Todoroki refuses to leave her bedside, eyes fixed on the monitor tracking her weak heart rate. After an hour, his classmates give up and eventually leave him alone in the hospital room to continue his almost-bewitched stare at the injured girl in front of him. Angry red gashes trail along her arms, her face and almost every inch of uncovered skin. Recovery Girl had paid a visit earlier in the day so they were more like healing scabs than the deep wounds they had been when the pro heroes had found the two unconscious students and a retreating Nomu.
His fingers drum restlessly against the hospital's chair and he shifts in his seat so his legs are pressed up against the sides. Fatigue drags at his mind and the bruises littered across his arms, so he's barely conscious when her voice suddenly breaks his thoughts.
"Todoroki?" The cry is so weak, but the sound is enough to startle him out of his daze.
"Yao-momo," he says quietly, and gives her hand a light squeeze to reassure her of his presence. Her eyes are unfocused as they flick around the room, eventually landing on the general direction of his face.
"W-what." She has to pause to swallow and Todoroki watches her breath appear against the plastic mask. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry," he says quietly and tears he didn't know he'd been holding start gushing from his eyes. His next words are racked with sobs as he tries to get a grip on himself. "I'm s-so sorry for not being there for you." She seems puzzled for a moment before her gaze lands on the discarded flare gun by her bedside.
Oh. Had she made that? The memories are all quite fuzzy in her mind, but she does remember running with Awase from the Nomu and then… being slammed against a tree. Had her subconscious replicated the gun in her desperation?
She searches her memories of the rescue and the arrival of pro heroes, but comes up empty with even the silhouette of her classmate. So he hadn't come. That's all that can explain the crumbling boy in front of her.
It's okay, right? She hadn't really expected him to answer a sudden burst of snowflakes, and she was sure that he had his hands full fighting his own villains. But he promised…
There are tears pricking the back of her eyes but she blinks them away and tries to regain her composure. Todoroki is still sobbing, though he's desperately scrubbing at his face now.
"I-I saw the flare," he chokes out. "But Bakugo needed my help too, and I-I didn't know what to do s-so I didn't do anything and let S-Shoji drag me with them." He's sniffling now and Yaoyorozu's eyes soften considerably. Making split-second life-and-death decisions were a sad trademark of being a hero, and she's sure that he'll have to make many, many more decisions like this so she decides to set him straight once and for all.
"If you ever have to pick between me and someone who needs help in front of you, save them," she says, although her voice is cracking with poorly-restrained sobs. If he has to constantly keep one eye focused on her, he'll never be able to move forward. A hero has to have a one-track mind to save people and she refuses to be the reason he can't achieve his life-long dream. "Promise me that, Todoroki."
He shakes his head vigorously and she waits patiently as he struggles for words.
"No," he eventually says, and slight sparks shoot off from his left side. "If it comes down to that, I'll save you both. I promise." She watches as a newfound determination takes hold in his eyes-one that begins to rival the spark she'd observed in Midoriya and Bakugo's eyes. He's holding out his own flare gun to her now, waiting to see if she'll accept it.
Maybe they'd both been thinking about a hero all backwards. If there's a choice between saving one person or another, the answer is to save them both. When you're left with no options, the solution is always to make your own.
"Plus Ultra," she says quietly as she makes her own flare gun, one that will set off a spray of red sparks instead of snowflakes. "It's a promise for both of us."
They exchange guns and shake hands to seal it.