The air in the U.A. gymnasium hummed with silent determination. Class 1-A and 1-B had been given extra permission to use the facilities after-hours, and though everyone trained in small, scattered groups, the unspoken rule was clear: don't let anyone else see your new tricks. The Sports Festival was just around the corner, and no one wanted to reveal their hand too early.

I could sense Midoriya's presence on the other side of the gym, his quiet grunts of effort mixing with the sound of his footfalls as he practiced. It seemed like ages ago that I helped him tap into his potential, but he had come so far since then. Even now, he was trying something new. I could almost see the flicker of energy from where I sat, although I wasn't paying him much attention. No, my mind was elsewhere, locked on my own frustrations.

He was calling it Full Cowling now. Quite the fitting name, I thought, though I had to admit, watching him stumble around at first while he tried to spread One For All throughout his body was quite the spectacle. It reminded me of watching someone figure out how to walk for the first time—except that this was Midoriya. He always managed to find his footing in the end.

As I reclined on a bench near the corner of the gym, I couldn't help but notice the way his body moved—light but strong, fast but measured. Every movement was a testament to his growth, even if it was still just 6% of his power. There were moments when he'd falter, his brow creasing as he pushed beyond his current limits, his whole frame tensing as he briefly tapped into that 10%—his new trump card. That power could only be sustained for a split second, maybe less, but it gave him just enough of a boost for quick emergency maneuvers.

He thought no one noticed, but I did. Still, I didn't feel the need to call him out. After all, I had my own struggles to deal with.

They've coddled me like a fragile bird.

Recovery Girl had told me I needed to rest—again. As if the week I spent healing wasn't enough. "A Saintess should know better than to overwork herself," she had scolded. The words stung a little more than I cared to admit. A Saintess... sure, on the surface, I might have appeared the part. But beneath all that, I was a goddess bored out of her mind. And being forbidden from returning to work only fueled my frustration.

I've been doing this since I was ten. Ten. A full six years of leading, healing, protecting, and making a name for myself, and yet here I was, confined to walking around the U.A. campus as if I were some ordinary student.

"It's for your own good," the Vatican representative had said earlier that morning. He stood next to Recovery Girl, both of them forming an unshakable alliance that I couldn't break no matter how much I protested.

My toes dug into the soft grass of U.A.'s courtyard as I stood barefoot in the open air, arms crossed, glaring at the distant horizon. "I'm fine, Recovery Girl. The Nomu incident wasn't that bad."

"Oh, of course. Fighting a nearly indestructible monster while you were already exhausted? Nothing to worry about there," she replied with a chuckle, her words tinged with sarcasm as she worked on a young student nearby.

I scowled. "That's not the point."

"And you nearly reached your limit, Seraphina," she continued, completely ignoring my protest. "Be patient. You'll have your chance to rejoin the others at the Sports Festival, but until then, you're grounded."

The last word hit me like a hammer. Grounded. Grounded. Who in their right mind grounds a Saintess? I didn't say it aloud, though. What good would it have done? They weren't listening to me anyway.

But it didn't stop the boredom from eating at me. I had half a mind to sneak out at night just to find some excitement, but no. I had already been warned that even the slightest attempt at hero work would result in Recovery Girl doubling down on her decision. And if the Vatican representatives got wind of it... well, I didn't want to know what kind of bureaucratic mess that would stir up.

I stretched my arms above my head and sighed. "I just want to get back out there."

A familiar voice interrupted my thoughts. "Frustrated, huh?"

I glanced over to see Kaminari approaching, hands tucked behind his head in his usual laid-back manner, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"Not you too, Kaminari," I groaned. "If you're here to lecture me, you can leave."

"Nah, just here to watch the master sulk," he replied, flopping down onto the grass beside me. "You know, it's kind of funny seeing you like this. You're usually the one giving us advice."

I shot him a look, but his grin only widened.

"Hey, lighten up. You'll get your chance soon enough. Besides, it's not like anyone else is slacking off while you're sitting pretty here."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, like I'm enjoying this. I'd rather be doing something with the rest of you."

"I figured as much. But look at it this way—when you do get back into the action, you'll be fresh, stronger than ever."

I glanced over at the gym where the others were still hard at work. "I guess."

"Come on, Seraphina. We all know you're dying to do something all week."

The thought did bring a smile to my face. Maybe I had been cooped up for too long, but Kaminari was right. When I did return, it was going to be something special. After all, who better than the Saintess to make a grand reappearance?

Still... "I'm going to find a way, just to do something if they keep me out of it for much longer," I muttered under my breath.

Kaminari burst into laughter. "Now that I'd like to see. But don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for you. You can count on me."

I shot him another look, but this time, my grin matched his. Maybe being sidelined wasn't so bad, as long as I had people like Kaminari around to keep things interesting.

For now, I'd bide my time. But soon enough, I'd make sure everyone remembered just how powerful Seraphina could be—even if it meant pushing a few boundaries.

The warmth of the courtyard settled over me, the chatter of the other students fading into the background as I let my frustration simmer down. Maybe, just maybe, I could enjoy this peaceful moment... for now.

Kaminari had wandered off after our little chat, leaving me alone with my thoughts again. The courtyard had a certain peacefulness to it, but my mind was anything but still. I sighed, leaning back against the stone bench as I gazed up at the sky. Clouds drifted lazily overhead, indifferent to my restlessness.

I could hear the distant sounds of training coming from the gym, the occasional shout or crash echoing across the grounds. It was hard not to feel a bit jealous, but I knew my time would come soon enough. For now, I had to be patient, which was never exactly my strong suit. I shifted uncomfortably, already feeling the itch to do something. Anything.

But then, as if summoned by the gods of embarrassment, that memory resurfaced—the one I'd been trying so hard to forget.

It had been a few days since that incident with Midoriya, but the memory of it seemed to haunt me at the most inconvenient times. I couldn't escape it. Every time I closed my eyes, there it was—Midoriya's wide-eyed panic, the clumsy tangle of limbs, the thud as we both hit the ground. And me, lying just below of him, staring up into his beet-red face.

I cringed just thinking about it.

"Ugh..." I muttered to myself, covering my face with my hands as if I could block the memory from replaying yet again.

It wasn't a big deal, I tried to tell myself. Just a simple fall. Accidents happen. But no matter how many times I repeated that, I couldn't shake the embarrassment. The worst part? Midoriya, bless his awkward soul, had apologized profusely—as if it were entirely his fault that we had fallen in the first place.

Not that I helped much. I had been too flustered to form a coherent response, so I'd just mumbled something unintelligible and scrambled away as quickly as possible. Not exactly the composed, dignified Saintess I was supposed to be.

I groaned inwardly, dropping my head into my hands. Why did that of all things have to keep coming back to me? I had faced down Nomu, stared villains in the eye, healed countless injuries, and yet here I was, completely undone by one awkward fall.

The sound of laughter from nearby jolted me from my self-pity. A group of students were passing by, probably heading to lunch or back to their dorms. I recognized a few of them—Sero, Uraraka, and of course, Midoriya himself.

My breath caught in my throat as Midoriya's gaze briefly met mine. He gave a small, sheepish wave, his usual nervous smile plastered on his face.

Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush.

I managed to wave back, albeit awkwardly, before quickly turning away. My heart was doing that ridiculous fluttery thing again, the same one that had happened during the fall. I didn't even understand why. It wasn't like I had feelings for him. Midoriya was... well, Midoriya. Adorable, in that earnest puppy-dog way, but not exactly the type to make my heart race. Or so I thought.

But then the memory of the fall would resurface—the way his arms had instinctively wrapped around me to cushion the impact, the way his breath had hitched when we'd been so close...

I shook my head violently. "Get it together, Seraphina," I muttered under my breath. "It was just a fall. You've handled far worse."

Still, the memory lingered like an itch I couldn't quite scratch. No matter how hard I tried to brush it off, it kept creeping back in—during meals, during walks, even when I was observing the students' training. Every time Midoriya crossed my path, that flutter would return, and I'd have to pretend I was perfectly composed when, in reality, I was anything but.

It didn't help that Midoriya seemed oblivious to the effect the whole incident had on me. He carried on as if nothing had happened, which only made me feel more ridiculous for being so hung up on it.

--

As the days passed, I tried to focus on observing the students instead of dwelling on my own embarrassing memories. Everyone was working hard, and I had to admit, it was impressive seeing how far they had come since the start of the year. Midoriya, in particular, had improved leaps and bounds with his Full Cowling. Watching him now, I could almost forget about the awkward fall... almost.

"Hey, Seraphina!" I heard Uraraka's cheerful voice call out as she approached with Midoriya and Iida in tow. "You're looking better! Are you feeling ready for the Sports Festival?"

I forced a smile, hoping my face wasn't betraying me. "Yeah, I'm getting there. Still not allowed to do any real work, though."

"Oh, that's too bad," Iida said with his usual serious expression. "But I'm sure you'll be fully recovered by the time the festival begins. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"Yeah! You're like, the heart of the team!" Uraraka added with a bright grin.

Midoriya nodded vigorously beside her, clearly too shy to add much but still supportive as always. I couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm. It was nice to be appreciated, even if I wasn't quite back in action yet.

"I'll be cheering you all on from the sidelines," I said, though inwardly I was already plotting how to sneak in some training without Recovery Girl finding out. "And I'll make sure you all stay in one piece if you get too banged up."

"Thanks, Seraphina! We'll need it," Midoriya said, his face lighting up. That innocent smile of his... why did it have to be so disarming?

Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, Uraraka tugged on Midoriya's arm. "Come on, we should get going! Lunch's about to start."

They waved goodbye, and I waved back, maintaining my composure until they were out of sight. Then, and only then, did I allow myself a small, exasperated sigh.

This is ridiculous, I thought, shaking my head. I'm supposed to be focusing on more important things—like how to sneak past Recovery Girl. Not... this.

But no matter how hard I tried to focus, the memory of the fall—and the way Midoriya had looked at me afterward—just wouldn't leave me alone.

I sighed again. Maybe, just maybe, I was in deeper than I thought.

Part 4: Todoroki's Avoidance

It had started subtly at first, almost unnoticeable if I hadn't been paying close attention. A quick glance in my direction, followed by an immediate turn away. No big deal, right? Maybe he was just busy or didn't want to be distracted.

But then it kept happening.

Every time I entered a room or walked by in the hallways, Todoroki would find some excuse to be somewhere else. I'd catch glimpses of him—his distinct dual-colored hair a dead giveaway—but as soon as I came close, he would either turn on his heel and walk away, or if that wasn't possible, he'd suddenly find something very interesting on the far wall to stare at.

At first, I didn't think much of it. Todoroki wasn't exactly the most social person to begin with. But as the days passed, it became more and more obvious that this wasn't just his usual aloofness. He was avoiding me—actively avoiding me.

I frowned, watching from a distance as Todoroki once again disappeared around a corner just as I entered the common room. There it was again. That same quick turn and hurried escape. He hadn't even said a word to me all week.

What is going on?

I shifted in my seat, leaning forward as frustration gnawed at me. It wasn't like we'd had any kind of fight—or at least, none that I could remember. And as far as I knew, nothing had happened to make him start acting this way. But something was clearly wrong, and I had no idea what it was.

Sitting idly by wasn't exactly my style, especially not when one of my friends was clearly going through something. But confronting Todoroki was easier said than done, especially when he kept disappearing before I even had a chance to talk to him.

--

I'd had enough. This avoidance thing had gone on long enough, and I wasn't about to let it continue without some kind of explanation.

So, I made a plan. If Todoroki was going to keep running away, then I was going to force a confrontation. And that's how I found myself lurking—yes, lurking—by one of the more secluded pathways on the U.A. campus. It wasn't exactly my proudest moment, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Finally, I spotted him. Todoroki was walking down the pathway alone, his usual stoic expression in place as he seemed lost in thought.

I stepped out from behind the corner before he could slip away again. "Todoroki," I called out, trying to keep my tone casual despite the frustration bubbling inside me. "We need to talk."

He froze, his eyes widening slightly before his usual mask of calm slipped back into place. For a moment, I thought he might just turn and walk away, but instead, he let out a quiet sigh and stopped, turning his head just enough to acknowledge me.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice as neutral as ever.

I crossed my arms, planting myself firmly in front of him. "You've been avoiding me," I said bluntly. There was no point in dancing around the issue. "And I want to know why."

Todoroki stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned away, his gaze shifting to the side as if something off in the distance was far more interesting than this conversation.

My frustration spiked. "Todoroki!" I took a step closer, trying to get him to look at me. "You've been acting weird ever since the USJ incident. Did something happen? Did I do something?"

Silence. He didn't even flinch. His eyes remained fixed on that invisible point somewhere far beyond me.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Seriously, if I did something to upset you, just tell me. I'm not a mind reader, you know."

Still nothing.

That was it. My patience had officially run out.

"Are you avoiding me because I got injured at USJ?" The words came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't hold back anymore. I needed answers.

For the first time, Todoroki's expression shifted ever so slightly. It was subtle—just a flicker of something in his eyes, a tightening of his jaw. But it was enough to tell me I had hit a nerve.

I softened my tone, stepping closer. "Is that it? Are you feeling guilty or something?"

Another pause. Then, finally, he spoke—barely above a whisper. "It's not your fault."

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden admission. "What?"

Todoroki's shoulders tensed, and for the first time, he looked me directly in the eyes. His expression was unreadable, but there was a weight behind his words that hadn't been there before. "You got hurt. I couldn't protect you. I should've been stronger."

I stared at him, taken aback by the raw honesty in his voice. Guilt. That's what this was. He was carrying guilt for something that wasn't even his responsibility.

"Todoroki..." I began, but he cut me off.

"I knew the risks, but still..." His voice faltered, and he looked away again, his eyes distant. "If I'd been stronger, maybe things would've turned out differently."

I could feel my heart ache at the weight of his words. He was blaming himself, as if my injuries had been his personal failure. But that wasn't fair—not to him, and certainly not to me.

I took a deep breath, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. "Todoroki, what happened at USJ wasn't your fault. None of us could've predicted what was going to happen. And I'm fine now, aren't I?"

He remained silent, but I could see the conflict in his eyes.

"You're not responsible for everything that happens to me," I continued, my voice soft but firm. "I'm not some damsel in distress that needs protecting all the time. I chose to be there. I chose to fight. Just like you."

His gaze flickered to mine again, uncertainty clouding his usually steady eyes. "But still..."

"No 'buts'," I said, cutting him off gently. "We're a team, Todoroki. We look out for each other, but that doesn't mean you have to carry all the weight on your shoulders. I don't blame you for what happened, and neither should you."

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. The silence stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, Todoroki let out a quiet sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

"...I'll try," he said softly, his voice barely audible.

It wasn't a full admission of relief, but it was a start.

I smiled, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before letting go. "That's all I ask."

We stood there for a few moments longer, the sounds of the distant training sessions filling the quiet air between us. The awkwardness had faded, replaced by a new understanding. Todoroki might not have fully let go of his guilt yet, but at least he knew now that he didn't have to bear it alone.

And that, I thought, was progress.

After our brief exchange, the air between us grew quieter, as if we both needed a moment to collect our thoughts. I could see that Todoroki was still wrestling with something, his eyes distant, shoulders tense, and yet there was a sense of reluctance in his body language, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to speak.

I tilted my head slightly, watching him carefully, not wanting to push him too hard. Sometimes, silence is more effective than words.

We stood like that for what felt like an eternity, the faint hum of students training nearby echoing in the background. Just when I thought our conversation had come to an end, Todoroki finally broke the silence.

"It's not just about protecting you," he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. I blinked in surprise, not expecting him to speak again. "It's... It's more than that."

I stayed quiet, allowing him to continue. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"I could've done something earlier... I could've used my fire quirk."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn't help but widen my eyes at the sudden confession. The fire quirk? That's right... Todoroki had never used it in front of me, or any of our classmates, for that matter. It was always his ice. Always.

"If I had used it earlier... you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

There it was. The source of his guilt. His hesitation. It wasn't just about me getting injured at USJ—it was about his fire quirk. The one thing he refused to use, even when it could have saved me from harm.

I stayed silent, my heart clenching as I listened. His face remained unreadable, but his voice betrayed the emotions he was trying so hard to suppress.

"I hate that quirk," he continued, his voice tight. "It's... my father's quirk. I've always avoided using it because I didn't want to be anything like him. But because of that... because of my own issues, you got hurt."

The bitterness in his words was palpable, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond. This was deeper than just guilt over what happened at USJ. This was about his father, about his own identity, and the internal conflict he had been carrying all this time.

I felt a pang of sympathy as I watched him struggle to put his thoughts into words. He had been avoiding me not because he was upset with me, but because he was upset with himself—for holding back when it mattered most.

"Todoroki..." I started gently, but he continued, not looking up.

"I should've used it," he said, his tone sharper now, filled with regret. "But I couldn't. Not then. I was too... conflicted. And because of that hesitation, I failed to protect you."

The raw honesty in his words left me speechless for a moment. Here he was, baring his soul, admitting to something that had clearly been eating away at him for days—maybe even longer. And all because of his complicated relationship with his father and the power he shared with him.

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. This wasn't about me anymore. It was about Todoroki, and the burden he had been carrying for far too long.

Todoroki's admission hung in the air like a delicate thread, the weight of his words still settling between us. I could see the pain etched into his expression, the internal battle raging beneath his calm exterior. For a moment, I said nothing, simply watching him struggle with the emotions he had kept locked away for so long.

There was something about seeing him like this—vulnerable and unsure—that made my heart ache. He wasn't just Todoroki, the strong, silent type that everyone respected; he was also just a boy, carrying burdens no one should have to bear alone. And for reasons I couldn't entirely explain, I felt the overwhelming need to offer him some kind of comfort.

Without thinking, I reached out, my hand moving towards the scarred side of his face. Todoroki flinched instinctively as my fingers grazed his skin, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as I let my palm rest gently against his cheek. The heat from his fire quirk still lingered faintly beneath the surface, a reminder of the part of him he had spent years trying to deny.

"It's yours, you know," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Todoroki blinked, clearly caught off guard by my words. "Your quirk... it's not his. It belongs to you, and only you. No one can take that from you, not even your father."

For a moment, he didn't respond, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find some hidden meaning in my words. I held his gaze, my thumb lightly brushing the edge of his scar. I could see the conflict in his eyes—the fear, the anger, the uncertainty—but beneath it all, there was something else. Something fragile.

"You're not him, Todoroki," I continued, my tone gentle but firm. "You never have been. And you never will be. You control your own destiny, not him."

The silence that followed felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was as if Todoroki was processing everything I had said, weighing my words against the years of resentment and hurt that had built up inside him. I didn't rush him. Sometimes, healing takes time, and this moment was no different.

Without warning, I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, right above the scar. It was an instinctual gesture—something I might have done to comfort a child, but it felt right in the moment. Todoroki froze, his eyes wide in shock, but he didn't pull away.

I smiled gently as I pulled back, watching his reaction closely. "You don't have to carry this burden alone anymore," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're allowed to let go."

For the first time, I saw something flicker in Todoroki's eyes. Surprise? Maybe. But there was something else too—something deeper. Gratitude, perhaps? Or maybe... hope? Either way, the change in him was undeniable.

Todoroki remained still, his body tense as if trying to comprehend the gesture. I wasn't sure if it was the kiss on the forehead or my words, but something had shifted in the air between us. The hard, impenetrable wall he had been holding up for so long was starting to crack.

A long moment passed before he finally moved. Slowly, cautiously, his arms lifted, wrapping around me in a hesitant embrace. I blinked, startled by the unexpected gesture. Todoroki... hugging me? That was something I hadn't anticipated.

His movements were stiff, awkward even, as if he wasn't sure how to properly give or receive affection. But there was no denying the emotion behind it. He was holding onto me as if I were a lifeline, his arms tightening slightly around my shoulders as if afraid that I might disappear if he let go.

I hesitated for a second, unsure of how to react, but then something inside me softened. It was clear that Todoroki needed this—needed to let out all the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long. So, I allowed myself to relax into the embrace, my arms wrapping gently around his back in return. The warmth of his body radiated through the thin fabric of our uniforms, and for the first time, I felt the depth of his struggle. The years of hurt, the constant battle between his fire and ice, and the lingering shadow of his father's influence.

Todoroki didn't say anything, but the way he held me spoke volumes. He was finally letting go—letting go of the guilt, the shame, the fear that had been weighing him down for so long. It wasn't just about me getting injured at USJ. This was about everything. His past, his identity, his future.

I could feel his breath against my shoulder, slow and steady, as if he was finally allowing himself to breathe for the first time in years. He wasn't just hugging me; he was seeking solace, seeking some form of peace that had eluded him for so long. And in that moment, I realized just how much this meant to him.

For a brief second, I almost laughed. If anyone saw us right now—Todoroki, the stoic and reserved student, hugging me like this—they'd probably think the world had turned upside down. But there was nothing funny about this moment. It was raw, it was real, and it was exactly what Todoroki needed.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled back, though not completely. His hands remained on my shoulders, his grip firm but not forceful. His expression had softened, the hard edges of his usual stoicism replaced with something far more vulnerable.

"I..." He hesitated, his voice rough with emotion. "Thank you."

It was just two simple words, but the weight behind them was immense. I smiled softly, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to thank me, Todoroki. I'm just glad I could be here for you."

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground as if he was still trying to process everything that had happened. But I could see it—the change. The resolve in his eyes, the way he stood a little taller, a little less burdened. He wasn't completely healed, not yet, but this was a start.

As we stood there, a comfortable silence settling between us, I couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth spread through me. This moment—this connection—was something I hadn't anticipated, but I was glad it had happened. Todoroki had been carrying his burdens alone for too long, and while I couldn't solve all his problems, I could at least offer him a shoulder to lean on.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

As we finally began to walk back toward the campus, side by side, I felt a subtle shift in the air between us. Todoroki was different now. Stronger, in a way. More sure of himself. And while there were still challenges ahead, I knew that this was a turning point for him.

For both of us, really.

And as I glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I couldn't help but feel that this was only the beginning of something much deeper.

Todoroki's simple "thank you" lingered in the air as we began walking back toward the main campus. For some reason, the silence between us felt... different now. It wasn't heavy or awkward, but instead warm, comfortable, as if we had silently acknowledged something deeper. The soft crunch of leaves beneath our feet became the only sound that filled the quiet, and I couldn't help but notice how calm everything felt after the storm of emotions that had just passed between us.

I stole a glance at Todoroki from the corner of my eye, watching how the late afternoon sun cast golden streaks through his dual-colored hair. He looked more relaxed than I'd ever seen him, the usual tension in his shoulders noticeably absent. There was a softness to his profile now, a quiet resolve that hadn't been there before. Something had changed in him.

But as my gaze lingered, I found myself focusing on the little details: the curve of his jaw, the way his eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took. Wait... what am I doing? I quickly looked away, feeling a sudden heat rise to my face. Why am I noticing these things?

Before I could even begin to unravel that thought, Todoroki suddenly stopped walking. I blinked, surprised by the abruptness of his halt, and turned to face him. His eyes were fixed on something ahead, but his expression was unreadable.

"Todoroki?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer to me—so close that I could feel the faint warmth radiating from his body. His presence suddenly felt overwhelming in the small space between us, and my heart gave an unexpected, rapid thud against my ribcage.

"I've been thinking," he said quietly, his voice steady but low. "About what you said. About my quirk, about how it's mine."

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "And?"

"And... I've never heard anyone say it like that before. Not even my mother." His eyes softened, and for the first time, I saw a vulnerability in them that made my chest tighten. "It means more to me than I can put into words."

I felt my pulse quicken again, unsure of how to respond. There was something in the way he was looking at me—something intense but tender, like he was searching for something in my expression, some kind of unspoken connection between us. My stomach flipped, the sensation both unfamiliar and unnerving.

Before I could fully process what was happening, Todoroki did something unexpected. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from my face, his fingers grazing my temple ever so lightly. The touch was so gentle, so fleeting, but it sent a jolt of warmth through me.

I blinked in shock, my breath catching in my throat. What... what is this? My mind raced, scrambling to make sense of the sudden shift between us. It wasn't like we hadn't been close before. We had fought together, trained together. I had seen Todoroki at his worst, his most vulnerable, and yet... this felt different.

His fingers lingered for a moment longer, and then, just as suddenly, he stepped back, his expression neutral once more. But the damage was done. My heart was pounding, my thoughts in disarray, and all I could do was stare at him, dumbfounded, as he turned to leave.

"I'll see you around, Seraphina," he said, his voice calm and steady as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. And with that, he walked away, his back disappearing into the golden haze of the setting sun.

I stood there, frozen in place, my body refusing to move even as the cool breeze rustled the trees around me. The world seemed to blur slightly at the edges, my mind spinning from what had just transpired. What just happened?

As soon as he was out of sight, my knees buckled beneath me, and I leaned heavily against the wall of the nearest building, pressing a hand to my chest as if that would somehow steady my erratic heartbeat. Calm down, calm down... it's just Todoroki. You've been through worse.

But no matter how many times I told myself that, I couldn't shake the warmth that lingered from his touch. It wasn't just the physical sensation, though that in itself was enough to leave me reeling. No, it was the way he had looked at me in those brief moments, the way his usually guarded expression had softened, as if he was letting me see a side of him no one else had. It was that tenderness—unexpected, raw—that left me feeling... mushy?

I frowned, confused by the strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. Mushy wasn't a word I usually associated with myself. I was the Saintess, after all. I dealt with crises, healed the injured, and faced dangers head-on without batting an eye. But this... this was different. This was new, and I didn't know what to make of it.

Why was I reacting this way? Sure, Todoroki had been going through a lot, and I had been there to help him through it. But that didn't explain the way my heart had skipped a beat when he touched my face, or why I was suddenly hyper-aware of every little detail about him—the way his hair caught the light, the softness in his eyes, the warmth of his hand...

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head as if that would somehow clear the confusion. No, no, no... this is ridiculous. It's just Todoroki. We're friends, allies. I helped him, that's all. There's nothing more to it.

But even as I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't deny the undeniable tug I felt in my chest. There was something there, something I hadn't noticed before. And the more I tried to ignore it, the stronger it seemed to grow.

I let out a frustrated sigh, leaning my head back against the wall and closing my eyes. What is this? Why do I feel like this?

And then, like a flash of lightning, the image of Midoriya came to mind. Midoriya—who had always been there, his earnest smile, his unwavering determination. He was someone I had admired, someone who had made my heart race with his pure kindness and drive. But now... now, something was different. The feelings I had harbored toward Midoriya throughout the week seemed to pale in comparison to what I had just experienced with Todoroki.

Why?

I didn't have an answer, not yet. But as I stood there, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me, one thing became clear: something had changed between Todoroki and me. It was subtle, barely noticeable on the surface, but it was there. A seed had been planted, a small spark that, if left unchecked, could grow into something more.

I wasn't sure what it meant, or where it would lead. But as I pushed myself off the wall and slowly made my way back to the dorms, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation. Something had shifted, and deep down, I knew that this was only the beginning of something I didn't quite understand yet.

But I was willing to find out.