A/N: Sorry for the delay, folks... quarantine has really been rotting my last remaining braincells lately. Anyway, I LOVED writing this chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.


Once a stack of wood and dried grass had been piled into the bonfire pit, the two of them sat on opposite sides of it, and Shouto gritted his teeth as he lit enough fire to ignite the kindling. It was longer than he'd sustained the flame since his sparring match with his father. He sat on the rocks around the fire pit, staring down the blaze, even as he drew his arm over his face when his stomach protested. Not one to miss anything, Midoriya turned from the fire to the one who'd lit it and asked if he was feeling nauseous.

"Yeah," Shouto admitted. "It's the strangest thing. I think now I understand what my mother meant by my left side being unbearable."

"But it is yours."

Hearing his voice say it again amplified the memory of him screaming it during their match, and Shouto felt an almost electric sensation, one that was somehow both disconcerting and comforting at the same time.

"No matter what you decide to do with it," Midoriya went on, "it's not your father's. He might act like you're just an extension of him, but that's not true! You're your own person, and that fire is yours."

IT'S YOURS!

Shouto sighed and crossed his arms inside his sweatshirt, hearing again the past and present voices in unison in his mind. The boy was sure perceptive. He wasn't sure he liked being so exposed, but if it had to happen, at least it was at the hands of someone who didn't seem to mean him any harm.

"I know," he told Midoriya. "But it still reminds me of my father and all the horrible things he did, and even worse, how it drove my mother away."

Midoriya was quiet, eyes clouded as he considered what Shouto had said. "Maybe she's the key to all this," he said after a few moments. "I don't think you have anything to prove to your father, at least not with your fire. Maybe instead of focusing on him, imagine proving to your mom that yours is a different kind of fire, one that's warm and used for good."

Shouto was about to say that he'd tried that, but he realized it wasn't exactly true. He had been trying to think more of his mom, but he'd still been thinking about the fire as an unfortunate product of his father's, and not as something of his own. That nuance could make the difference.

"That could work," he agreed. "That is the root of this, I think. I haven't been able to make myself believe that my fire quirk is inherently good."

"Okay!" said Midoriya with enthusiasm as he got to his feet. "Are you ready to try it then?"

"I think so," said Shouto. He was tired and freezing and desperate to get this over with. "What do you have in mind?"

"Freeze me," said Midoriya.

"Nani?!"

"Freeze me," Midoriya said again. "Then gently use your fire to melt the ice. I've seen you do it in class before. You'll be specifically using the fire to help someone."

"Help solve a problem I created."

"All the better for your internal conflict, right?"

Shouto couldn't argue with that. Determined to solve it, he stood up and agreed to begin.

"Good." Midoriya braced himself. "Now come at me!"

Shouto kept the ice to a minimum, creating only enough to trap his volunteer victim.

"Okay! Now the fire. Remember you're doing it to help me!"

A different kind of fire, one that's warm and used for good, he repeated in his mind as he began to melt the ice. Once enough had dripped away, he gave Midoriya his hand while he found his footing after being trapped. Shouto was shaking, but he'd done it.

"That's perfect," Midoriya encouraged him. "How do you feel?"

"How do you think?"

"But you're okay! And the more you use the fire, the more you'll get warm. Let's do it again!"

Shouto frowned at his friend's now-damp clothing. It was getting dark, and it would soon be very cold for both of them. The last thing he wanted was for Midoriya to end up sick too.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" he asked. "I could practice on something else, like these retaining walls. It doesn't have to be you."

"I think it does," Midoriya countered. "What does it matter if you can melt ice off a wall? You need to know you can use your fire to help someone. Right now that's me. Now let's go! Freeze me!"

Right again, Shouto supposed. He froze Midoriya in ice again, shivering as he felt frost forming along his right side.

"Don't wait!" Midoriya admonished. "It won't help if you keep letting yourself get colder. Use your fire!"

He lit a spark in his hand, but put it out when he started coughing. He felt as if even his blood was turning to ice, and it was starting to make him sleepy. "I can't. I'm so tired."

"You can do this!" Midoriya insisted. "Light the fire!"

Determined not to pass out from the cold, Shouto clenched his jaw and lit the flame again, keeping it long enough to break his victim loose. Once he was safely standing on sand, Shouto stepped away from him and doubled over, afraid he was going to be sick.

Not letting him give up, Midoriya shouted, "You're not hurting me! Do it again! Faster this time. You have to get warm!"

He did, over and over, as quickly as he could, trying not to hesitate in between the ice and fire, until he was warm enough to lower the hood of his sweatshirt. He felt like they were making progress, but he was so tired he felt dizzy; and every time he switched to fire, no matter what good thought he focused on, he still found the fire repulsive… no, unbearable, that was always the word he couldn't get out of his head.

"Again!" cried Midoriya, breaking Shouto's inner monologue. "Keep trying! You're going to be a hero, rescuing people with that fire! Do it again!"

Once more he froze his friend, closed his eyes, and freed him with the fire. One that's wa—UNBEARABLE.

Oh no. He couldn't take it anymore. Midoriya was opening his mouth to say something, but Shouto never found out what. He stumbled a few steps as he tore off the mask and hit the sand on hands and knees, and all at once he might as well be five years old again, pushed far past the limits of his endurance and throwing up at his father's feet. He could easily see Endeavor's disapproving scowl and hear his mother behind him, pleading for respite on his behalf. He coughed and sputtered, struggling to breathe, all while expecting to be forced back onto his feet for the training to continue.

But when he sat up and wiped his mouth, there was only Midoriya sitting calmly beside him, green eyes brimming with concern.

"Doesn't seem like there was much in your stomach," his friend said quietly. "Have you been throwing up this whole time you've been sick?"

"No," said Shouto. He took another couple of breaths, waiting for his stomach to settle. "I've been careful to only eat what I'm sure I can keep down. It hasn't been much, but it was working until now."

"Hontou gomennasai." Midoriya shook his head sadly. "I pushed you too hard."

"Shouganai," said Shouto, knowing Midoriya was doing his best to help. "This has to be done. I have to work through this."

"Maybe there's another way," Midoriya wondered aloud. "I don't want you to make yourself even more sick."

Shouto shrugged. After holding it back all week, it was actually a relief to throw up. He looked down at his hands and saw that they weren't icy anymore. The sand on his palms was even a little damp with sweat. "It was working. My left side is still sickening, but I am a little warmer."

Midoriya put a hand on his shoulder to see for himself. "You feel like a normal human temperature, at least," he said.

"That should be enough for now."

"So desune?" Midoriya agreed. "You should get some rest."

Shouto nodded. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under a blanket and sleep until the weekend was over. He stood up and doused the bonfire with ice, then pulled up his hood. "Let's go."

Midoriya pointed him towards a water fountain, suddenly looking sheepish. "You're not the only one to get sick on this beach after a tough training session," he said.

"Oh?"

"My training regimen before the entrance exam was pretty intense…"

"What's embarrassing about that?" Shouto wondered aloud as they changed direction and headed towards the water fountain. The water was cold, but that was less of a problem than it would have been an hour ago, and he was glad to rinse the sour taste from his mouth.

"I've had to work so hard to get this far," said Midoriya. "You didn't even have to take the entrance exam, so it must seem beneath you to train with me…"

"Beneath me?" Shouto shut off the water fountain and shook his head. "There's nothing embarrassing about hard work. You clearly deserve to be here. Give yourself some credit."

"Domo," said Midoriya, though he still looked unsure of himself.

They took the walk back slowly, even though it was nearly dark. Neither of them said much; both were tired and preoccupied. As they made their way steadily up a sloping hill, though, Shouto stopped when the glow from the street lights began to blur. Without thinking, he grabbed Midoriya's arm, startling the other boy.

"Ah! Todoroki-kun! Daijoubu? Do you feel sick again?"

"So janai," said Shouto quickly, sorry for frightening him. "I am a little lightheaded, though. I need to stop for a minute."

"Oh. Okay. Of course."

They stood in silence for a moment, until Shouto realized he was still gripping Midoriya's arm. "Gomen," he said, letting go and continuing to walk.

"It's okay," said Midoriya. "I wouldn't want you to fall. I can't make people float in midair like Uraraka, but I don't mind doing what I can do!"

Shouto smiled. "That was plenty. I don't think being weightless would ease my dizziness."

"No, I suppose not!" Midoriya laughed. "Well, we're almost to my house, and then you can sit down for a while."

Halfway up the stairs, Shouto was leaning against the railing for support, focusing on putting one foot up a step at a time. So. Tired. Seeing him struggle, Midoriya frowned and offered his arm. "Not much farther," he said encouragingly.