MHA Holdiay series

The air in the hero training dojo crackled with anticipation. Shoto Todoroki, ever stoic, stood opposite Hitoshi Shinso, his heterochromatic eyes narrowed in concentration. This week's assignment was simple: sparring. Partnered together, they were expected to utilize their quirks and strategize. Simple for most, perhaps, but for Shoto and Shinso, the air hung thick with unspoken tension.

They were both undeniably good. Shoto's control over fire and ice was precise, while Shinso's Brainwashing quirk was a formidable tool, even if he preferred to rely on his newly honed physical skills and Capture Weapon. It was during one of their earlier spars that the unexpected had occurred.

Shinso, utilizing his scarf with practiced ease, had managed to ensnare Shoto, binding his arms to his sides. The capture was clean, efficient, and utterly mortifying. Shoto felt a jolt, an unfamiliar heat blooming in his lower abdomen. His face flushed, not from exertion, but from something far more disconcerting. He was… aroused.

Shinso, quick to release him, saw the subtle shift in Shoto's posture, the heightened color in his cheeks. He didn't comment, didn't acknowledge the obvious, just silently untied the scarf and stepped back, a faint blush creeping up his own neck.

The silence that followed was deafening. They avoided each other, their interactions reduced to curt nods and mumbled confirmations. Their sparring sessions became stilted, lacking the spark of competition they once held. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Their professor, Snipe, a man known for his sharp eyes and even sharper shooting skills, hadn't missed a thing. He called them both in after class one Friday.

"Todoroki, Shinso," Snipe's voice was gruff, his gaze unwavering. "You two are clearly avoiding something. Your performance is suffering. You'll stay after detention until you figure out what's going on between you."

The words hung in the air. Shoto's face burned. Shinso swallowed hard, the tips of his ears turning pink. The large dojo felt even more empty, the silence amplifying the awkwardness.

Hours crawled by. They sat on opposite sides of the room, pretending to focus on their textbooks, but the words blurred before their eyes. Finally, Shinso broke the silence.

"That... the training," he began, his voice hesitant. "When I had you tied up... were you... okay?"

Shoto's head snapped up. "I..." He struggled for the right words. "I don't know. It was... weird."

"Weird how?" Shinso pressed, his violet eyes searching Shoto's face.

"The ropes," Shoto mumbled, unable to meet Shinso's gaze. "Against my skin... it felt... good. I don't understand."

Shinso's breath hitched. "Good?"

Shoto nodded, shame warring with a strange, burgeoning curiosity.

A longer silence descended, broken only by the distant hum of the university campus. Then, Shinso asked the question that had been haunting them both.

"Do you... do you like me, Todoroki?"

Shoto's heart pounded in his chest. Like him? He respected Shinso, admired his tenacity, his quiet strength. But… like him? He truly didn't know. He opened his mouth to answer, to admit his confusion, but Shinso didn't let him. He closed the distance between them, his hand gently cupping Shoto's cheek.

Then, he kissed him.

It was tentative at first, a soft brush of lips against lips. Shoto stiffened, surprised, but the gentleness of the touch, the warmth radiating from Shinso, was strangely comforting. He didn't pull away.

Shinso deepened the kiss, and something within Shoto unlocked. He tilted his head, responding, his own hand rising to grasp Shinso's shoulder. The confusion, the awkwardness, the unexamined feelings – they all seemed to melt away in the heat of the moment.

There were no thoughts, only sensation. The soft pressure of Shinso's lips, the faint scent of his lavender cologne, the feel of his hand against his skin. He kissed back with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed, his body humming with a newfound awareness.

Finally, they broke apart, breathless and flushed. Shoto stared at Shinso, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and wonder. Shinso returned the gaze, a hopeful, uncertain smile playing on his lips.

Maybe this was a start, a messy, unexpected, and undeniably confusing start. But for Shoto and Shinso, standing in the empty dojo under the watchful gaze of their professor's portrait, it was a start, nonetheless. A new beginning, built on a foundation of tangled ropes, unspoken feelings, and a kiss that held the promise of something more.