I woke to gentle pressure against my shoulder, the darkness behind my eyelids gradually giving way to Camie's face hovering inches from mine. Her blonde hair fell in a curtain around us, creating a private moment amid the sterile recovery room.
"Wakey wakey," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "It's time for school."
I blinked the sleep from my eyes, consciousness returning in stages. The exhaustion from Recovery Girl's quirk still lingered in my muscles, but the worst of it had passed. As I attempted to move, I realized my right arm was pinned against something warm and soft.
Turning my head, I found Hitomi slumbering beside me on the narrow recovery bed. Her dual-colored hair spilled across the pillow like paint on canvas, her usual guarded expression softened by sleep. One of her arms had wound around mine, pulling it snugly against her body. Her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of deep slumber.
I glanced back at Camie, eyebrow raised in silent question.
She grinned, settling back into the chair beside the bed. "Girl talk tired her out," she whispered, nodding toward Hitomi. "Recovery Girl's quirk hit her hard too. She tried to stay awake but crashed about five minutes after you did."
"And this?" I nodded toward my captive arm.
"That happened all on its own," Camie said. "Ice Queen gets cuddly when she's unconscious. Who knew?"
I considered extracting my arm but hesitated. Hitomi looked so peaceful. The perpetual furrow between her brows had smoothed out, and her full lips had parted slightly. It seemed almost cruel to disturb her when she so rarely allowed herself to relax.
"My arm's asleep," I murmured, flexing my fingers experimentally. Pins and needles shot through them, but I shrugged. "It's fine."
"The things you do for your women," Camie teased, keeping her voice low.
I rolled my eyes but didn't correct her. Instead, I carefully shifted to sit up straighter without disturbing Hitomi, who unconsciously tightened her grip on my arm. The small TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed showed the tournament stage, where Present Mic was just beginning the introductions.
"Perfect timing," I said, nodding toward the screen. "Can you turn it up? Just a little."
Camie reached for the remote on the bedside table, raising the volume just enough for us to hear without disturbing our sleeping companion. On screen, Momo and Bakugo took their positions at opposite ends of the concrete platform.
Momo stood tall, her posture perfect as always, though I noticed subtle signs of fatigue in the way she held herself. Her match against Camie had pushed her to her limits, and her reserves hadn't fully recovered. Still, determination radiated from her stance as she faced down Bakugo.
For his part, Bakugo looked ready to explode—literally. Small pops emanated from his palms as he cracked his knuckles, his signature scowl firmly in place.
"This is gonna be tight," Camie said, eyeing the limited space between Hitomi and me on the bed. Before I could respond, she slipped onto the mattress, practically draping herself over my left side. "Much better."
"There's a perfectly good chair right there," I pointed out, though I made no move to push her away.
"Yeah, but this has a better view." She nestled her head against my shoulder, her body warm against mine. "Besides, you make an excellent pillow."
On screen, Midnight raised her whip. "Begin!"
Bakugo launched himself forward immediately, explosions propelling him across the arena with frightening speed. Momo reacted just as quickly, her hand already glowing as she created a metal shield. It materialized just in time to block Bakugo's opening blast.
The impact sent her sliding back, but she maintained her footing. Without missing a beat, she created a staff from her other arm, swinging it in a wide arc that forced Bakugo to dodge back.
Bakugo snarled something inaudible over the TV's low volume, circling Momo with explosive bursts that kept him mobile and unpredictable.
"Yaomomo's gotten better," Camie observed. "Way more efficient than when I fought her."
I nodded. "She's adapting to her limitations. Look at her footwork—she's controlling the space."
On screen, Momo had begun creating caltrops, scattering them across the arena floor while maintaining her defensive position. The small, spiked obstacles limited Bakugo's ground movement, forcing him to rely more on aerial maneuvers that consumed more energy.
"Clever girl," Camie murmured appreciatively.
Bakugo, realizing her strategy, changed tactics. Instead of trying to close in, he launched a barrage of medium-range explosions, each carefully aimed to test different angles of her defense. One blast caught the edge of her shield, sending her staggering sideways.
He pressed the advantage, launching himself directly at her exposed flank. Momo twisted, creating what looked like a small cannon from her shoulder. It fired with a pneumatic hiss, releasing a net that expanded in midair.
Bakugo's reflexes saved him, a precisely timed explosion altering his trajectory just enough to avoid entanglement. He landed in a crouch, palms smoking.
"She's making him work for it," I noted, impressed by Momo's combat evolution. The training sessions we'd had were clearly paying off. "But she's burning through her reserves fast."
The observation proved prophetic. As the fight continued, Momo's creations came more slowly, each one smaller than the last. The telltale shimmer of her quirk dimmed with each use, while Bakugo maintained his relentless assault.
Camie shifted against me, her head resting on my shoulder for a better view. "She's running on empty."
Momo seemed to realize it too. With visible determination, she created one final item—a flash grenade. The moment it left her hand, she charged forward, surprising both Bakugo and the audience with her sudden offensive.
The grenade detonated in a burst of blinding light. Bakugo raised his arm too late, momentarily blinded. Momo closed the distance, wielding a small baton she must have created during the distraction.
For a moment, it seemed her gambit might work. The baton arced toward Bakugo's exposed side, a perfect strike that would have ended most fights.
But Bakugo wasn't most opponents.
Even blinded, his combat instincts were terrifying. He twisted away from the sound of her approach, one hand firing an explosion not at her, but at the ground. The force propelled him skyward and away from her attack, giving him precious seconds for his vision to clear.
When he landed, his expression had changed from irritation to something resembling respect. He wiped sweat from his brow, eyeing Momo with newfound wariness.
"That's it," I said softly. "She's got nothing left."
On screen, Momo stood her ground, baton held ready despite the slight tremor in her arms. Her creation quirk required calories and lipids—resources she'd depleted in her earlier match. The fact that she'd lasted this long spoke volumes about her growth.
Bakugo seemed to recognize it too. When he moved in for the final attack, there was no taunting, no excessive force. Just precise, controlled explosions that overwhelmed her guard and sent her tumbling to the edge of the ring.
She tried to rise, creating one last small shield that shattered against his next blast. The impact pushed her over the boundary line.
"Yaoyorozu is out of bounds!" Midnight announced. "Bakugo advances to the finals!"
Camie sighed, nestling closer. "Damn. She almost had him."
On screen, Bakugo approached Momo, extending a hand to help her up. The gesture surprised me—Bakugo wasn't known for sportsmanship. She accepted with a tired smile, exchanging brief words before they exited the arena.
"Wonder what he said to her," Camie mused.
"Probably told her not to lose next time," I guessed, knowing Bakugo's peculiar form of motivation.
A small sound drew my attention back to Hitomi with my peripheral vision. Her eyes had opened, cloudy with lingering sleep as they fixed on me. For a moment, confusion flitted across her face as she registered our position—her arm still wrapped around mine, her body pressed against my side.
Recognition dawned, followed immediately by a flicker of embarrassment. I expected her to pull away, to retreat behind her usual cool facade. Instead, after the briefest hesitation, her eyelids drooped closed again. She nestled closer, tightening her grip on my arm as if daring me to mention it.
I bit back a smile, exchanging a glance with Camie.
"So," Camie said, keeping her voice low, "looks like you're fighting dickhead in the finals."
"Looks that way."
"Nervous?"
I considered the question, watching as the tournament bracket updated on screen. My name and Bakugo's flashed side by side in the final match slot.
"Not nervous," I said finally. "But I need to be smart about this. Bakugo's powerful, but it's his newfound adaptability that makes him dangerous."
Camie nodded against my shoulder. "Plus he's got a hard on for beating you specifically."
"There's that too," I acknowledged dryly.
Hitomi stirred again, though she kept her eyes closed. Her head shifted slightly, bringing her face closer to my shoulder.
I decided to play along. "How long until the final match?"
Camie checked her phone. "They're giving it thirty minutes. Maintenance on the arena, plus recovery time for Bakugo."
"Good. I could use a little more rest myself." I settled back against the pillows, sandwiched between the two of them.
"Comfy?" Camie teased.
"Can't complain," I admitted. Despite the cramped space and my numb arm, there was something undeniably pleasant about the arrangement.
Camie's smile turned sly. "So, about that conversation Hitomi and I had..."
My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What about it?"
"Just girl talk," she said innocently. "Nothing for you to worry about."
"Somehow that makes me worry more."
Camie laughed softly, reaching up to trace her finger along my jawline. "You should. We were comparing notes."
"Notes on what?"
"You, obviously." Her finger trailed down to tap my chest. "Your strengths, weaknesses, preferences."
I raised an eyebrow. "Should I be concerned?"
"Definitely." Her grin widened. "But also flattered."
"I'm not sure which is more disturbing," I said, "the fact that you were discussing me like a science experiment, or that Todoroki participated."
"Oh please," Camie scoffed. "Like you and Bakugo don't compare notes on the girls in your class."
"We don't."
"Bullshit."
"We really don't," I insisted. "Mostly because any conversation with Bakugo inevitably devolves into him telling me to fight him."
Camie considered this, then shrugged. "Fair point. But still, you can't tell me you haven't noticed how the temperature drops whenever certain girls talk to you."
I felt Hitomi tense against me, the air around her right side cooling noticeably. Camie's eyes flicked toward her.
"I notice plenty," I said carefully. "I just don't gossip about it."
"Such a gentleman," Camie teased. "That's why the ladies love you."
I rolled my eyes. "Pretty sure it's my humble personality and good looks."
"Mmm, keep telling yourself that." Camie's hand settled on my chest, her warmth countering the chill emanating from Hitomi's side. "It's definitely not your modesty."
On the TV, the camera panned across the audience, focusing on various pro heroes in attendance. The sight of Endeavor's flame-wreathed figure sent another chill through the room.
"Speaking of things that might get you killed," Camie said, nodding toward the screen, "you realize Endeavor's probably plotting your fiery demise right now."
"Probably," I agreed. "Calling him an old geezer wasn't my smartest move."
"It was perfect," Camie countered. "The look on his face was priceless. Worth whatever consequences come your way."
I wasn't so sure. Endeavor's influence in the hero world was significant, and I'd made an enemy of him on national television. Still, seeing the way Hitomi had reacted to my words—the brief flash of appreciation in her eyes before our battle resumed—made it difficult to regret the impulse. Plus, I had All Might in my corner.
"We'll see," I said noncommittally.
Against my side, Hitomi shifted again, her "sleeping" adjustments bringing her face closer to my neck. Her breath tickled my skin, warm from her left side even as coolness radiated from her right.
"How's your arm?" Camie asked, noticing my slight grimace as I tried to flex my fingers.
"Dead," I admitted. "But it'll wake up eventually."
"Want me to rescue it?" She nodded toward Hitomi. "I could create an illusion of you still being there while you slip away."
I shook my head. "It's fine. Let her rest."
Camie's expression softened, her usual playfulness giving way to something more genuine. "You're too nice sometimes, Izu."
"Not nice," I corrected. "Strategic. A well-rested Todoroki is less likely to freeze me solid when she realizes I know she's been awake this whole time."
Hitomi went perfectly still against me, even her breathing pausing momentarily. The temperature plummeted so rapidly that frost formed on the metal rail of the bed.
Camie burst into laughter, quickly muffling it against my shoulder. "Oh shit, busted!"
Slowly, Hitomi opened her eyes. No trace of sleep remained in their mismatched depths as she fixed me with a glare. "How long have you known?"
"Since you first woke up," I admitted. "Your breathing changed, and you adjusted your position too precisely for someone who was actually asleep."
She considered this, her expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, she made no move to pull away. Instead, she simply said, "Your observational skills are irritating."
"Part of my charm," I replied.
"Debatable." Despite her cool tone, the corners of her mouth twitched upward. She glanced at my trapped arm. "Is your arm actually numb?"
"Completely dead. I lost feeling around the same time Midnight was introducing the match."
She looked faintly embarrassed but still didn't release me. "You could have said something."
"And miss the chance to see the great Hitomi Todoroki pretending to sleep just to avoid an awkward situation? Not a chance."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, frost creeping further along the bed rail. "I wasn't avoiding anything. I was conserving energy."
"Of course," I agreed solemnly. "Very tactical."
"You're mocking me."
"Never."
Camie snorted, earning a cold glare from Hitomi. "Don't mind me," she said, raising her hands in surrender. "Just enjoying the show."
Hitomi's gaze returned to me, assessing. After a moment, she finally released my arm and sat up. "You should prepare for your match," she said, her usual composure settling back into place like a familiar mask.
Blood rushed back into my arm, bringing with it the uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation of returning circulation. I flexed my fingers, wincing. "Still got some time."
"Which you should use wisely," she insisted. "Bakugo will be at full strength. You need every advantage."
Her practical concern surprised me. After our intense battle, I'd half-expected lingering resentment, not tactical advice.
"She's right," Camie said, sitting up as well. "Much as I hate to end cuddle time, you should stretch, hydrate, maybe go through some forms to get your blood flowing again."
They were both right, of course. Sighing, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, testing my weight cautiously before standing. My ribs protested with a dull ache, but Recovery Girl's quirk had done its work well. The pain was manageable.
"Alright," I conceded, rolling my shoulders to work out the stiffness. "I'm going to find some water, maybe walk around a bit to loosen up."
"Want company?" Camie offered.
I shook my head. "I need a few minutes to think. Strategy stuff."
She nodded, understanding without offense. "Cool. I'll hang with Ice Queen here, make sure she doesn't overdo it."
Hitomi looked like she wanted to object to both the nickname and the implication that she needed monitoring, but ultimately said nothing. Instead, she simply adjusted the bandages on her arm.
"See you after I win," I said, heading for the door.
As I stepped into the corridor, I heard Hitomi's voice behind me, quiet but clear:
"Don't lose."