BOOM.
A thunderous boom splits the air as the ice trail shatters violently, blown apart in an instant. The force reverses, hurling the destruction of ice and wind back toward Todoroki.
He reacts instinctively—an ice slab surges up in front of him.
The collision slams into the barrier with far more force than he expects.
Todoroki is driven backward, the slab fracturing beneath the pressure.
The next second, both he and the shattered ice are thrown clear of the building, crashing onto the sidewalk outside.
Concrete cracks on impact.
Todoroki rolls hard across the pavement, shoulder scraping concrete before he slams into the metal railing lining the curb.
The railing buckles inward with a metallic groan.
For a moment, he doesn't move.
Then his fingers tighten against the bent steel.
He forces himself up—not fully standing—just enough to steady his balance, boots sliding slightly on fractured concrete. His breath leaves him in a sharp exhale, cold mist curling from his lips.
His eyes snap to the doorway—
—and Izumi step out from the shadows, unhurried, lightning fading but not gone.
Still calm.
Still centred.
Todoroki attacks again, thrusting his arm forward.
And again.
Ice surges in waves—larger denser, more refined with each strike. Barrage after barrage fills the street, swallowing the space between them.
Izumi doesn't retreat.
Each time he meets it with his fists.
BOOM.
The shockwave rips through the pavement, splintering frost and concrete alike. The recoil forces Todoroki back into the already-damaged railing—
It snaps loose entirely this time.
He crashes through it and skids across cracked asphalt.
He doesn't rise completely.
One knee digs into the street. One hand braces against the ground.
His other arm moves again,
Another surge.
Larger.
Denser.
BOOM.
Izumi doesn't retreat.
Each time—
He meets it with his fists.
Each strike collapses Todoroki's attacks outward, the recoil pushing him farther down the street. Asphalt fractures. Ice litters the ground in broken slabs and mist.
Seven times.
Eight.
Nine.
Each barrage grows heavier.
Each counter lands harder.
By the eleventh strike, Todoroki is forced across the width of the street entirely, skidding over asphalt until he reaches the opposite curb.
He drops to one knee.
Palm pressed to the ground.
Breath heavy and uneven now.
He lifts his head.
Izumi stands exactly where he began.
The same place.
Unmarked.
Unmoved.
Expression unchanged.
Around Todoroki, destruction stretches in every direction—cracked pavement, shattered ice, twisted metal rails, frost steaming against fractured concrete.
Izumi hadn't taken a single step back.
***
The monitoring room erupts again.
"That's insane—!" Sato breathes. "That's not normal strength…"
"He's not even dodging!" Sero blurts, leaning forward. "He's just standing there!"
Jiro twirls her earphone jacks between her fingers, eyes wide but focused on the screens. "He didn't move! He didn't even step forward!"
Iida's glasses catch the light as he adjusts them sharply. "The recoil alone should be destabilising—yet he remains perfectly grounded!"
Midoriya's hands tremble as he mutters incoherently. "He's converting speed into direct impact without losing balance… that control—"
Bakugo's teeth grind.
His gaze doesn't leave the screen.
'He's forcing Todoroki back without chasing him.
He's dictating the field.
Not reacting.
Controlling.'
Back on the street—
Todoroki tries to rise.
His body protests.
He grits his teeth and forces himself upright, legs shaking as he straightens. His breathing is uneven now—too fast, too shallow.
He looks at Izumi.
Then down at himself.
His costume is torn and cracked with ice damage. The frozen armour that once coated his left side has shattered away, leaving bruises beneath. Frost creeps along his skin, the cold biting deeper as exhaustion sets in.
His chest tightens as he struggles to draw breath.
Slowly, he lifts his gaze again.
Back to Izumi.
Who stands there calmly.
As if none of this has touched him.
As if the fight hasn't truly begun.
***
Inside the building.
Hagakure feels it.
A low, rolling tremor passes through the floor, subtle at first—then stronger. Dust rattles loose from the ceiling. The air hums faintly, like pressure building before a storm.
"…Whoa," she murmurs.
Another shockwave ripples through the walls.
She turns toward the windows and pads over quietly, bare feet making no sound. One hand presses against the edge of the window as she peers out.
Her breath catches.
Outside, the street is ruined—ice, broken concrete, bent railings scattered like debris after an explosion. At the centre of it all stands Izumi.
And across from him—
Todoroki.
Barely standing.
Hagakure swallows.
"…Izumi…"
***
Back outside.
Todoroki forces himself upright again.
His vision swims, but he steadies it—locks his eyes forward.
For the first time since stepping outside, Izumi speaks.
"Todoroki," he says calmly. "Do you really think using half of your strength is enough to beat me?"
As he speaks, he raises both arms slightly to his sides, palms up—slow, deliberate. An almost theatrical gesture.
A presentation.
As if inviting Todoroki to look.
Shattered concrete.
Ice pulverised into glittering debris.
Destroyed fencing.
Cracked asphalt.
The distance Todoroki has been driven.
"Either fight with everything you have," Izumi continues, "or forfeit."
The wind moves between them.
Todoroki's breath catches.
For a split second, the world narrows.
His left side aches—cold biting deep into muscle and bone. His lungs burn. His vision swims, the edges dimming in and out as adrenaline struggles to keep him upright.
'Half… Strength…'
The words echo louder than any impact ever did.
A memory flickers.
Training fields scorched black.
A towering silhouette framed in flame.
More
Again.
You were born for this.
His father's voice —sharp. Demanding. Unyielding.
Another memory surfaces, uninvited.
A hospital room.
White walls.
His mother's trembling hands.
The smell of antiseptic.
Silence that hurt worse than shouting ever could.
His jaw tightens.
'No.'
His shoulders tremble as exhaustion claws through him. Frost creeps higher along his skin, biting deeper now, leeching warmth from muscles and nerve alike.
'I won't use it.'
He lowers his gaze briefly.
"I won't…' His voice hoarse. 'My ice—"
He lifts his head, eyes hard despite the strain.
"My ice is enough."
He plants his foot.
And the world slows.
To Izumi, time fractures into pieces.
What would be instantaneous to anyone else stretches into layered motion.
Behind Todoroki, the air crystallizes.
Moisture condenses in violent succession — molecule by molecule — racing outward in expanding lattices. Frost spreads along microscopic cracks in the asphalt before bursting upward in jagged pillars. Each layer locks into the next with brutal precision.
It isn't just ice.
It's pressure.
Density.
Compression.
A frozen tide building mass faster than gravity can pull it down.
The street groans as foundations buckle beneath the expanding weight. Steel reinforcement bars warp inside concrete. Windows along the block frost over from the sudden temperature drop.
The wave swells.
One enormous crest — coiling, thickening, rising higher than the street lights — poised to consume everything ahead.
To anyone else, it would appear instant.
To Izumi—
He sees every fracture forming.
Every weak point.
Every seam.
Blue-white lightning coils around him.
Then—
He moves.
***
Back to the world as it is.
A flash of light splits the air.
He's gone.
Todoroki's eyes widen—
—and Izumi is suddenly there, reappearing directly in front of him, suspended a few feet above the ground, lightning threading tightly around his body.
There is no time to react.
No time to brace.
A fist fills his vision.
The impact lands.
Not outward—but down.
Todoroki is driven straight into the street.
The sound comes a heartbeat later.
The ground fractures violently, spiderweb cracks racing outward across the entire road.
Light poles snap at their bases and topple. The facades of nearby buildings implode inward as shockwaves tear through concrete and steel.
Behind them—
The towering ice wave collapses.
Shattered.
The force travels backward through its structure. Fractures ripple through the frozen mass before it detonates into a blinding storm of ice shards and vapour, disintegrating mid-formation. What was moments ago a frozen tidal wall becomes mist and splintered crystal raining uselessly to the ground.
Dust and debris explode into the air.
When it settles—
Izumi is crouched above him, fist still buried where Todoroki's face met the ground.
And yet—
The asphalt directly beneath Todoroki remains intact.
Untouched.
As if the destruction deliberately flowed around him instead of through him.
Izumi straightens slowly.
Todoroki lies beneath him, barely conscious, chest heaving unevenly as pain floods every nerve in his body, breath. His vision blurs. His body refuses to respond.
Izumi steps aside and looks down at him.
He's quiet for a moment.
Then—
"If you cripple yourself just to defy someone else," Izumi says quietly, "you're the one taking the damage."
Todoroki forces his eyes to stay open. His teeth clench as the words settle deeper than the impact did.
"You don't lose because of your opponent," Izumi continues. "You lose the moment you decided not to use what's yours."
The world tilts.
Sound fades.
The last thing Todoroki hears is the faint crackle of lightning dissipating as Izumi turns away.
Then darkness claims him.
***
Monitoring Room.
Silence.
Not the stunned kind.
The heavy kind.
Kirishima's hands are clenched into fists. "That was—holy—"
"What—what was that?!" Kaminari yells.
Uraraka's mouth is still open, one hand pressed to her chest. "He… he didn't even let it finish…"
Iida is rigid, glasses reflecting the screen. "The engagement time was under two minutes. That level of control—"
Midoriya is frozen, staring. "…He controlled the dispersion… perfectly…"
Bakugo doesn't speak.
His jaw clenched.
'So that's it.'
No wasted motion.
No grandstanding.
No hesitation.
He exhales sharply.
"So damn fast…"
***
Izumi steps out into the open, lightning long since faded.
He glances slight to his left.
"We're done here, Hagakure."
A pause.
"…Huh?"
For a moment, nothing is there.
Then—two gloves rise slowly into view from behind a broken slab of concrete, as if floating upward on their own. Dust slides off invisible shoulders as she stands.
"T—That's not fair!" Hagakure protests, her gloves flaring animatedly as her unseen arms wave.
"Even all this chaos doesn't mess with your senses?!"
Izumi doesn't look surprised.
"It would be inconvenient if it did."
She flails both gloved hands dramatically in front of him. "You didn't even pretend to look for me!"
"Sure," he replies calmly, turning toward the building. "I'll do that next time."
She pauses mid-gesture.
"…Wait. You will?"
Hagakure stands there a second too long—
Then scrambles after him.
"You're impossible, you know that?!"
Behind them, support bots roll into the ruined street, surveying the devastation.
"Damage levels exceed exercise threshold," one mutters mechanically. "Maintenance workload increased by forty—"
Izumi walks past without slowing.
Hagakure winces, glancing apologetically at the machines.
"Eheh… sorry?"
***