Recap: Mirko grinned, showing off her sharp teeth as she looked between them. "Yeah, Todoroki. You need something? Or did you just come here to admire the scenery? Because (H/N) is on my clock today."
^ • ^
The tension in the lobby was so thick it was almost physical, but it was shattered by a piercing, high-pitched wail from the precinct's emergency monitors.
The red lights began to strobe, painting Shoto's pale face and (Y/N)'s soot-stained suit in rhythmic flashes of crimson.
"All available pros! We have a Level 4 containment breach at the North-End Rail Yard!" a dispatcher's voice crackled over the speakers.
"A group of 'Trigger' enhanced villains is attempting to hijack a chemical transport. Velocity quirks reported!"
Mirko's ears stood straight up, a wild, hungry grin splitting her face. "Finally! A real party!"
She looked at (Y/N) and slapped her back so hard she stumbled. "You ready, (H/N)? Let's show these 'domesticated' boys how we do it!"
Shoto's team was already moving, but Shoto himself hadn't taken his eyes off (Y/N). "This is a high-speed zone," he said, his tone shifting into the authoritative 'Number Two' style.
"If they're using Trigger, their reaction times will be near-instant. (Y/N), you should stay-"
"I'm already on the clock, Shoto," (Y/N) interrupted, her voice cool and sharp. She didn't wait for his approval.
She snapped her fingers, a sharp click echoing in the lobby and for a split second, everything outside the window seemed to hang motionless.
By the time Shoto blinked, she and Mirko were already through the door.
The rail yard was a mess of twisted metal and hissing steam. Three villains were moving like blurs-streaks of jagged light dancing between the massive shipping containers.
One of them, a man whose skin was glowing a toxic purple from the Trigger drug, launched himself toward a tank of volatile chemicals.
"Too slow!" Mirko yelled, launching herself into the air, but the villain surged with a burst of unnatural speed, dodging her mid flight.
"Now!" Mirko barked.
(Y/N) planted her feet, her eyes glowing with a faint, silvery light. She waited until the glowing villain was mid-vault, his fingers inches from the tank's valve.
Snap.
The sound was like a gunshot. Suddenly, the area around the villain turned into thick, invisible molasses.
His frantic, high-speed movements ground to a sickening crawl. He looked like he was fighting through deep water, his expression frozen in a silent scream.
"Nice catch, Frenchie!" Mirko roared, coming down like a meteor with a devastating Luna Fall kick that sent the slowed villain crashing into the concrete.
"Watch out!" Shoto's voice boomed from the rafters.
A second villain, a girl with blades for fingers, had used the distraction to flank (Y/N). She was moving so fast she was almost invisible to the naked eye.
Shoto reacted instinctively, sending a massive wave of ice toward her, but the Trigger-enhanced speed allowed the girl to dance right over the frozen shards.
(Y/N) didn't panic. She didn't even look back.
She waited for the vibration of the footsteps. Just as the blade-user swung, (Y/N) snapped her fingers twice in rapid succession.
The air resistance around the villain didn't just slow-it hit zero. The girl tripped over her own momentum, tumbling forward in a clumsy, slow-motion heap right at (Y/N)'s feet.
(Y/N) stepped over her calmly, looking up at Shoto, who was perched on a pillar of ice.
He was staring at her, his hand still wreathed in frost, his breath hitching. He had never imagined her like this-lethal, precise, and utterly unshakable.
She wasn't the girl who needed saving; she was the one controlling the very flow of the battle.
"The third one is heading for the tunnels," (Y/N) called out to him, her voice professional and distant. "If you can flash-freeze the exit, I can pin him in the corridor. Do it now, Shoto."
For the first time in his life, Shoto didn't lead. He followed. "Understood," he muttered, launching himself into the dark of the tunnel.
The third villain was the most dangerous-a hulking man whose Trigger-enhanced Quirk allowed him to vibrate his molecules so fast he could phase through solid objects.
He was a ghost in the machinery, darting toward the main chemical line. If he vibrated the tank's seal, the entire North-End would go up in a toxic cloud.
"He's mine!" Mirko yelled, but as she lunged, the villain simply phased through her kick, leaving her to tumble into a stack of empty crates. "Dammit! I can't hit what isn't solid!"
Shoto landed beside (Y/N), his left side beginning to flicker with orange heat. "I'll superheat the air," Shoto said, his eyes narrowed. "If I can agitate the molecules enough, he won't be able to stabilize his phasing."
"No," (Y/N) snapped, her eyes tracking the blur of the vibrating man. "The chemicals in those tanks are heat-sensitive. You'll blow us all up before you catch him."
Shoto hesitated, his flames dying down. He was the "masterpiece," the one who always had the answer, yet he was standing paralyzed while she took command.
"Shoto, ice-now! Surround the tank!" (Y/N) commanded.
Shoto didn't argue. He slammed his right foot down, and a massive, jagged wall of ice encased the chemical tank. It wouldn't stop the villain from phasing through, but that wasn't (Y/N)'s plan.
"Mirko, get ready!" (Y/N) yelled.
As the villain reached the ice wall, he began to vibrate violently to pass through it. This was the moment. (Y/N) didn't just snap her fingers this time; she threw her hands out, her palms open.
"Temporal Anchor!"
The air didn't just slow down; it stuttered. She wasn't just slowing his body; she was slowing the frequency of his vibrations.
The villain's phasing failed mid-transition. Half of his body was stuck in the ice, and the other half was suddenly, violently solid.
The shock of the sudden deceleration sent a ripple of force through the yard. (Y/N) gasped, the strain of anchoring such a high-frequency Quirk making her nose bleed.
"Now, Mirko!" she wheezed.
Mirko didn't need to be told twice. She used Shoto's ice wall as a springboard, launching herself with a grin that was pure predatory joy.
"Luna Ring!" Her powerful legs slammed into the now-solid villain, shattering the ice around him and sending him spiraling into the dirt, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
Silence fell over the rail yard, broken only by the hiss of escaping steam and (Y/N)'s heavy, ragged breathing. She slumped slightly, her knees trembling from the over-exertion.
Before she could fall, a hand caught her elbow. It wasn't Mirko's rough grip. It was a hand that was steady, firm, and radiating a gentle, controlled warmth.
Shoto stood there, his ice-covered right side steaming as it thawed. He was looking at her with an expression that was no longer cold or resentful.
It was a look of raw, stunned realization. He looked at the blood trickling from her nose, then at the sheer power she had just displayed.
"You're shaking," he murmured, his voice losing its professional edge.
(Y/N) pulled her arm back, stabilizing herself. She wiped her nose with the back of her glove, her eyes meeting his.
"I'm fine. We need to secure the perimeter. There might be more Trigger users in the tunnels."
"The sidekicks have it," Shoto said, stepping closer, ignoring the fact that Mirko was watching them with a shit-eating grin.
"That move... the 'Anchor.' You didn't learn that in a textbook."
"I learned it in a war zone in Marseille," (Y/N) replied, her voice cooling as she remembered the morning.
She looked at him-really looked at him-and saw the confusion in his eyes.
^ • ^
The chaos of the rail yard settled into the rhythmic blue and red of police lights.
Mirko was busy bragging to a news crew about her "world-class leg day," leaving Shoto and (Y/N) in a pocket of awkward, post-battle silence behind a shipping container.
(Y/N) was trying to wipe the soot off her face with a standard-issue medical wipe, but her hands were still trembling from the Quirk-exhaustion.
She looked less like a refined bride and more like a very grumpy, very tired soot sprite.
"Here," Shoto said. It was the first time he'd spoken without that "contract" weight in his voice.
He reached out and took the wipe from her hand. Before she could protest, he used his left side to gently warm his palm, making the cloth a soothing temperature.
He leaned in, his face inches from hers, and began to carefully dab the dirt from her forehead.
(Y/N) froze, her breath hitching. Up close, he didn't smell like the whiskey from last night; he smelled like woodsmoke and the ozone of a fading storm.
"I can do it myself," she mured, though she didn't move away.
"You're missing a spot," he countered, his voice surprisingly soft. He moved to the small cut on her lip, his thumb grazing her skin with a tenderness that felt completely accidental.
He stayed there a second too long, his eyes dropping to her mouth. The "cool, stoic hero" was suddenly replaced by a guy who looked like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
"Hey! Lovebirds!" Mirko's voice boomed from across the yard. "The press is asking if you guys are going to kiss for the cameras or if I should just tell 'em you're both too boring for a headline!"
Shoto jumped nearly a foot into the air, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled his hair. He accidentally flared his left side, and the medical wipe in his hand instantly turned to ash.
(Y/N) blinked at the charred remains of the cloth falling between them. "That was my only wipe, Shoto."
"I... I'll buy you a box," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at her. "A large box. With... moisturizing properties."
(Y/N) stared at him for a beat, then let out a small, tired snort of laughter. It wasn't the "proper" laugh of a Hakamada, but it was real. "You're a dork, Todoroki."
"I've been told," he muttered, a tiny, almost invisible ghost of a smile tugging at his own lips.