Hitomi's heart hammered against her ribcage as Midnight's whip cracked the air. She wasted no time. The moment the match began, she slammed her right foot down, channeling her quirk through the concrete platform.
Ice erupted from the ground, a massive crystalline wall shooting upward and forward toward Midoriya. The barrier grew thick and fast, jagged spikes protruding from its surface as it raced across the arena floor. The temperature around her plummeted, her breath visible in small clouds.
Keep him at a distance. Control the battlefield.
The crowd gasped as the ice wall thundered forward—taller than in her previous matches, wider, more aggressive. She'd learned from watching his earlier fights. Midoriya excelled at close combat. She couldn't allow him near her.
But as the wall reached where he'd been standing, something impossible happened.
He wasn't there.
A rush of air brushed past her left side, and Hitomi spun, eyes widening as she found Midoriya standing less than a meter away, his green eyes locked on hers. He'd somehow moved from the front of her ice wall to behind her in the span of a heartbeat.
"Damn," he muttered, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "Had to use Flash Step already. You're not playing around, are you?"
Hitomi stumbled backward, shock momentarily overriding her training. No one had ever bypassed her initial ice attack so completely.
Her right hand thrust forward instinctively, another ice sheet erupting toward him. Midoriya dodged easily. Not the explosive speed of whatever technique he'd just used, but still faster than anyone she'd faced before.
"Is this all you've got, Todoroki?" he asked, circling her slowly. "Just ice?"
She gritted her teeth, sending another wave of frost across the ground. Midoriya leapt over it, his body twisting midair. He landed on her original ice wall, using it as a platform to launch himself toward her.
Hitomi created an ice shield just in time. Midoriya's fist connected with it, the impact reverberating through the frozen barrier and up her arm. Small cracks spiderwebbed from the point of impact, but the shield held.
Barely.
She pushed more power into her right side, thickening the ice. The cold bit into her skin, frost gathering along her arm and across her uniform.
Midoriya jumped back, studying her with those piercing green eyes. He didn't look winded. He didn't even look concerned.
"You're slowing down already," he observed. "Your body temperature drops when you overuse your ice, doesn't it?"
Hitomi didn't respond, instead creating a series of ice columns that shot upward around him. They converged from all sides, threatening to trap him in a frozen prison.
Midoriya moved like water through the columns, his body flowing between the gaps with impossible precision. Each motion connected seamlessly to the next—no wasted energy, no hesitation.
"Your ice is incredible," he said as he evaded another attack, "but you're fighting with one arm tied behind your back."
The words stung more than they should have. Hitomi sent a barrage of ice spikes toward him. Midoriya weaved through them, closing the distance again.
This time when he struck, her ice barrier shattered. She barely managed to create another before his second punch connected, but the impact drove her backward, her boots scraping against the concrete.
"You're not just fighting me, Hitomi," he said, his voice carrying across the space between them. "You're fighting yourself."
She scowled, frost gathering along her right eyebrow. "Shut up and fight."
"I am fighting." He gestured to the shattered ice around them. "You're the one holding back."
The accusation ignited something hot and uncomfortable in her chest. Her left side tingled, a phantom heat she'd spent years suppressing. She forced it down, channeling more power through her right side instead.
The temperature dropped further. Ice coated the entire battlefield now, transforming the concrete platform into a frozen landscape of spikes, walls, and treacherous footing. The crowd's noise seemed distant through the crystalline structures surrounding them.
Midoriya navigated the terrain with ease. She noticed his breathing remained steady, controlled. Her own came in short, visible puffs, her lungs burning from the cold she herself had created.
"How long can you maintain this before your body temperature becomes dangerous?"
Hitomi didn't answer. She couldn't afford to. Every word spent was energy wasted, and she needed all her focus to keep Midoriya at bay. She created another ice barrier, thicker than before, and sent it grinding across the platform toward him.
This time, instead of evading, Midoriya braced himself. His fist shot forward in a perfect arc, connecting with the center of the ice wall. The impact created a thunderous crack that echoed throughout the stadium.
The wall didn't shatter completely, but a deep fracture spread from the point of impact, splitting it nearly in half. Midoriya's knuckles came away bloody, but his expression remained unchanged.
"That hurt," he acknowledged, shaking his hand slightly. "Your ice is getting stronger. You're pushing yourself to the limit."
He was right. The cold had penetrated deep into her muscles now. Her right arm felt heavy, clumsy, her fingers numb. Frost coated her uniform across her entire right side, and her breath came in painful gasps.
I need to end this quickly.
She gathered her remaining strength, channeling it into her largest attack yet. The ice spread outward in all directions, engulfing everything in its path. Massive spikes erupted from the ground, walls rose and intersected, creating a labyrinth of frozen barriers.
For a moment, Midoriya disappeared from view, lost among the ice structures. The crowd fell silent, perhaps stunned by the scale of her quirk's power.
Hitomi allowed herself a moment of hope. Perhaps she'd finally trapped him, or forced him out of bounds with the sheer volume of ice.
Then she heard it—a strange sound, like air being displaced. She turned just in time to see Midoriya appear beside her, moving so fast that his form blurred.
"Flash Step," he explained, his voice calm despite the exertion such speed must have required. "A technique my master taught me. It's basically compressed movement—covering distance in an instant."
Before she could react, his hand shot out, gripping her right wrist. Not striking, just holding. His touch was warm against her frozen skin.
"Your body temperature is dangerously low," he said, his green eyes searching hers. "You need to warm up."
Hitomi tried to pull away, but her limbs felt sluggish, unresponsive. The cold had seeped too deep.
"Let go," she demanded, her voice trembling slightly from the cold.
"Use your left side," Midoriya said, still holding her wrist. "Your fire. Balance yourself before you get hurt."
"I don't need—"
"This isn't about your father anymore," he cut her off, his voice firm but not unkind. "This is about you. Your future."
Something in his words, or perhaps in the genuine concern in his eyes, reached past her defenses. The heat in her left side surged, responding to her weakened state. She fought it down by reflex, years of discipline keeping the flames contained.
"I won't use his power," she said through chattering teeth.
Midoriya's grip tightened slightly. "It's not his power, Hitomi. It never was."
He released her suddenly and stepped back, giving her space.
The words echoed in her mind, colliding with memories of her father's training, her mother's broken spirit, her own vow never to be the weapon Endeavor had designed her to be.
You can't be weak. You can't be too dependent on his strength.
Camie's words from their locker room conversation resurfaced unexpectedly. Was this what she'd meant? Was Hitomi's refusal to use her full power a strength or a weakness?
She didn't have time to contemplate further. Midoriya moved again, this time a normal dash rather than his Flash Step technique. She raised an ice barrier, but it formed slower than before, the cold having stiffened her muscles and slowed her reactions.
His fist connected with the barrier, shattering it completely. The impact sent her sliding backward across the ice. She struggled to keep her footing, creating small ice platforms to stabilize herself.
Her vision had begun to blur at the edges, her extremities numb. The rational part of her mind recognized the early signs of hypothermia—a dangerous state she'd pushed herself into before during her father's brutal training sessions.
I can't lose here. Not like this.
She planted her feet and sent another wave of ice toward him, but the attack lacked the power and precision of her earlier efforts. Midoriya dodged it easily, closing the distance between them once more.
"Your father doesn't own your fire," Midoriya said as he circled her. "Just like my master doesn't own the techniques he taught me. They're mine now. I use them my way, for my purposes."
He stopped directly in front of her, close enough that she could see the determination in his green eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks from exertion.
"Your power is yours, Hitomi. Not his. Never his."
Something shifted inside her chest—a crack in the ice she'd built around her heart. The heat in her left side pulsed stronger, responding to her weakened state and to something in Midoriya's words.
"I don't—" she began, but her voice caught as another wave of cold wracked her body.
The stadium around them seemed to fade into the background, the roar of the crowd becoming distant and muffled. In this moment, there was only Midoriya's voice and the conflict raging inside her.
"True freedom is using all of who you are, on your own terms, for your own reasons." His eyes held hers, unwavering. "Not because of him. Not despite him. Regardless of him."
The heat in her left side surged again, stronger than before. For the first time in years, Hitomi didn't immediately push it down. She let it simmer, feeling its warmth spread through her frozen limbs.
My power. Not his.
Midoriya stepped back, assuming a fighting stance. "Show me who Hitomi Todoroki really is. Not Endeavor's daughter. Not a half-powered hero. You."
The challenge in his voice sparked something deep inside her—not anger, but a different kind of fire. A desire to answer his call, to prove herself not just to him or the watching crowd, but to herself.
Her right side had reached its limit. Ice coated her arm, her movements stiff and painful. The cold had penetrated to her core, threatening to shut her body down completely.
Balance.
The word echoed in her mind. Not rejection. Not suppression. Balance.
Slowly, Hitomi reached for the heat she'd kept locked away for so long. It responded instantly, flooding her left side with warmth that spread through her frozen limbs. Steam rose from her body as the ice coating her right side began to melt.
The relief was immediate and overwhelming. Sensation returned to her numb fingers, the painful stiffness in her joints eased, her vision cleared.
"That's it," Midoriya encouraged, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Find your balance."
Flames flickered to life along her left arm, tentative at first, then stronger. Not the raging inferno of her father's quirk, but something more controlled, more refined. Her fire.
The crowd's roar suddenly penetrated her awareness again, the stadium erupting as they witnessed her flames for the first time. She caught sight of her father in the stands, his expression a mixture of shock and something that might have been satisfaction.
She looked away. This wasn't about him.
"Better?" Midoriya asked, still maintaining his fighting stance.
Hitomi nodded, surprised to find tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. The sensation of using both sides of her quirk simultaneously was foreign yet familiar—like remembering something long forgotten.
"Good," Midoriya said. Then, without warning, he launched himself toward her.
This time, Hitomi was ready. She met his advance with a combination of ice and fire, creating barriers with her right hand while sending controlled bursts of flame with her left. The two elements worked in harmony, complementing rather than opposing each other.
Midoriya dodged and weaved through her attacks, but now she could match his speed. The balance of hot and cold regulated her body temperature, preventing either extreme from slowing her down.
For the first time in the match, perhaps for the first time in her life, Hitomi felt truly whole.
The realization hit her with unexpected force. Each flame that sparked from her left side broke another chain her father had placed upon her. Each controlled burst of ice proved that she could master her power on her own terms.
Across from her, Midoriya's smile matched her own, his green eyes alight with something that looked remarkably like pride.
"The real battle starts now," he said, loud enough for only her to hear.
Hitomi nodded, gathering her power—both sides of it—for her next attack.
"Yes," she agreed, feeling truly herself for the first time in years. "It does."