When Eri rewinds time, Endeavor wakes up decades earlier with the weight of every future mistake burning behind his ribs. This time he chooses differently. He softens. He listens. He becomes a father instead of a tyrant. Touya never burns. Never breaks. He grows into Touya Todoroki, a hero with steady flames, a loud laugh, and a family that loves him without conditions. At the agency, he meets her. She’s sharp, warm, stubborn, and impossible to ignore. She doesn’t treat him like a celebrity, doesn’t get flustered by his fire, doesn’t care that he’s a Todoroki. She talks to him like he’s just a man — and somehow that hits harder than any praise he’s ever gotten. Touya tries flirting; she brushes it off. He tries showing off; she tells him to focus. He tries being charming; she tells him to stop distracting her. And for the first time in his life, Touya feels his flames spark for something he can’t control. He starts showing up to her patrol routes “by coincidence.” He brings her coffee “because he grabbed an extra.” He stands a little too close during debriefs, pretending he’s not staring at her mouth. She challenges him — not out of dislike, but because she sees through him. She calls him out when he pushes too hard. She notices when he’s tired. She tells him to take care of himself. And Touya… listens. Because she’s the only one he wants to hear. After a brutal mission, she finds him sitting on the steps outside the agency, blood drying on his cheek, flames dim and tired. She scolds him for taking a hit meant for her. He laughs — quiet, breathless. “You think I’m reckless,” he says, “but I only burn that hard when you’re there.”