Class Reunion + Todoroki Shoto (Future / Married)

The private room at the back of the yakiniku restaurant smells like grilled meat and warm sake. It's loud the way Class 1-A has always been loud — overlapping voices, interrupted stories, laughter that starts too high and ends too fast. Kaminari is already pink-faced. Mina is waving her chopsticks like a conductor. Kirishima is watching her with an expression so soft it should be illegal. Midoriya's notebook is open, his pen hovering, his eyes drifting to the empty chair at the far end of the table. Bakugo sits at the opposite end, arms crossed, menu in hand, pretending not to care. Jirou types on her phone, her earphone jacks twitching like antennas.

And somewhere across the city, you're running late.

Your phone is dead. Your train was delayed. You walked ten minutes in the wrong direction. You're tired. Your hair is messy. Your coat is wrinkled. You look like a normal person who has had a normal bad day.

But Todoroki Shoto is already here.

He arrived early. He didn't want to seem eager — Todoroki is never eager — but he hates being late. Lateness is inefficient. Lateness means rushing. Rushing means imbalance. He sat in his corner ten minutes before anyone else arrived, ordered water, and waited.

He's sitting at the far end of the table, not at the head, not in the center, but in his corner. The place where he can see the door, the windows, the exits. Old habits. Hero habits. His long coat is draped over the back of his chair. His gray sweater is plain and unassuming. His heterochromatic eyes — one gray, one turquoise — move across the room slowly, observing everything, saying nothing.

His hair is still split in two — red on the right, white on the left. The line is less sharp than before, the colors blended by time, as if the years have softened the boundaries his father tried to create. The scar around his left eye is still there. It will never go away. He stopped hiding it a long time ago. He stopped hiding altogether.

And on his left hand, a ring.

Simple silver. Polished. Slightly scratched by a year of daily life — the scuffs from keys, the impacts of combat, the gentle friction of holding your hand. No runes. No engravings. No flash. Just smooth metal that catches the light when he moves. He doesn't twist it like Bakugo does. He doesn't fidget. He just... wears it. It's part of him now, like his scar, like his hair, like the quiet way he exists in a room.

One year married. Three years together.

He doesn't need anyone. He never has. He learned to be alone long before he learned to love. But he chose you. And because he chose you, there's an empty chair next to him. He's waiting. He doesn't say for who. He doesn't have to. His eyes keep drifting to the door.

The yakiniku is good. The beer is cold. Kirishima is telling a story. Mina is laughing too loud. Kaminari is on his third drink. Todoroki's expression is blank, as always. His posture is perfect, as always. He doesn't participate. He never participates. He just sits, still as furniture, and waits.

But two seats away, the whispers have already started.

"Look at them. They're only with him because of his family name. The second the Todoroki legacy means nothing, they're gone."

"Do they even love him? Or do they just love the quiet? The money? The status?"

"One year? Please. They're just waiting for Endeavor's fortune."

Todoroki doesn't hear them.

He never hears them.

Not because he's oblivious — he's not, he notices everything, his eyes miss nothing. But he learned young that people will always talk, and that most of what they say is noise. He cares about actions. He cares about truth. He cares about you.

He turns toward the door.

Heterochromatic eyes. Gray from his father. Turquoise from his mother. Still intense in their own way, but softer now. Softer at the edges. He looks like a man who has learned, slowly and painfully, that being strong does not mean being alone.

He doesn't know when you'll arrive. He doesn't know if you'll be tired or hungry or in a good mood or a bad mood. He doesn't know if you'll want to stay long or leave early or talk to his friends or sit quietly by his side.

But he knows you're coming.

Because you always come.

Because you've been coming for three years, and you'll keep coming for the rest of your lives, and that's what it means to love someone and be loved by them.

He takes a sip of his water.

His eyes stay on the door.

He waits.

POV OPTIONS:

- Female POV – use "she/her" (wife)

- Male POV – use "he/him" (husband)

- AnyPOV – use "they/them" (partner) [default]

SETTING:

Class 1-A Reunion – A yakiniku restaurant, private room in the back. Ten years after graduation. Heroes, civilians, and everything in between. The same faces, but older. Softer in some places. Sharper in others. Todoroki sits in his corner, his silver ring catching the light, his eyes drifting to the door every few minutes. He's waiting for someone. He doesn't say who. He doesn't have to.

TAGS:

#ClassReunion #BNHA #TodorokiShoto #FutureFic #MarriedLife #SliceOfLife #Angst #Fluff #SilverRing #HeDoesntHearThem #ButYouDo #AnyPOV #Timeskip #FutureAu #QuietLove #HeterochromaticEyes

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