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One
January arrived like a sudden chill in the air. For Class 3-A, the weight of their final term was unlike anything they had experienced before. The end of their third year loomed like an insurmountable mountain, and with graduation on the horizon, the future seemed simultaneously closer and farther away than ever before.
Izuku, as always, was doing his best to hold it together. The past few months had been a blur of intense hero training, internships, and applications for hero agencies whose advertisements were flooding their inboxes. It wasn’t just about becoming a pro hero anymore—it was about figuring out the next steps, making decisions that would affect the rest of their lives.
Despite the anxiety hanging over them, there was one bright spot: the announcement for the U.A. Softball League. Teams were comprised of the different classes, quirks were somewhat allowed, and the league was meant to bring together the students for fun and to crush rival classes. The signup sheet had appeared on the dorm’s bulletin board, and before long, it was covered in the names of their classmates.
“Are you signing up?” Izuku asked, looking at Todoroki, who was standing silently in front of the board, his face as unreadable as ever.
Todoroki hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I’m in.” His voice was calm, but Izuku could hear the subtle tension behind it. It wasn’t that Todoroki wasn’t interested in the game—it was just that, like all of them, he was grappling with the realization that this was their final year together. It was all coming to an end too quickly.
Izuku’s heart skipped a beat. Despite everything, the thought of a team—a break from the crushing weight of their responsibilities—felt like some small refuge. He signed up immediately, glancing back at Todoroki, who had already walked away from the bulletin board, his focus elsewhere.
It wasn’t just Todoroki; all of Class 3-A seemed eager to sign up. Kyoka was there, her usual confident demeanor only slightly betrayed by the way she tapped her fingers against the paper nervously. Momo, ever graceful, smiled warmly as she filled in her name, while Bakugo scowled as he scribbled his, muttering about how “carrying these extras” would be "a waste of my fuckin’ time" but making sure to add his name anyway.
Izuku had always loved baseball, especially the camaraderie that came with team sports. The softball team wasn’t just an extracurricular activity; it was a way for the class to bond again in a way they hadn’t been able to with everything else going on.
The first practice arrived quickly. The weather was chilly, but the excitement of starting something new was enough to keep everyone energized. The team assembled on the field, a mix of heroes-in-training, some eager, some reluctant.
“Alright, everyone!” Momo called out, her usual calm confidence making her the natural leader of the group. “Let’s start with some warm-ups. We’re not going to make this easy—you’ll need to be prepared for everything, whether it’s fielding, hitting, or running the bases. We’ll run through the basics first, and then we’ll get into some drills.”
Izuku could feel his heart beating faster as they split up into groups. As he jogged alongside Todoroki, a wave of anxiety hit him. They were classmates, friends even, but there was an undeniable tension between them. After years of hero training, of fighting both terrifying villains and abusive fathers , their friendship had evolved into something more, something neither of them were ready to label. But being in close proximity, like this, during practice, made the atmosphere feel electric.
“Ready to lose, Deku?” Bakugo shouted from the far side of the field, his usual bravado making Izuku smile despite the nerves twisting in his stomach.
“Didn’t you captain our tee-ball team to zero wins?” Izuku called back, trying to keep his voice light.
Todoroki didn’t respond to Bakugo’s further heckling, his attention already on the warm-up drills. He was reliable, focused, the way he always was—but Izuku could sense the quiet undercurrent of distraction. It was almost as though Todoroki was thinking about something much bigger than just the game, even if he never said anything about it.
The team practiced in high spirits, embracing their newfound distraction. Their quirks and abilities came in handy, especially when it came to running or throwing the ball with precision. Todoroki’s control over ice made for a near-perfect pitcher, while Momo’s quirk had her coming up with new gear to make their practice more effective. Kyoka’s steady presence and sound-powered catching made her a great catcher, and even Bakugo’s fiery competitiveness made him a powerhouse at the plate. Izuku, meanwhile, became a utility player; his scrappiness and fielding strength made him a threat wherever he was.
When it was Izuku’s turn to practice batting, his nerves felt like they were running wild. He had always been determined, but lately, with everything pressing in on him, it was harder to focus. The field felt larger than it should, and the distance between the bases seemed further. When the first pitch came at him, he swung—and missed. The sound of the bat cutting through air was the only noise he could focus on, the disappointing feeling of a strike hanging in the air.
Todoroki, watching from the mound, shifted on his feet, his hands tucked into his jacket. He said nothing, but his eyes met Izuku’s for a moment. Izuku’s stomach fluttered, though he couldn’t quite explain why.
Todoroki pitched again, and Izuku focused on the ball’s movements. While his swing was weaker than he would have liked, the result remained; a single, and his first ever hit (he had been horrid at tee-ball).
Todoroki slightly smiled while watching Izuku run, and Izuku wanted nothing more than to see that smile appear again.
Two
The first game came faster than anyone expected. The stakes were higher than just winning; it was about putting everything they had into it—together.
Izuku stood at the plate again, the bat heavy in his hands. This time, the tension felt different. His teammates were behind him, but the weight of their upcoming futures hung in the air. Graduation was in two months, and everything was uncertain. Some of them had already sent applications to agencies, while others were still figuring out what they wanted to do. The game, though? The game was a distraction.
Momo had batted them into a 2-1 lead (with Kyoka’s loud cheering making the entire class something more was going on there), but a good inning from Class 2-E had tied the game again. Izuku’s at-bat would be crucial to either securing the game or delivering a close loss.
Todoroki stood on second base, eyes fixed on Izuku, ready for the pitch. The cool breeze ruffled his hair, and for a moment, Izuku was struck by how much they had changed. They were no longer just classmates, training for the same goal. They were on the verge of being separate people, heading into the real world. Izuku didn’t know what to make of the feelings brewing between them, but at that moment, he wasn’t sure if he cared.
The ball came. Izuku swung, and the sharp crack of the bat was all he could focus on. This time, he connected. The ball flew far and away, arcing high into the sky before landing deep in the outfield. Immediately, the opposing right fielder scrambled to get the ball.
“Hell yeah!”, someone yelled from the sidelines. Izuku grinned, his heart racing, but his eyes were still on Todoroki. For just a moment, the future didn’t seem so daunting.
As Izuku rounded the first and second, his heart was pounding. He wasn’t just excited about the hit, the team’s first-ever triple; he was excited about the moment. He was excited about Todoroki’s quiet approval as he crossed home plate on Ashido’s single, the way their teammates cheered for both of them as they won the first game. It felt like a spark—a new beginning.
Todoroki was silent as usual, but his eyes lingered on Izuku longer than necessary. There was something unsaid in that look, something that made Izuku’s chest tighten.
It was just a game. A simple game, a hard-fought win. But as they gathered together at the dugout, the mix of exhaustion and adrenaline filled the air. While the game was done, the rest of the semester and its challenges were still present in their minds.
Three
The days after the first game passed in a blur. February had arrived, and with it, the creeping realization that graduation was just two months away. For Class 3-A, the excitement of being in their final year was quickly replaced with the stress of application deadlines, career decisions, and the weight of the future bearing down on them.
Izuku was no different. His desk was a mess of applications, cover letters, and agencies he still wasn’t entirely sure about. He was grateful for the breaks between classes, though they came few and far between. His mind was always occupied with the thought of where he’d be when the semester ended. Would he get into the agency he wanted? Would he live up to the expectations placed on him as a hero-in-training?
His mind wandered frequently during their practices, which were becoming more intense as the team began to gel. They’d started running drills in full gear, practicing their plays, refining their skills. It felt like something more than just a team sport now—it was a means to hold onto the present. Every play, every run, every throw was a small act of defiance against the uncertainty that loomed. Softball grounded them, gave them some semblance of control amidst an uncontrollable future.
On the field, things were more relaxed, but the pressures were still there. The team met for practice twice a week, and every session brought out new dynamics between them. Todoroki, as always, was focused, but Izuku noticed the subtle shifts in his behavior. It was like he was going through the motions of being present, but his mind was somewhere else, just like everyone else’s.
Todoroki stood by the fence during a practice session, watching their fielding drills. His arms were folded across his chest, his gaze distant. As Izuku prepared for his next turn, he couldn’t help but glance over at Todoroki. The lack of words between them had become something of a comfort and a challenge. Sometimes, it felt like there was a lot left unsaid.
“Izuku, you’re up!” Momo’s voice brought him back to the present. Izuku nodded, taking a deep breath and stepping up to bat. He was focused—this time, he was determined to hit it out of the park again. But even as the ball came toward him, he could feel Todoroki’s eyes on him. The way Todoroki had been looking at him lately was different, sharper, even though they hadn’t spoken about it. Izuku had noticed the same look on Yaomomo’s face when she looked at Kyoka, like she was observing all of her.
Izuku swung, and the ball hit the bat with a satisfying crack. It sailed through the air, but this time failed to reach the distance of his earlier bat. A double. The team cheered, but there was something in the way Todoroki’s expression softened, something in the subtle shift of his posture that made Izuku’s heart skip a beat.
“You did good,” Todoroki said, walking toward him after the play. His voice was soft, almost too quiet for the usual banter on the field. Izuku couldn’t help but grin, his face flushing slightly under the praise.
“Thanks, Todoroki,” Izuku replied, trying to sound casual, though his stomach fluttered. It wasn’t just the compliment—it was the way he felt around Todoroki, some supercharged level of attraction like Kaminari in the shower.
After practice, the team gathered in the locker room to change. As everyone joked around, sending Kacchan’s snide comments back and forth with Kyoka’s playful teasing, Izuku found his thoughts drifting back to Todoroki again. The other students were filling out their applications for the pro agencies, and the pressure was growing. Yet, when it came to Todoroki, Izuku wasn’t sure what direction he was heading in. Todoroki had always been a mystery, but now, it felt like there was something more—something that had been unspoken for far too long.
Izuku sent out his own applications late that night, after much internal debate. One For All was powerful, but he still wasn’t sure if he could handle the weight of a pro hero life just yet. The self-doubt had always been there, but now, it felt more pressing.
Yaomomo had suggested they all help each other with their applications, but Izuku couldn’t find the right words. He wasn’t even sure what kind of pro hero he wanted to be, just like his baseball position.
Four
By the time the second game rolled around, the team had started to find its rhythm. The first game had been a rush of adrenaline, a clash of nerves and excitement, but now, there was a sense of purpose in the air. This game wasn’t just about having fun anymore. This was about proving themselves. The stakes felt higher than ever, and as they stood in the locker room before heading out onto the field, the weight of the world seemed to bear down on them.
The quiet hum of the team preparing was interrupted by Bakugo’s usual scowl. “We’re gonna win this, or I’ll make sure none of you extras can walk straight for a week. Got it?”
Kyoka chuckled, her fingers tapping the side of her headphones as she fixed her batting gloves. “Relax, Bakugo. You’re giving everyone anxiety.”
“It’s just motivation,” he snapped back, but there was no real bite to his words. Even he couldn’t hide the excitement he felt, even if he tried to cover it with a tough exterior.
Izuku adjusted his cap, trying to calm his nerves. The second game was always the hardest. After the excitement of the first, the pressure to perform was even greater. But his teammates seemed to take it in stride. They had been practicing hard, refining their skills, and Izuku could see how much they had all grown.
Todoroki stood off to the side, his expression stoic as always, but Izuku couldn’t ignore the way his eyes flickered toward him whenever their gazes crossed. It was subtle, but there. He’d been noticing it more lately—the way Todoroki watched him from across the field, the way their paths seemed to cross more often than not. It was like the tension between them was growing, but neither of them knew how to address it.
As the game began, Todoroki was on the mound again, cool and composed. His pitches were flawless as always. His ice-cold demeanor and blazing-fast throws made him the perfect pitcher, but today, Izuku couldn’t help but notice how much he was relying on his ice side—more than he usually did.
The game was intense, the teams evenly matched. Izuku could feel the pressure mounting as he stepped up to bat. The opposing pitcher glared at him, sizing him up, but Izuku felt oddly confident. Even though the team was counting on him, and he couldn’t afford to let them down, he was still confident. Years of hero training had molded him to handle pressure expertly, and he used all that experience when confidently facing the pitcher.
As the first pitch came, he swung. The crack of the bat rang out, and the ball sailed high into the air. For a moment, everything seemed to slow down, and Izuku found himself staring at the ball as it sailed over the fence. Home run. The cheers erupted from the dugout as his teammates rushed to meet him at home plate.
But as Izuku rounded the bases, there was only one person he could focus on—Todoroki, his gaze locked on him from the pitcher’s mound. For a split second, their eyes met, and in that moment, the world seemed to stand still. There was something in Todoroki’s eyes, something unspoken, but undeniably clear.
Todoroki had always been a puzzle, but today, Izuku was starting to understand the pieces.
After the game, as the team celebrated their victory, Izuku found himself next to Todoroki. The cold was settling in, the night creeping over them as they packed up. Todoroki glanced at him once more, his lips curving slightly.
“You did well,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You too.” Izuku replied, smiling. “I know it’s hard, but you should use your fire side more. It’s yours, not his.”
Todoroki nodded. “I will, for you.”
Izuku nodded, his chest tight with something he didn’t know how to name. The future was still uncertain, their paths still veiled in ambiguity, but for the first time, Izuku didn’t feel quite so lost. Maybe the answers would come in time.
And maybe, just maybe, Izuku wasn’t the only one who felt the tension.
Five
The final stretch before graduation was suffocating, and the looming uncertainty only added to the pressure. Their third practice was well underway, but everyone’s mind was elsewhere. The applications had been sent out, and now all they could do was wait. In the back of his mind, Izuku kept wondering if he was ready. Everyone else seemed so sure of their path, but he still felt like he was missing something.
At the dugout, Momo was the picture of composure. She glanced over at him and offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t stress, Izuku. We’ve worked hard for this. It’s just a matter of time before we hear back.”
Kyoka nodded in agreement, though she didn’t look quite as relaxed. “Yeah, but I won’t lie, the waiting is killing me. There’s something about it—staring at the mailbox every day just waiting for the results to come in.”
Izuku chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He could tell Kyoka was putting on a brave face. She, like everyone else, was struggling under the weight of their impending graduation. The looming uncertainty about their futures was something everyone was silently trying to push past.
Even Todoroki had seemed distant lately. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes whenever their gazes met, but his attention was mostly focused on the game at hand. His determination had always been his strength, but now, there was something more in the way he held himself—something like quiet resolve mixed with uncertainty.
Practice continued, and the sound of the bat meeting the ball became the soundtrack to Izuku’s thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the last time they would all come together like this. Graduation was just around the corner, and with it, the inevitable departure from U.A. The future was still a blur, but for a moment, on the field, it didn’t feel so uncertain. Here, it was just him, his teammates, and the game. It was a fleeting escape from the weight of the future.
As practice wrapped up, Momo pulled Izuku aside for a moment. “Are you doing okay with everything?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with concern.
Izuku nodded, though it wasn’t a convincing gesture. “Yeah, just thinking about… you know, what comes after.”
Momo smiled kindly. “You’ll be fine. You’re more than ready, Izuku. I believe in you.”
The words were a comfort, but deep down, Izuku wasn’t so sure. Before he could respond, Kyoka was already standing behind Momo, holding up a letter. “Hey, speaking of, guess what came in just now? Our agency results.”
Momo’s eyes widened, and she took the envelope from Kyoka, her fingers trembling slightly as she tore it open. Izuku’s heart raced in his chest, and for a moment, everything felt suspended. The sound of the world faded away as Momo read aloud.
“I got accepted to the Kamui Woods Agency,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.
Izuku couldn’t help but smile, his relief palpable. “That’s amazing, Yaomomo. Congratulations!”
Kyoka clapped her headphone jacks in delight. “Knew you’d get in. But now it’s my turn.” She opened her own envelope, her jacks nervously beating against each other. Finally, Kyoka looked up at them. “Wash Agency, sidekick offer.”, she said, grinning. Even her normally cool, calm, and collected demeanor was breaking out, and her earphone jacks happily spun around.
Momo smiled warmly. “I’m proud of you, Kyoka. You’ve worked so hard for this.”
Kyoka grinned. “They’re both based in Osaka, y’know. We could live together, be roommates. What about you, Izuku?”
Izuku blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I checked earlier, but I haven’t gotten my envelope yet.”
Kyoka crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. “You know what, that’s just a formality. You’re in, I’m sure of it.”
Izuku looked at Todoroki, who had approached the group quietly, his gaze unreadable. “What about you?” Izuku asked him softly, knowing Todoroki hadn’t mentioned anything about his applications yet.
Todoroki’s expression softened just a little. “I’m not worried. We’ll all get where we’re meant to be.”
Izuku nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. For now, they were all in this together. And that was enough.
Six
The day of the championship game had arrived, and it felt surreal. With graduation only weeks away, the weight of it all hung heavy in the air. For the first time in a long while, the final game felt more like a goodbye than just another competition. But no one said anything. The tension was palpable, and the excitement of playing as a team one last time kept them focused.
Izuku’s heart was pounding as they prepared. His excitement for his own graduation had intensified with the news of an offer to join Idaten, but it was a bittersweet feeling. He would get to be a generalist; a mix of all the hero disciplines he was captivated by. Even better, Todoroki would join too, shunning his father’s agency to start a new career as his own hero.
The sound of gloves snapping shut and the rustle of cleats on the turf seemed louder than ever. Every player was silent, each one wrapped in their own thoughts. Todoroki was already moving to the mound, the intensity of his gaze matched by the precision of his movements. Momo, ever the steady leader, was giving quick instructions, her voice cutting through the air. Kyoka stood beside her, drumming her fingers on her bat in an attempt to stay calm.
But Izuku couldn’t help but steal glances at Todoroki, his chest tightening each time their eyes met. There was something in the way Todoroki looked at him now, a shared understanding, something more than just the usual team camaraderie. It felt like their unspoken connection had grown deeper, heavier.
“Ready?” Momo’s voice broke through his thoughts, her hand on his shoulder.
Izuku blinked and gave a quick nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
With the game underway, the tension in the air only grew. Each player seemed to give just a little more than usual, pushing through the pressure and the exhaustion. Todoroki’s pitches were sharp, fiery, and controlled, his determination radiating from him like a forcefield. It was clear he wasn’t just playing for the game anymore. He was playing for something more.
By the fifth inning, the game was tied. Every hit was met with cheers, and every catch was celebrated with shouts of encouragement. But it was nearing the end, and Izuku could feel it in his bones—this was the moment they had all been waiting for. The final inning, the final play. Their last chance to prove themselves. Tied 4-4 against their fated rivals in Class 3-B, bases loaded, last out.
Izuku was up to bat. His grip on the bat was tight, but the world felt oddly calm. It was like everything had led to this point, and no matter what, he knew they would finish together. The infused pitch came fast, and Izuku swung with the power of a Detroit Smash, feeling the satisfying connection as the ball soared through the air. It felt like time slowed down as he ran the bases, the crowd’s cheers fading to a quiet hum in his ears.
Izuku rounded third, his eyes locked on home plate. He was so close. He could hear the thundering footsteps of the opposing players behind him, having scrambled to retrieve the ball and send it home, but his focus was sharp. This was it—the final moment.
With one last burst of speed, Izuku slid into home plate just as the throw came in. There was a brief, tense moment of silence before the umpire raised his hand and called the game. “Safe!”
The field erupted into cheers. Momo was the first to reach him, pulling him into a hug that was almost as overwhelming as the victory itself. “We did it! We won!”
Kyoka was right behind her, grinning from ear to ear. “That was amazing, Midoriya. You nailed it.”
Izuku couldn’t stop smiling, his heart still racing. But as his eyes scanned the field, he found Todoroki standing just behind the others, his expression unreadable but softer than usual. There was something about the way Todoroki looked at him—something that made Izuku’s chest tighten with unspoken feelings.
Before he could overthink it, Todoroki stepped forward, his hand briefly brushing Izuku’s shoulder. “Good job,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, but with an underlying warmth that made Izuku’s heart skip a beat.
Izuku met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away. “Thanks, Todoroki. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Todoroki nodded, his lips curling into the slightest of smiles. “It’s just... nice to know we did it together.”
The words lingered in the air between them, thick with meaning, and Izuku’s breath hitched slightly. He wanted to say more, but the moment was interrupted as Momo and Kyoka pulled him into a tight group hug.
“You were awesome out there.” Kyoka said, playfully shoving the newfound star.
Izuku smiled widely, feeling the joy of victory spread through him. But in the back of his mind, there was still that quiet, undeniable pull between him and Todoroki. It wasn’t a finished thought, but there was something there, something that had grown over the past few months.
As the celebration continued, Izuku’s eyes flickered back to Momo and Kyoka. They were standing side by side, their hands almost touching, their smiles soft as they exchanged a glance. The air between them was charged, but it wasn’t the same tension as before—it was something else now. Something more solid, more certain.
Momo caught Izuku’s eye and gave him a small, knowing smile. “I’m happy for you, Izuku,” she said softly, the words carrying an understanding that stretched deeper than their friendship. “You’ve got this.”
Kyoka, noticing Momo’s gaze, grinned and nudged her gently. “And you’ve got this too, you know?”
Momo’s cheeks flushed, and she gave a soft laugh. “I know.”
Izuku couldn’t help but smile at the exchange. It was subtle, but the way they looked at each other made it clear that their feelings had shifted too. It was like the weight of everything that had been left unsaid was finally lifting. They had all made it through this year together, and the future didn’t seem as uncertain anymore.
As the night wore on, the team gathered together, taking group photos and reliving moments of the game. Todoroki and Izuku found themselves standing near the back, the unresolved tension between them still being as thick as a pat of butter, but there was an understanding now, an unspoken promise that they would face whatever came next side by side.
And then, out of nowhere, Kyoka and Momo—who had been standing quietly off to the side—stepped forward, their hands brushing together. The action was small, but it spoke volumes. Momo looked up at Kyoka, her eyes shining with something soft and sincere.
“Hey,” Kyoka said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad we made it this far, together.”
Momo’s smile was slow but genuine, her heart in her eyes. “Me too,” she whispered back, leaning in to kiss Kyoka’s lips n a quiet, tender gesture. Kyoka’s eyes widened for a brief moment, but then she smiled, leaning in to rest her forehead against Momo’s shoulders.
The moment was brief, but it was enough. The tension between them, the unsaid words—they had finally found their way through. Izuku was sure an Osaka apartment and happy relationship would soon find them.
Izuku watched the scene unfold before him, his heart full. He looked back at Todoroki, who was standing quietly, watching the same scene. Todoroki met his gaze and, for the first time in a long while, his smile reached his eyes. There was something there, something between them that felt right. Slowly, Todoroki walked over to him, took his hand, and softly kissed him.
Izuku broke the silence. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
“Me too.” Todoroki replied. “We’re going to have to start apartment hunting in Tokyo, if you want.”
“Of course.” Izuku replied, grinning.
As the night stretched on, the team lingered in the glow of their victory, the sound of their laughter filling the air. The future was still uncertain, but for now, they had each other, and that was enough.