Chapter 33: A warm heart in icy body.
The roar was gone.
The U.A. stadium, which had just been a cauldron of screaming passion, was now surrendering to the mundane sounds of closure.
Clack. Clack. Shuffle.
Thousands of footsteps echoed as the spectators filed out toward the exits. The squeak of plastic seats folding up rippled through the stands like dominoes falling. Somewhere in the distance, a janitorial crew was already sweeping up confetti and discarded popcorn. The grand festival was over, leaving behind only the echoing silence of a party that had ended too abruptly.
Boys' Locker Room.
Inside the concrete walls, the air was thick with the smell of sweat, cooling spray, and exhaustion. But in one corner, the energy was pitifully high.
"Check me out, Sero! Get the lighting right!"
Mineta Minoru stood on a bench, chest puffed out, hands on his hips. Around his neck hung the heavy gold medal.
"Dude..." Sero sighed, holding up his smartphone with a deadpan expression. "I've taken fifty pictures already. My thumb is cramping."
"Just one more! From a low angle!" Mineta pleaded, flexing his nonexistent biceps. "This is it! When the girls see this on my profile, they'll think I was the secret champion! They will fall in love!"
"They watched the broadcast, Mineta," Sero said, scrolling through the gallery of desperate poses. "They saw you losing against a girl in the first round. A stolen medal isn't going to fix that."
"DON'T REMIND ME!" Mineta wailed, tears streaming down his face as he clutched the gold disc. "Let me live in the fantasy!"
Bakugo's locker was already open and empty; he had stormed out the moment he changed.
Near the door, Todoroki paused. He had his bag in hand. He looked back at Aokiji, his heterochromatic eyes lingering for a moment. There was no animosity in his gaze anymore, only a silent, grim recognition. He didn't say a word. He just turned and walked out, disappearing into the hallway.
Click.
Kuzan Aokiji closed his locker door gently. He had already changed out of his UA sport uniform. He wore a loose grey hoodie and baggy pants, looking ready for a nap rather than a victory lap. He stared at the metal vents of the locker, his eyes unfocused, lost in a fog of thought.
"A heavy burden for a light heart, isn't it?"
Aokiji blinked and looked to his side. Tokoyami was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Dark Shadow hovering silently over his shoulder.
"Tokoyami," Aokiji muttered. "You're poetic today."
"Your father.." Tokoyami said with a calm tone. "He has a formidable presence. It suffocates the air."
"Yeah! But don't let it get to you, man!" Kirishima jumped in, slapping Aokiji on the back. "You're the champ! You froze the whole stadium! That was manly as hell! Who cares what the old suit thinks?"
Aokiji didn't smile. He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "Thanks, Kirishima. But I'm just tired. I want to go home."
Aokiji began to walk toward the exit. Tokoyami and Kirishima exchanged looks.
"Hey! Wait!" Mineta scrambled down from the bench, holding the gold medal out. "You forgot your prize! You can't just leave the gold!"
Aokiji didn't stop. He didn't even turn around. He just waved a hand lazily over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
Midoriya was sitting on a bench near the entrance, looking down at his own hand—the fingers still wrapped heavily in bandages from his fight with Aokiji.
He remembered the cafeteria. He remembered yelling at Aokiji.
Midoriya clenched his hand into a fist. I was wrong, he thought, guilt gnawing at his chest. I judged him because he looked lazy. I thought he was just naturally gifted and bored. But I don't know anything about him..
Aokiji walked with his hands in his hoodie pockets, his posture slouched.
Near the door of the room at the corridor, the girls of Class 1-A. Now they were wearing their normal home clothes, were coming to the room of boys. Yaoyorozu led the group, her face lighting up with a polite, congratulatory smile.
"Kuzan-kun. We were just coming to find everyone," Yaoyorozu began, beaming. "Congratulations on the victo—"
She froze.
Aokiji walked right past her. He didn't stop to chat. He didn't make a joke. He didn't ask about her skates.
"Oss," he grunted—a barely audible, generic acknowledgment used in dojos, devoid of any warmth.
As he passed, Yaoyorozu looked into his eyes. Usually, they were sleepy, half-lidded, perhaps a bit mischievous. But now? They were hollow. It was the look of someone who had just clocked out of a job they hated.
The smile died on her lips. She turned, watching him turn the corner and vanish toward the exit.
"Yaomomo.." Uraraka put her hand on Yaoyorozu's shoulder, noticing her friend's frozen state. "I don't think he can talk right now.. At least not to us.."
"His eyes..." Yaoyorozu whispered. "He looked... so far away."
The girls walked to the boys' locker room. The door was propped open.
They didn't find a celebration. They found silence.
The boys were standing around or sitting on benches, the mood heavy. Mineta was holding the gold medal, looking confused. Kaminari was leaning against a locker, not making his usual jokes.
"Did... did Aokiji just leave? Without saying anything?" Ashido asked, stepping into the doorway. "We passed him in the hall. He totally ignored us."
"Yeah," Sero muttered. "He just left."
"I can't believe that guy," Kirishima suddenly snapped.
All eyes turned to the redhead. Kirishima slammed his fist against the metal locker, creating a loud BANG.
"That 'father' of his," Kirishima growled, his voice trembling with frustration. "Did you hear him? 'My son is a bridge.' 'We are expanding into the hero market.' Who talks about their kid like that on national television?"
"It was... chilling," Ojiro agreed, rubbing his arm. "He didn't call him by his name. Just 'Champion' or 'Son' in that possessive way. It felt like a business transaction."
"Even his eyes," Ashido said softly, crossing her arms as if she were cold. "The dad's eyes. They were scary. They didn't have any love in them at all. No wonder Aokiji acts the way he does. Imagine going home to that."
"It makes sense now," Kaminari sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Why he always says being a hero is a drag. If that guy is pushing him to do it... I'd hate it too."
Jiro twirled one of her earphone jacks around her finger, looking at the floor. "We were all jealous of his power. But I don't think any of us would want to trade places with him right now."
The room fell silent again. The gold medal in Mineta's hand seemed to shine a little less brightly.
Mineta looked at the heavy object. "So, what do I do with this?"
Midoriya stood up. The scraping of his shoes broke the silence.
He walked over to Mineta and held out his hand. His face was determined.
"Give it to me, Mineta-kun."
"Midoriya?"
"I'll take it to him," Midoriya said firmly, grasping the cold metal of the medal. "I said some things to him earlier that were wrong. I need to apologize. And... I need to make sure he gets this."
He looked down at the medal, seeing his own reflection in the gold.
"He earned this. Even if he doesn't want it right now."
Aokiji approached the gate, the boundary between the roar of the arena and the outside world. As he stepped through the exit, the orange rays of the setting sun bathed his face, a fleeting warmth against his skin.
Beep. Beep.
The soft, polite sound of a car horn cut through the ambient noise. A sleek, pitch-black executive car waited by the curb.
Standing beside it was Sayuri. The moment she saw him, her face lit up, and she began to walk toward him with a bounce in her step.
Aokiji walked to meet her, his pace calm and steady, but his mind was miles away, dissecting the nature of his existence.
Some might look at my father's treatment of me and see a lack of warmth, a complete absence of paternal affection, he thought. But in reality, I am a descendant of the Kuzan Clan.
I don't think this has ever been explained to anyone correctly—it's a truth I deduced on my own over the years spent in this clan. The reality is that the Kuzan Quirk causes emotional frigidity. To them, when they speak of a son or a lover with such cold detachment, they genuinely do not believe they are doing anything wrong. They know nothing of hurt feelings, or perhaps, nothing of feelings at all. It isn't just their ability that is ice; it is their very nature. Perhaps this absolute detachment is why the family business has thrived for centuries.
Sayuri reached him, beaming. "You were amazing, big brother! You put in so much effort... you really made my heart race!"
Aokiji looked down at his sister's face—the row of white teeth in her innocent smile, her pale skin, and her crystalline eyes.
'The reason behind my sister's kindness and the warmth of her heart is that, fundamentally, she is Quirkless,' he realized, not for the first time. 'She is my only anchor in this family. She grieves for my sadness and rejoices in my joy. Those bright, icy eyes of hers are the only things that breathe hope into my spirit, allowing me to endure that house. Without this innocent little girl, who is only a year younger than me, I wouldn't have spent another day under that roof.'
He looked at her and said, "Did you like the show? In that case, you owe me a date. You're treating me to a hot drink."
She giggled, nodding vigorously. "Yes, yes! It will be on me."
As they walked together toward the car, Aokiji's thoughts drifted inward again.
The other mutation in this family... is me. My emotions didn't turn to cold ice. My heart remains warm, just like Sayuri's, which is why we understand each other so well.
He added a silent addendum to his thoughts: The only thing that turns to ice in me is my body itself, not my soul, that's why I'm able to turn my body into ice. Despite being born into this frozen lineage, I am still a human with a beating, warm heart.
They entered the vehicle. It was a long, spacious sedan. Aokiji and Sayuri took the middle seats, facing forward, while their parents sat in the rear row behind them.
"You're late," his father, Sojiro, said flatly. He didn't wait for an excuse. He simply tapped the partition. "Move."
Aokiji's mother sat beside his father. She was dressed with immaculate modesty—elegant, but covering, nothing flashy or revealing. Her black hair was smooth and straight, framing a face defined by sharp, dark eyes. She said nothing to Aokiji. She didn't even look up. She was reviewing a digital work schedule, her fingers scrolling efficiently as her husband asked her for data regarding a specific acquisition.
This is the usual dialogue between them, Aokiji thought, listening to the drone of their voices. Projects. The future. Work. Such and such.
He glanced sideways at his sister. Sayuri was looking out the window, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the students and the crowd dispersing in the twilight.
If I... had acquired those cold emotions as well... Aokiji wondered, a chill running through him that had nothing to do with his Quirk. What would have become of Sayuri in this family? She would have been completely alone.
The drive continued in silence until the imposing gates of the Kuzan estate loomed ahead.
Upon entering the house, the transition was seamless—from the cold car to the cold marble of the foyer.
"Take a rest day, Kuzan," his father said, checking his watch. "Tomorrow the offers will come in. We will analyze which offer is the most suitable for you to choose." He turned to his wife. "We must take this seriously. We will select the best of the best."
Aokiji nodded silently. As the parents drifted toward the living room, Aokiji and Sayuri headed up the stairs toward their rooms, which were located near each other.
"By the way, by the way!" Sayuri chirped, breaking the silence of the hallway. "We are going to visit Grandpa and Grandma at the end of the week."
Aokiji paused, his hand on his doorknob. "That's sudden. Did Father decide that?"
"Yes! It has to be before your field training starts."
Aokiji sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. "Hokkaido is so far away... how annoying." He looked at her with sudden sharpness. "Will you be okay? The weather there is brutal."
"I'll be fine, I'll be fine," she dismissed lightly.
"Last time, you got sick because of the extreme cold," Aokiji reminded her, his voice low and serious. "Do you remember? You aren't like the rest of the family. To us, the cold is nothing. But you... you are a normal human."
Sayuri softened, seeing his concern. "This time I'll wear two sweaters, okay? Don't worry about me."
She opened the door to her room. A blast of warm, climate-controlled air escaped into the hallway. "This is the best corner for me in the house," she smiled. "Goodbye, brother. I'll see you at dinner."
Aokiji watched her door close. He smiled faintly, a genuine expression that didn't reach his father's eyes. He opened the door to his own room and walked.
"I really am lucky," he whispered to the silence, "that she is a member of this family."
.
.
.