The air still crackled with tension long after the final numbers fshed on the leaderboard. Bakugo had to be restrained by a teacher—his palms smoking, eyes wild—after Hikari stepped between him and Midoriya. He wasn't angry at losing. He was angry because it had all slipped out of his hands. Her, the moment, and whatever pride he had left.

  Hikari didn’t look back at him.

  She walked beside Midoriya, her hand cradling his as if it were made of gss, slowly channeling the soft glow of her healing quirk into his broken finger. He winced but smiled through it.“You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve waited for Recovery Girl.”

  “You’re not waiting on anyone while I’m here,” she muttered. Her tone was light, but there was fire behind her words.

  She gnced over as a few students watched curiously. One of them asked,“Wait, is healing your main Quirk or something?”

  Without looking up, Hikari replied coolly,“One of the main ones, yeah. I’ve got… several. Comes with the territory.”She didn’t eborate. She never did.

  The rankings appeared on the rge screen one st time. It's showed that Midoriya was second to st and Hikari is dead st.A small silence fell over the css. Todoroki stood with his arms folded with an expression unreadable as he gnced toward her. Hikari could feel it, the weight of his eyes. Not disappointment exactly but something just as sharp. She looked away.

  They had been training together in secret for weeks—after the exam, in the quiet hours when the city was still. The two of them would be found sparring, meditating and pushing each other to their limit. All without the watchful eye of their fathers. And now? She’d sandbagged the test.

  Again.

  From the shadows of the bleachers, a quiet conversation unfolded.

  “Still stubborn as hell, I see,” Aizawa said, eyes fixed on the students.

  All Might stood beside him in his skeletal form, arms crossed, posture slightly slumped.“She’s always been like that. Since she was a kid. Doesn’t like being watched. Doesn’t like people knowing she’s bleeding.”

  Aizawa grunted.“Geez, All Might. That daughter of yours hasn’t changed one bit since the st time I saw her. Back then, she barely reached my knee. Now she’s biting through her tongue just to keep others from knowing she’s in pain.”

  All Might didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on Hikari.“She doesn’t let me in much,” he said finally. “I missed too many years. She doesn’t trust easily anymore.”

  Aizawa tilted his head.“And what about you?”

  All Might blinked.“Me?”

  “Do you even know what she wants?”

  The rest of the day passed in a haze.

  By the time Hikari changed and left the building, she found Todoroki waiting by the gates. He didn’t say anything. Neither did she. They walked in silence through the streets, their footsteps in sync on the quiet pavement. It was a chilly te afternoon—long shadows cast across storefronts, the hum of distant traffic filling the spaces between them.

  Finally, she spoke.“You’re mad at me.”

  Todoroki didn’t stop walking, but his head tilted slightly.“No. Just… confused.”

  “I didn’t want to win today,” she said softly. “I promised our dad I’d get into UA. I never promised I’d stand out. I don’t want attention. Not yet.”

  He stopped then, turning to face her.“Why are you really here, Hikari?”

  Her lips parted, then closed. The wind tugged at her hair.

  “I’m not here because I want to be,” she said finally. “I’m here for Midoriya. I’m here to help him become the number one hero. That’s always been the pn.”

  Todoroki’s gaze didn’t waver.“And you?”

  “I don’t need to be a hero,” she whispered. “Not for the world. Just for him.”

  The silence between them thickened. Hikari expected him to mock her. Or scold her. Or worse—turn away.

  Instead, he nodded once, slowly.“I understand,” he said. “That’s why I’m here too. To prove something. Not for the world… but for someone.”

  They didn’t say who.

  They didn’t need to.

  Dinner was quiet.

  Todoroki sat at her tiny kitchen table, quietly spooning rice into his mouth. She sat across from him, fiddling with her chopsticks, barely touching her pte.

  “You cook better than I remember,” he said suddenly.

  She blinked.“You remember how I used to cook?”

  He gnced up.“You used to burn rice just to see if the smoke arm worked.”

  She ughed—a soft, surprised sound.“I guess I’ve changed a little.”

  He looked at her, his eyes soft.“You haven’t changed that much.”

  And for the first time in a while, she didn’t want to go home either.

  Not without him.