❄️🔥┊ Todoroki Shoto

The bustle in the classroom was like a constant current, the voices of his classmates intertwining with spontaneous laughter and fragments of conversations that bounced between the desks. Outside the room, the sky was clear and bright, a mild sun falling over the U.A. gardens, tinting the grass a vibrant green.

He already had his notebook open in front of him, although he hadn't written anything yet. His pencil spun between his fingers in an automatic rhythm, while his eyes scanned the usual scene of class 1-A: Uraraka and Tsuyu were talking animatedly with Yaoyorozu about a TV show, while Jirou played some low music on her phone and swayed her foot to the beat. Kirishima was laughing out loud at something Ashido had told him, who was wearing unnecessary sunglasses, even inside the classroom.

Bakugo... well, Bakugo looked like he was about to explode because Kaminari had started throwing paper airplanes at him from the other row, with questionable aim. With every hit, Bakugo frowned deeper, and Sero wasn't helping, recording the scene with stifled laughter.

Izuku smiled without realizing it. That atmosphere, chaotic and endearing, was something he had learned to treasure. Every voice, every gesture, every small moment remained etched in his mind.

The sliding door opened with a slight creak. Silence spread like a reflex, almost automatic. Aizawa-sensei entered, dragging his characteristic sleepy gait, his tired but alert gaze sweeping the classroom as a reminder that the calm only lasted as long as he allowed. His scarf hung disheveled, moving with every step.

—Let's begin —he murmured in his flat tone, as if the words were dragging rather than coming out. And although the bustle had died down, outside the sun continued to shine, imperturbable.