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If asked how well he knows Todoroki Shouto, Tenya would honestly say that he does not know him very well. The other boy used to be a complete enigma to him, but that was before they fought beside each other against Stain. They’d shed blood side by side that night, but even with that connection, Tenya doesn’t talk much to Todoroki, nor does Todoroki talk much to him. They share an easy, quiet camaraderie, the kind where they can always trust the other to have their back without saying a word about it.
That doesn’t mean he knows nothing though. At least this much Tenya does know; he and Todoroki have many similarities. They’re similar in how they both chase a legacy, trying to live up to the shadow cast over them—for better or worse. They’re similar in their self discipline, they’re similar in how focused they can be.
They’re also similar in one very specific way that stands out from the rest. All those other similarities are the easy, obvious ones. Things that anyone could guess at. But Tenya finds himself being defined by this specific trait more and more each day. He wonders sometimes if Todoroki feels the same.
Wonders how consumed Todoroki feels by his admiration for Midoriya Izuku, if he feels as overwhelmed as Tenya does.
And he certainly feels overwhelmed right now, as his admiration and awe are shoved aside for horror while he watches Midoriya Izuku hold a building on his back.
Green lightning flashes around them, lighting up the small space they're trapped in. It's incredible and sickening all at once. But the flashes allow Tenya enough light that he can take a look around and take stock of the situation.
That's when he sees Todoroki, who is lying unconscious with blood trailing sluggishly from a head wound at his temple. The red dyes the white strands of his hair until they match the red of his other half, but the blood keeps coming, and soon the strands are too dark, too thick. Midoriya’s eyes are fixed there, watching the color deepen.
Pain screams out from Tenya's legs when he tries to move, but he bites his tongue and pushes it down. He puts himself bodily between Todoroki and Midoriya as much as he can, then takes Midoriya's sweat and dirt smeared face into his hands. Clouded green eyes take a moment to refocus.
“He'll be okay,” Tenya says, voice rattling up his throat. He swallows ash and debris. “We'll all be okay.”
Midoriya gasps for air like he's drowning. Tenya is sure that he isn't hearing anything.
The building groans above them, concrete and rubble settling down harder onto Midoriya’s back. As dust rains around them Midoriya bites his lip so hard it bleeds, and Tenya wipes away the line of blood with a thumb.
“... Y-you?” Midoriya gasps.
“I’m fine,” Tenya says, ignoring the way his legs throb. His skin feels taut and bruised—he thinks the fall pushed the exhausts of his engines deeper into him. Metal scrapes bone under muscle and flesh.
“T-todo–” Midoriya tries to say next, but the slab of concrete that he holds flat against his back shifts dangerously, and he goes silent with a whine that Tenya feels like he wasn’t supposed to hear.
Midoriya has always been a guiding light. A beacon and force of nature all at once. Now though, he’s trapped. Held down by the weight above him. Tenya has to step in and find a way out of this—he has to point their way to the exit.
He looks around them again, and this time, between one flash of lightning and the next, notices something he hadn’t the first time. They aren’t in a completely enclosed space; there’s a gap between slabs of concrete that’s letting light in.
It’s across the space from where Midoriya is holding their ceiling up, so if he wants to see how far the opening goes Tenya can either crawl over… or he can get up into a crouch and walk there. As if in response to his thoughts a jolt of pain shoots through his right calf, and Tenya winces, hand snapping out to grab at his upper thigh reflexively.
Midoriya’s eyes are on him now, foggy and concerned and upset.
So Tenya shoves the pain down again, as deep down as he can. He gives Midoriya a smile the same way the other boy has done for him so many times, and then he forces himself to stand.
His legs feel like they’ve caught fire, so sudden and intense is the pain. Tenya groans despite himself, and Midoriya’s breathing quickens with panic. But Tenya doesn’t drop his smile. He smiles as he staggers over to the wall where the gap is, smiles as he checks Todoroki’s head and sits the other boy up against an overturned support beam, smiles as he returns to Midoriya’s side.
“The gap over there opens to the outside,” he says. “If you push the building up higher for just a moment, I can grab both you and Todoroki and run us out before it falls.”
Midoriya shakes his head, drops of sweat and blood fly off. “No, n-no.”
“It’s the only way we’ll get out of here,” Tenya says.
“You go,” Midoriya insists, voice breaking. “G-get help.”
“You can’t hold this up forever,” Tenya says. He can’t help himself, and takes Midoriya’s face in his hands again. “And I can’t leave you and Todoroki behind. You can’t ask me to do that Midoriya.”
Pools of tears well up in Midoriya’s eyes. They spill out over his cheeks, and Tenya can’t help but smile. “We’re going to get out of here. Trust me with this, Midoriya.”
Tenya sees the moment where Midoriya decides to go with Tenya’s plan, when his resolve crystalizes into action. A spark, fiery and hot, is birthed in the depths of his eyes. The lighting flashing around them grows brighter, and brighter, and with a groan Midoriya braces against the building weighing down on him and he pushes.
And Tenya, even though his legs are screaming, even though he feels as if he can’t breathe for how suddenly and intensely his admiration for Midoriya chokes him, does what he said he would do. He grabs Todoroki in one arm, hooks the other around Midoriya’s waist. Then he fixes his gaze on that widening opening of light, and he runs.