoed and grew louder, insistent against the stillness.
Shoto sprinted through the corridor, his urgent breath matching his pace. His mind raced faster than his feet, anticipation mixed with disbelief propelling him forward. He skidded to a stop in front of a pale wooden door, rapping sharply with his knuckles, his impatience barely contained.
"Wake up already," he called, his voice carrying a pulse of excitement. "Dad said we can go to the Lantern Festival. Without him."
For a moment—silence. Then a soft groan punctuated the pause. The door creaked open to reveal Hikari, hair tousled, eyes bleary from sleep, bewilderment on her face.
"Lantern Festival?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. Her voice held the groggy disbelief of someone who seldom heard good news.
"Yeah," Shoto said, with a rare excitement that was almost disbelieving in itself, tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Come on. Before he changes his mind."
Hikari's sleepy frown melted into a smile—a small, private one that spoke more than words—and she disappeared back inside to change. Her footsteps quickened, a soft shuffle as she tossed aside the drowsiness and searched for something to wear. Shoto lingered by the door, his mind already at the festival, colored by visions of lanterns and laughter.
The estate was unusually quiet, the absence of Endeavor's presence almost palpable, as if the very walls breathed easier without his watchful glare. They moved hurriedly through the corridors, Hikari now dressed in a simple yet elegant yukata, the fabric brushing softly against her legs. A shared sense of anticipation hung between them, fragile and exhilarating, as if acknowledging the rarity of their newfound freedom.
They stepped out into the cold, the night air biting at their skin, invigorating in its sharpness. Their breaths formed little clouds that puffed and vanished into the vast sky. They exchanged a glance—a moment of mutual understanding where words felt unnecessary, where the enormity of what an evening away from Endeavor meant loomed large and bittersweet.
The city passed by in a blur, streets glittering with the distant promise of warmth and celebration. Hikari leaned into the window, the lights reflecting against her glassy eyes, each illuminated facade promising a corner of the world untouched by her burdens. Shoto sat beside her, his face set in characteristic determination, though tonight it seemed lighter, less burdened by the usual weight of expectation. The hum of the car was a comforting backdrop, a rhythmic counter to their unspoken hopes.
Lantern Festival at the Amaterasu’s Heart Shrine
Outside, the world transformed into magic.
Thousands of paper lanterns floated along the river like drifting stars. Their reflections rippled on the water's dark surface, while the shrine grounds came alive with laughter, music, and the mouthwatering scent of festival food—yakitori grilling on skewers and sweet mochi steaming in bamboo baskets. Hand in hand—or more accurately, Shoto awkwardly juggling armfuls of stuffed prizes while trailing after her—Hikari darted from booth to booth, eyes sparkling.
"Shooooo," she whined dramatically, tugging his sleeve. "Win me that one!"
She pointed at a plush dog toy, resembling the Japanese sun goddess, perched high behind the prize booth.
Shoto sighed in mock exasperation. "You're impossible."
Still, he stepped up, paid the vendor, and—with the calm precision only a Todoroki could pull off—landed the ball perfectly into the winning cup.The vendor handed over the plush dog toy with a chuckle.
Hikari hugged it close, her smile lighting up the night.
"I'll keep it forever," she said seriously. "So I’ll always remember tonight."
Shoto looked away, cheeks tinged faintly pink.
Later, they sat side-by-side on the shrine steps, sharing warm tangyuan—sweet rice balls in delicate ginger broth. Their shoulders bumped gently now and then, but neither moved away.
Above them, golden lanterns floated higher, brushing the stars.
Thunderous drumming split the night, a shockwave of sound that seemed to shake the stars from the sky, as the lion and dragon dancers burst into the square. Their vibrant costumes coiled and snapped with dizzying energy like living creatures come to life in a kaleidoscope of motion. The performers leaped and spun, synchronized to the relentless rhythm that pounded through the festival grounds, its deep thuds coursing with a primal urgency through every heart.
The crowd pressed in tightly from all sides, an ocean of bodies moving as one. Their shouts and laughter swirled together with the music, a cacophony that filled the air with raw, electric excitement. Shoto turned, wide-eyed and mesmerized by the spectacle—the explosion of color, the pulse of the drums that thudded in his chest.
But when he looked back, Hikari was gone.
Panic hit him like a slap, a cold shock that sent his mind reeling. At first, he thought she was teasing him. A prank. Something she'd laugh about later, her eyes mischievous and daring. He scanned the faces around him frantically, searching for a flash of her hair, a glimpse of her yukata. And then he spotted it.
Her plush dog toy lay discarded on the ground, battered and covered in dirt. A chilling fear crept up his spine, unyielding and piercing.
"Hikari!" he shouted, shoving through the packed crowd with growing desperation. "HIKARI!" But the festival noise swallowed his voice, the shouts and drums drowning out his calls.
And then—he saw her. A flash of blue and white, struggling, wild with fear. She thrashed against two masked men, their grips tight on her arms as they dragged her toward the shadows beyond the torii gates. Shoto's heart lurched with terror and fury.
"HEY!" he roared, ice blasting from his right side, freezing the ground in a jagged trail behind them. One of the kidnappers stumbled, trapped at the knee, his movement halted with a crack of ice.
For a moment, a breathless, agonizing moment, Hikari broke free. She turned, legs burning with adrenaline—running, reaching—her fingers outstretched, desperation raw and vivid in her face.
Their fingertips brushed—
Crack.
A brutal blow to the side of Shoto’s head. The world tilted violently, a sickening spin that sent everything crashing into darkness. The last thing he saw before blackness swallowed him was Hikari’s tear-streaked face, her mouth open in a scream, calling his name.
When Shoto came to, the square was a blur of noise and color, his vision swimming with a dull haze. His head throbbed, the pain sharp and nauseating. He pushed himself up with trembling arms, the world spinning back into focus, frantic thoughts colliding in his mind.
Hikari. Gone.
He stumbled to his feet, staggering back towards the torii gates, the panic restarting like a visceral drum inside him. The ice he'd released was already melting, the water pooling in the dirt where she'd vanished. There was no sign of her—only the smudged tracks where they'd disappeared into the night.
"Hikari!" he yelled again, his voice cracking with helpless fury. "HIKARI!" But this time, he knew. She couldn't hear him anymore.
The festival blurred around him as he fought to stay upright, the lanterns and music a cruel echo of the night they'd almost had. He clutched the dirty rabbit to his chest, and the world reeled again, spinning out of control.
Years Later — Hikari’s Apartment (Present)
The city glowed outside her window, cold and distant.
Hikari jolted awake in bed, gasping. Sweat clung to her skin; her heart thundered against her ribs.
Her hand darted to the nightstand, grabbing the small, worn-out plush dog.
She pressed it tightly to her chest, eyes burning.
"Damn it," she whispered hoarsely. "Why now?"
A knock at the door. She didn’t have to guess who. Dragging herself up, Hikari swung the door open to find All Might, worn thin in his skeletal form standing awkwardly in the hallway. His shadow stretching long across the floor.
"Young Hikari," he said gently. "May I come in?"
She nodded silently. They sat facing each other, the air thick with unspoken things.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Hikari broke the silence, voice low and cracked:
"Why did you leave me with them?"
The words hung heavy between them—blades sharpened by years of hurt. All Might’s shoulders sagged, guilt-crushing the heroic figure he used to be.
"I thought…" he began slowly, raking a hand through his messy hair. "It was safer. Safer than with me. I could barely protect myself back then."
She stared at him searching, hurting.
"Did you not want me anymore?"
Her voice was so small.
All Might’s eyes widened in horror.
"No!" he said fiercely. "Never. You are my daughter. Always."
Hikari’s hands trembled slightly against her knees.
"And my mother?"
He hesitated, the weight of old sins pulling at his bones.
"She stayed," he said, at last, his voice breaking. "She stayed to protect you. To help me. She was… brave. Braver than anyone."
A tear slipped down Hikari’s cheek.
Slowly, awkwardly, All Might reach across the table.
Hikari let him. His arms trembled and were rigid, yet the embrace was genuine. After years, it was truly genuine. She pressed her face into his chest, allowing her tears to flow without restraint. There would be no more running. Not tonight.
Morning at U.A.—After the Attack
The next day, the halls of U.A. High felt strangely hollow.
Sunlight filtered cold and thin through the windows, casting long beams across the empty corridors.
Class 1-A gathered quietly, no longer buzzing with energy—just tension coiled under their skin like tightly wound springs.
At her desk, Mina Ashido twirled a pen nervously between her fingers, her usual bright demeanor dimmed.
"I still can’t believe villains got inside..." she muttered, voice barely more than a whisper.
At the next desk, Kirishima leaned back, arms crossed, jaw tight.
"It’s scary... but man," he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, "did you guys see Hikari? She fought like hell. Didn’t even hesitate."
The others nodded.
Ochaco clutched the hem of her skirt, her fingers twisting the fabric anxiously.
"Is she..." She hesitated. "Is she okay?"
Across the room, Todoroki glanced up from his textbook, his expression carved from stone.
"She’s recovering," he said simply.
"But fighting like that... it took more out of her than she’s willing to admit."
At the back of the room, Bakugo huffed, slouched in his seat, arms crossed tightly.
"Dumb woman," he grumbled, looking away. "Always carrying the whole damn team on her back."
There was no venom in his words. Only something almost like guilt.
At the window, Kaminari rested his forehead against the cool glass.
"I saw it," he said softly, eyes wide with awe.
"Lightning. Fire. Ice. She’s like... an entire damn storm rolled into one."
Beside him, Jirou tapped her ear jack against her desk absently, her gaze serious.
"She didn’t just fight," she murmured. "She healed Midoriya... and Aizawa... and even All Might. While fighting."
"Insane," Sero muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Across the room, even Tokoyami sat straighter, his shadow flickering lightly around his feet.
"We’re lucky," he said in his low, even voice. "Very lucky... to have her."
The room fell into a heavy silence, every unspoken word lingering between them. Hikari wasn’t just another student.
She was something more and they knew now. The classroom door slid open with a sharp bang.
Aizawa Shouta stood in the doorway, bandages crisscrossing his arms and torso, his scarf slung loosely around his neck like a frayed banner.
Despite the bruises and exhaustion etched into his face, his voice was as dry and blunt as ever:
"Enough sulking," he said, walking to the front of the class.
"You’re heroes in training. Start acting like it."
He tapped the whiteboard behind him, where bold letters were scrawled across the surface.
U.A. Sports Festival
The words hit like a lightning bolt.
Mina sat up so fast her chair screeched.
"The Sports Festival?!" she squealed, bouncing slightly in her seat.
Kirishima slammed his fist into his palm, eyes shining.
"Time to show everyone how hard we’ve been training!"
Tokoyami’s gaze sharpened like twin blades of ice.
"A chance," he said gravely, "to test our true strength."
Kaminari grinned wide, electricity sparking faintly around his hair.
"And maybe... get scouted by a real agency!"
Even Bakugo leaned forward, his usual scowl twisting into something darker, fiercer.
"Perfect," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I’ll crush everyone."
At the back, Todoroki said nothing.
But his hands—one icy cold, the other faintly steaming—curled into determined fists.
In the middle of it all, the desk next to Midoriya’s sat empty, Hikari’s.
But her presence still clung to the room like a heartbeat, like a promise.
Midoriya clenched his fists under his desk, a quiet fire building inside him.
He remembered her standing against Shigaraki.
He remembered her collapsing from exhaustion but still smiling.
And he remembered the soft words she whispered to him after USJ when he thought no one else heard:
"We survived. We'll keep surviving."
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He lifted his head.
No matter what waited ahead—villains, rivals, doubt—
They weren’t broken yet.
Hope wasn’t dead.
Not even close.
And this time, he’d fight not just for himself—
But for her, too.
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