Unbearable

Second Place

When Shouto awoke in the temporary nurse's office, he was sure he was going to open his eyes and find himself on the floor of his father's training room, and he braced himself for a stern reprimand for whatever it was he had done that had made him pass out. He was startled when it was not Endeavor's voice he heard, but Recovery Girl.

"Ah, good, glad to see you're awake, you wouldn't want to miss the award ceremony!" the elderly healer hero said cheerfully. "Well done, second place!"

Shouto blinked and looked around, relieved that no one else was in the room. "How long was I out?" he asked. Judging from the muffled sounds of the crowd, the stadium was still full, so he didn't think it had been long; but he felt unusually disoriented.

"About ten minutes," said Recovery Girl. "They're still cleaning up the ring now."

Shouto sat up and nodded, then shivered. In spite of having used his fire briefly, he felt like his body temperature had been significantly lowered. True, he'd melted the ice and brought forth a tremendous flame in the match against Midoriya, but then only momentarily lit the flames against Bakugou. After several rounds of battle, plus the earlier challenges, he'd used a great deal of ice, and for a much greater duration than the fire. Hoping to correct this, he held his left hand up in front of his chest and lit just enough fire to the feel the warmth. Almost as soon as he did this, though, his stomach lurched and he put out the fire and clamped his right hand over his mouth. Recovery Girl handed him a basin, but he shook his head and waved it away.

"I'm okay. Just got a little nauseous for a minute."

"That's not uncommon after being knocked out, especially if you have a head injury," Recovery Girl reminded him. "I don't think you do, but I'll double check."

She examined him, and Shouto found himself cringing at being touched. The last couple hours had been emotionally and physically exhausting, and he was yearning for some quiet and solitude.

"No, no head injury," she confirmed, "but certainly some whiplash." She put her quirk to use, melting away neck tension and a headache Shouto hadn't been aware of until it was suddenly gone.

"Arigato," he said. "That feels much better."

"You still feel like a little icicle, though," said Recovery Girl with pursed lips.

"So desu."

Recovery Girl wrapped a heavy blanket around his shoulders, and Shouto closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for it to reflect his body heat. There didn't seem to be very much of it. He tried again to light a little fire, but again he immediately felt sick and stopped short. What the—?

It must have shown, because Recovery Girl shoved the basin into his hands. "You hold onto that, young man," she said. "I don't care if you want to be all macho, I'm not cleaning it up off the floor!"

Shouto's mind was racing. Was it because of the fire? After once, he'd assumed it was a coincidence, and he probably was just nauseous from being knocked unconscious, but twice in a row...

One of the festival logistical staff was at the door for Recovery Girl, and while she was talking to him, Shouto set down the basin, shrugged off the blanket, and pushed his left sleeve, impatient to test his theory. He breathed deeply and lit the fire, this time letting it creep up his arm instead of staying in his hand. Sure enough, it made him want to throw up. He stopped before letting it get that far, then braced his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths. What the hell? he wondered. He had vague memories of vomiting from heat stroke once years ago when his father had scolded him for his imbalanced skills and put him through a grueling series of drills to hone the fire side, but this was nothing like that. He was too cold, not too hot.