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The winter internship period wasn't just a trial or the four students under Endeavor's wing; it was a nationwide mobilization of U.A.'s finest. While the streets of Musutafu crackled with the intense heat of the Number One Hero's patrol, other members of Class 1-A were finding their own rhythms in environments that couldn't be more different, each facing challenges designed to forge them into the next generation of protectors.
Miles away, on the sparkling blue expanse of the Oki Islands, Tsuyu Asui and Ochaco Uraraka were experiencing the "Sea Hero" life under the tutelage of Selkie, a hero whose intimidating appearance belied a surprisingly goofy demeanor — until the sirens blared.
"Ribbit... it's much colder than the last time we were here," Tsuyu remarked, her breath hitching as a spray of saltwater hit her green suit. Her camouflage abilities were being tested to their limit against the shifting greys and blues of the winter ocean.
"Stay focused, Uravity! Froppy!" Selkie's booming voice echoed from the bridge of the Okinamaru. "The currents are treacherous today, and the smugglers know it! They think the cold will slow us down. Show them why U.A. students are built differently!"
They weren't just patrolling for shipwrecks; they were hunting smugglers taking advantage of the year-end chaos to move illegal support items and quirk-enhancing drugs. When the call finally came — a distress signal from a cargo hauler being boarded — the two girls moved with a synchronized grace that spoke of months of growth and trust.
Ochaco used her Zero Gravity to lighten the cargo weights being tossed overboard, saving millions in equipment from sinking into the abyss. At the same time, Tsuyu intercepted fleeing divers with a precision that left Selkie's crew in awe. Her tongue was a whip in the water, binding villains before they could even activate their quirks.
Simultaneously, in the heart of a bustling metropolis, the "Dragoon Hero" Ryukyu was leading her own squad. Nejire Hado, Tsuyu's mentor from the Big Three, was joined by the towering figures of Nejire and the stoic resilience of the girls. Ryukyu's agency was a whirlwind of elegance and raw power. They navigated a hostage situation in a high-rise with a level of calm that made the surrounding police officers look like amateurs.
Nejire floated above the scene, her energy waves creating a dazzling, distracting light show, while Ryukyu, transformed into her massive dragon form, acted as a living shield for the hostages.
"Strength isn't just about the impact," Ryukyu told them later as they stood atop a skyscraper, the sunset reflecting off her golden claws. "It's about the presence you maintain when everyone else is looking for a reason to panic. You must be the anchor."
Even Kirishima, working under Fat Gum in Esuha City, was facing his own trials. The streets there were rougher, the villains more desperate.
Alongside Amajiki, he was learning that being a shield meant more than just hardening his skin; it meant putting his heart on the line to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Every bruise was a lesson, every broken wall a testament to his unbreakable spirit.
These lessons were being mirrored across the country. But for the group in the Endeavor Agency, the "presence" they were maintaining was currently being tested by a different kind of pressure: social obligation.
Meanwhile, our MC was facing a problem of his own.....
"No," Akaza said, his voice flat and final. He didn't even look up from the report he was reading on his tablet.
"Oh, come on, Snowflake! It's just a dinner!" Rumi was currently hanging upside down from a training bar in the Endeavor Agency's private gym, her white hair swaying like a pendulum. "Shoto invited the nerds, and Fuyumi specifically asked if 'the scary guy with the stripes' was coming because Shoto mentioned you. Apparently, Shoto talks about you. A lot. It's weirdly cute."
"I am not a party guy, Rumi. And I have work to do for Nezu. There are reports of residual Hassaikai activity in the lower districts that need verifying."
"Nezu said you're off the clock for the next twelve hours," Rumi grinned, dropping to the floor with a silent thud. She walked over, poking him in the chest with a calloused finger. "He literally texted me saying, and I quote, 'Make sure Asura socializes. It's good for his development.' Besides, I'm not going into that den of domestic trauma without backup. You've seen Endeavor's family. It's like a powder keg made of ice and fire waiting for a spark. I need someone there who can help me punch the awkwardness away."
Akaza looked at her, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes. Then he looked down at the small hand tugging on his sleeve.
Eri was standing there, dressed in a thick red coat with a fuzzy white collar that made her look like a small, festive marshmallow. She was holding her cat plushie tight to her chest. "Aki... is there going to be food? Rumi said there would be lots of food."
Akaza sighed, the sound of a man who knew he had already lost the war before the first battle had even begun. He couldn't leave Eri alone at the dorms if the staff were busy with end-of-year reports, and he certainly wasn't going to let Rumi take her to a high-ranking hero's house without him there to supervise. Not with Endeavor's… intensity.
"Fine," Akaza muttered, closing his tablet. "But if anyone asks me about my 'hero philosophy' or tries to analyze my quirk, I'm leaving. Through a window if necessary."
"Deal!" Rumi cheered, pumping a fist. "Go get changed. Wear something that doesn't scream 'I'm an assassin'."
***
The Todoroki estate was a traditional Japanese mansion that felt more like a fortress than a home. High walls surrounded the property, and the architecture was imposing, built to withstand — and hide — the intense quirks of its inhabitants. The sliding doors and manicured gardens were beautiful in a stark, disciplined way, but a heavy silence seemed to hang over the wood-paneled hallways, a silence born of years of secrets and pain.
Fuyumi Todoroki greeted them at the door, her smile bright but nervous, her eyes darting between the guests as if expecting a fight to break out at any moment. "Welcome! Oh, thank you all for coming! Shoto, Izuku-kun, Bakugo-kun... and oh!" She paused, her eyes widening as she saw the tall, tattooed man standing behind Rumi, with a small, white-haired girl hiding behind his leg. "You must be Akaza-san. And this is Eri-chan? She's precious!"
"She is," Akaza said simply, stepping inside. He looked around, his senses instantly scanning for exits and threats. It was an instinct he couldn't turn off, a reflex honed by two lifetimes of combat. He noted the structural weak points, the sightlines, and the potential escape routes.
'Never hurts to be cautious, especially with the future info now thrown out of the window.'
The dinner table was... awkward. On one side sat the interns: Izuku was vibrating with politeness, his hands folded neatly in his lap. Bakugo looked like he wanted to explode the bowl of mapo tofu just to end the silence, his spoon gripped like a weapon. Shoto sat with his usual stoic detachment, though his eyes occasionally flickered to his siblings, gauging their reactions. Rumi sat next to Akaza, who had Eri perched on a booster seat between them, cutting her food into small, manageable pieces.
At the head of the table sat Enji Todoroki — Endeavor. He looked out of place in a simple yukata, his massive frame seeming to dwarf the furniture. His flames were dimmed to a low glow, but his presence still filled the room like a heavy weight, a constant reminder of the power and the history that defined this house. His eldest son, Natsuo, sat as far away from him as possible, his face a mask of barely suppressed resentment, his eyes fixed firmly on his plate.
"Thank you for the food," Izuku squeaked, breaking the silence as Fuyumi brought out more dishes, her hands trembling slightly.
"It's no trouble! I'm just glad Shoto brought friends home," Fuyumi said, her voice slightly too high, too eager. "It's been so long since we had a full table. And it's an honor to have dad's colleagues here."
"I'm not his colleague," Rumi barked out a laugh, grabbing a chicken skewer and tearing into it. "I'm the one who makes sure he doesn't get too bored on patrol. Keeping the old man on his toes."
Endeavor grunted, taking a bite of rice. "Usagiyama's performance has been... adequate. She lacks discipline, but her instincts are sharp."
"Adequate?!" Rumi slammed a hand on the table, grinning fiercely. "I took down that giant villain in the industrial district before you even got your boots off the ground! You were still monologuing!"
"I was securing the perimeter," Endeavor countered. "A hero must ensure collateral damage is minimized."
Natsuo stood up abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor like a scream. "I'm done. Thank you for the food, sis."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Fuyumi's smile faltered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Endeavor looked down at his plate, his massive shoulders tensing, accepting the blow but unable to deflect it.
Izuku looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Bakugo just chewed his rice louder, eyes narrowed, watching the drama unfold.
Then, a small, soft voice broke the gloom.
"Is the fire man sad?"
Everyone turned. Eri was staring at Endeavor, her head tilted to the side. She was holding a piece of tamagoyaki with her chopsticks, her big red eyes full of genuine curiosity. She didn't know the history. She didn't know about the abuse or the training. She just saw a big man with sad eyes.
Endeavor looked at the child. He had faced High-End Nomu and terrifying villains, but he seemed completely paralyzed by the gaze of a small child. "I... I am fine, child."
"Your fire is small," Eri observed, pointing at the low flames on his face with her chopstick. "When I saw you on TV, it was big and scary. Like a monster. But now it looks like a candle. It's... warm." She reached out a tiny hand, as if to touch the warmth, but Akaza gently caught her wrist.
"Don't touch the stove, Eri," Akaza said softly, pulling her hand back. He looked at Endeavor. The two men locked eyes. Akaza saw the guilt, the desperate, clumsy attempt at atonement. He had seen it in many men before they broke — or before they found a way to live with their sins. He saw a man trying to rebuild a house he had burned down.
"Eri is right," Akaza said, his voice carrying a strange weight that silenced even Natsuo, who had stopped at the doorway, his hand on the frame. "A flame that burns too high consumes everything around it. It consumes the oxygen, charring the walls. A hearth fire, however, keeps the house warm. It sustains. It takes more strength to stay small, to control the burn, than it does to explode."
Endeavor stared at Akaza. He knew who this man was — the 'Ghost of U.A.', the one Nezu kept in the shadows, the one who had eliminated Muscular. He saw the scars on Akaza's soul that matched his own, though born of different tragedies. He saw a kindred spirit in the burden of power.
"I am learning," Endeavor rumbled, his voice lower than it had been all night, stripped of its usual bravado. "To be a hearth. It is... difficult."
The atmosphere shifted. It wasn't "fixed"; years of trauma couldn't be erased in a single dinner, but the suffocating weight lifted just enough to breathe. Natsuo didn't sit back down, but he didn't leave either; he leaned against the doorframe, watching, his expression thoughtful.
Rumi, sensing the opening, nudged Shoto with her elbow. "Hey, Icy-Hot, pass the cold soba. I bet I can eat more than you. Loser does extra laps tomorrow."
"That is an illogical challenge," Shoto replied, but he passed the tray anyway, a competitive glint in his eyes. "But I accept."
"I'm winning!" Bakugo barked, suddenly joining in, slamming his bowl down. "I'll eat all of you under the table! None of you extras can handle spice as I can!"
"Please don't choke!" Izuku cried, waving his hands frantically.
Fuyumi started laughing, a genuine, relieved sound that seemed to brighten the room. She looked at Akaza and Rumi with profound gratitude. They hadn't solved the problem, but they had given them a moment of normalcy.
As the night went on, the Todoroki mansion felt a little less like a fortress and a little more like a home. Eri, having finished her meal, had wandered over to Shoto; his dual-colored hair always fascinated her. Shoto, with a rare, microscopic smile, was using his right hand to create tiny ice sculptures of cats and rabbits for her, placing them in her small hands.
Akaza sat back, crossing his arms, watching Eri. He felt Rumi lean her shoulder against his, her warmth seeping into him.
"See?" she whispered. "Not so bad."
"It's messy," Akaza replied, watching Natsuo finally sit back down to finish his meal.
"Yeah, well, most things worth having are," she retorted. "You can't fix everything with a punch, Asura. Sometimes you just have to show up."
As the interns and guests eventually gathered their things to head back to the agency and the dorms, Endeavor stood by the door. He stopped Izuku for a moment.
"Midoriya," Endeavor said. Izuku straightened up, his back rigid. "Your analysis of my movement during the chemical fire... it was insightful. You noticed the lag in my left side propulsion. Keep watching. But stop trying to be the light of the past. Be the light that is needed now. The world doesn't need another All Might. It needs you."
Izuku beamed, a wide, teary-eyed smile that lit up his face. "Yes, sir! I will!"
Outside, the winter night was clear and freezing. The stars were bright above the city, pinpricks of light in the velvet darkness. As they walked toward the car that would take them back, Eri was riding on Akaza's shoulders, her hands tucked into his hair for warmth.
"Aki?" she whispered, leaning down.
"Yes, Eri?"
"The fire man's house was nice. It smelled like soup. And he wasn't scary. He was just... big."
Akaza looked back at the Todoroki estate, where the lights were still on in the windows. He saw Fuyumi waving from the porch.
"Yes," Akaza said, his voice catching the wind. "It did."
The pillars of the new generation walked forward, their shadows long under the streetlights. They were tired, they were still learning, and they were far from perfect. But as they headed back into the fray of their internships, they carried more than just the weight of their quirks. They carried the warmth of a hearth that had finally begun to glow.
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