Rise of the Golden Phoenix | BNHA Fanfiction

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3rd Person PoV

Mikhail increased his body temperature.

It felt like he was in a battle against himself rather than Blizzard. It didn't matter that he wasn't actually engaging in physical combat, but he felt like he was fighting the cold off. The hotter he got, the colder Blizzard got. It seemed that everything he did to adjust his power led to Blizzard adjusting his to match. They weren't the same, yet they felt the same.

"I've got to stay hot, or I'll not be able to fight at all," he muttered to himself as he pushed his quirk as much as he could without removing his mental block.

"Wow, how hot are you going to make this room?" Blizzard pulled at his collar and let out a small huff, "it's like a freaking sauna in here."

"No. I feel like I'm stood in the middle of a snowstorm with just shorts on," Mikhail glared at the floor as a cloud of white came from his mouth. It was the first time in a long time since he'd felt the cold. He had once before thought he'd enjoy feeling the cold again but right at this moment, he was the complete opposite, hating every second of the shivers he fought from rolling through his body.

"Well then, let's turn that storm into an avalanche," Blizzard exclaimed before throwing his arms out. Waves of white air flowed from his palms before he clapped his hands together, the sound reverberated off the walls. Nothing happened. But then suddenly an overwhelming blast of freezing air shot forward.

Mikhail instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arms up like he was getting ready to block a punch as the blast hit him.

A few seconds passed and the cold disappeared again. Mikhail dropped his arms down again and opened his eyes just to see the whole room, the walls, floor, and ceiling, were covered in a thick layer of ice.

"Whoa—slippy," the white hair boy threw his arms out to add extra effect to his balance. His feet slipped out slightly and he glared at the ground, hoping it'd disappear if he just did so.

Then he remembered what kind of quirk he had and pushed a blast of heat down at his feet. The ice melted quickly and soon enough he was on solid ground again.

"OK but was that really necessary?" Mikhail asked, looking up to Blizzard as he focused his flames to his shoulder, creating an arm out of flames.

"Well yes since you obviously can't walk on the floor now since you melted the floor," Blizzard pointed out, "What're you going to do? Steam the place out? You do that and you could cause pipes in the walls and ceiling to burst. Then comes explosions and fires. It's not really a very hero like thing to do is it?"

Mikhail shot him an unamused look before his whole body was surrounded in a golden blaze.

"Shut up," he glared, the temperature in the room was battling itself. Flashing freezing cold before melting to an extreme heat.

Blizzard raised his hand, ice started to hover above his head, forming into long, sharp splinters of ice. Throwing his hand forward, he sent the ice barrelling forwards towards Mikhail, the now white-haired male jumped back once, dodging one of the ice splinters before sending a wave of fire up to another, he watched as it melted only slightly and then dropped to the ground. Shattering.

Raising a brow, Mikhail stared at the splinter before focusing on the other ones, dodging them occasionally and sending blasts of fire at others. Each time, the only way that the ice weapons were destroyed, was when they shattered against the half ice, half concrete surface beneath his feet, baffling the hero in training.

"What is up with this ice?" he muttered before running into the tunnel and beginning his move up to the club, "I have no idea what's going on anymore."

The crackling of ice slowly creeping up the tunnels surfaces behind him caught his attention. Mikhail skidded to a halt and watched as fingers of ice crackled at the far end of the tunnel, the sounds of footsteps echoed along with the crackling.