….
On the sidelines, the chatter of the rest of Class 1-A died instantly. The silence was heavy, thick with the collective realization that they had just seen the impossible.
Kirishima was the first to find his voice, though it sounded faint, even to him.
"Midoriya... man... was that a second Quirk?"
"DEKU!" Uraraka was the second to break the perimeter, rushing forward with her eyes wide enough to swallow her face. "What was that?! Since when can you do... that?!"
Midoriya laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as the entire class began to converge around him.
"Ah... I have been working on it with Dabi-sensei after regular hours." he admitted, his cheeks flushing. "It's a new technique I finally figured out how to stabilize. I wanted to show you all before the practicals as I didn't want it to come out in the middle of a test and throw everyone off."
"Man, Midoriya!" Kirishima cheered, slamming his hardened fists together with a sharp clack. "Secret training to evolve your style? That's the height of dedication!"
"It wasn't really a secret." Midoriya protested weakly. "More like... extra practice? I had to make sure I wasn't a danger to everyone else before I brought it onto the field."
"True." Tokoyami rumbled, Dark Shadow manifesting from his shoulder to nod in grim approval. "Uncontrolled power is a double-edged sword that cuts both friend and foe."
Asui tilted her head, finger on chin. "Ribbit. So this is like an advanced technique? Similar to how Todoroki-chan learned to use both sides of his quirk together?"
"Exactly like that!" Midoriya jumped on the comparison, immensely relieved to have a benchmark that didn't involve explaining vestiges or stockpiled quirks.
From the observation deck, a familiar, raspy voice cut through the excitement, sharp enough to draw blood.
"Tch. About time you stopped acting like a damn amateur."
The class went quiet as Bakugo leaned over the railing, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression a mask of bored indifference.
"Kacchan?" Midoriya blinked, looking up.
"Yesterday you were flailing around like an idiot." Bakugo continued bluntly. "Today you actually looked like you had a brain in your skull. It's about time."
"Wait, you knew about this?" Kaminari shouted, pointing between the two. "How come you didn't say anything to the rest of us?!"
"Why would I?" Bakugo's tone made it clear he found the question offensive. "It's not my business what training Deku does on his own time. As long as he isn't half-assing the work, I don't care."
It was pure, undiluted Bakugo-speak for: I noticed and approved but would rather die than say so directly.
"Midoriya." Todoroki stepped forward. "You've been hiding this? You must have been holding back during the Sports Festival."
"No! No, I swear!" Midoriya waved his hands frantically. "I only discovered I could do this a few days ago. It was... a total accident at first."
"Oh. My apologies for the assumption." Todoroki nodded, his face returning to its usual stoic mask.
'How can one be so smart and a complete moron at the exact same time?' Bakugo thought, his eye twitching as he watched the exchange.
Todoroki didn't let up, his curiosity piqued. "How long have you been developing this technique?"
"Just a few days." Midoriya admitted. ""Dabi-sensei helped me figure out the safety threshold. It's still really new, so I'm still mapping the limitations."
"What's the maximum effective range?" Yaoyorozu chimed in. "And the tensile strength? Can the tendrils support your full body weight during high-velocity aerial maneuvers, or is it strictly for short-range redirection?"
"Oh! Um, the range seems to be about fifteen to twenty meters right now." Midoriya said, his hands moving instinctively as if measuring the air.
"Maybe more with practice. The strength is... well, it's comparable to my regular enhancement when I focus on a single line, but the tension diffuses if I try to sprout multiple tendrils at once. And yes, it can support my weight. Dabi-sensei has been spotting me during building-to-building mobility drills."
"That's a significant tactical advantage." Yaoyorozu observed, her eyes bright. "Enhanced mobility, capture capability, environmental manipulation... you have essentially added a mid-range utility layer to a close-quarters power set."
"It's also flashy as hell." Jiro added. "Those black energy whips are hard to miss."
"Which means opponents will see it coming." Tokoyami noted. "To maximize its effectiveness, you must develop feints and misdirection to maximize effectiveness."
Midoriya's hero analysis notebook was out in a flash, his pen blurred across the page. "That's a great point, Tokoyami-kun! If I use smaller, low-output tendrils as feints to draw their eyes, I could execute a high-tension maneuver from a blind spot–"
"NERD ALERT!" Kaminari shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. "MIDORIYA HAS ENTERED THE ANALYSIS MODE."
"Let him cook!" Kirishima laughed, throwing an arm around Kaminari's shoulder. "That brain of his is what makes him so manly!"
From the observation deck, Bakugo watched the class swarm Midoriya.
The nerd is finally growing some teeth, he thought.
Even though he refused to assist Midoriya until he controlled it, he had been present during one of the late-night training sessions, watching Dabi put Midoriya through the ringer.
It was the kind of growth that made Bakugo's competitive instincts flare, making him want to train harder, and ensure that no matter how fast Deku ran, the shadow in front of him remained Bakugo's.
But it also made him... not proud, exactly. That would be going too far, but something adjacent to it.
The acknowledgment that Deku was taking this seriously, not wasting the opportunity, and becoming the kind of rival worth surpassing.
"OI!" Bakugo's voice barked across the gym, ending the chatter. "You nerds done gawking? We've got practical exams coming up! Get back to training!"
"Since when did you become the class cheerleader, Bakugo?" Sero teased, though he was already moving back into position.
"SINCE YOU IDIOTS STARTED WASTING TIME! MOVE YOUR ASSES BEFORE I BLAST THEM!"
Aizawa's voice crackled over the intercom: "For once, Bakugo has a point. Resume your drills. Midoriya, you're cleared to integrate the new technique, but if I see even a hint of it redlining, I am calling it a quit. Understood?"
"Yes, Sensei!"
The class scattered back into formation, energy renewed.
The discovery of Midoriya's new ability had injected fresh motivation; if he was getting stronger, they couldn't afford to stand still.
Uraraka caught Midoriya's sleeve before he could jog off to his station. "Hey, Deku? That new move... It was really amazing."
"Thanks, Uraraka-san! I am still a little shaky with it, but–"
"But." she interrupted, her expression softening into something more serious."-just... don't push it so hard that you break again, okay? You looked... different, when it first happened. A little scary."
Midoriya stopped, the pen-scratching excitement in his eyes flickering for a second.
He looked at his hand; the vessel for all those quirks; and then back at her.
He offered a small, reassuring smile, genuinely touched. "I will be careful, Uraraka-san. I promise. Dabi-sensei has been incredibly strict about the output levels. He says controlled growth is always better than explosive progress that ends in a hospital bed."
"Good." Uraraka's bright smile returned, though the concern lingered in her eyes. "Because I need you in one piece for the practicals! We're going to crush whatever the teachers throw at us!"
"Yeah!" Midoriya's determination reignited. "Let's do our best!"
As they moved to their assigned training positions, Midoriya allowed himself a moment of internal relief.
Fortunately, his classmates accepted the 'new technique' without much suspicion.
The black tendrils flickered briefly at his fingertips, almost as if they were responding to the warmth of his gratitude, before settling back into the depths of One For All.
Midoriya turned back to the field, ready to master this power one controlled step at a time.
….
Another week bled into the calendar, and the progression was moving faster than Dabi had anticipated.
The students were responding well to the increased intensity, their movements were sharper, their decision-making was becoming instinctive rather than calculated.
But he had noticed something troubling: he was spending too much time focusing on Midoriya's development while the rest of the class received generic instruction.
That needed to change.
If he wanted to be a better teacher, he needed to work with everyone on an individual level.
So he had begun tailoring specific training regimens to each student's quirk, fighting style, and potential growth trajectory.
But before diving into individual sessions, there was something fundamental they all needed to understand.
"Everyone, gather up!" Dabi called out across the training field. "Listen up. Before we move into the next phase, there is something I need to make absolutely clear."
The class assembled, still breathing hard from their morning warm-up drills; sweat-soaked uniforms, flushed faces, but alert eyes.
"Don't use unfinished moves or untested techniques in real combat." Dabi said, his tone carrying a rare gravity. "That applies to your practical exams and your careers alike. The moment you rely on something you haven't fully mastered, you're staking your life on it."
Confusion rippled through the group, several students exchanged glances, clearly not understanding the point.
Kaminari raised his hand hesitantly. "But Dabi-sensei… isn't that what training is for? Learning new stuff so we can use it?"
"Yeah!" Ashido chimed in. "And during the Sports Festival, everyone was breaking their limits and trying new things! How are we supposed to get better if we don't push the envelope in a real fight?"
"Let me put it in perspective." Dabi said, settling into a more instructive tone. "Imagine two people forced into a life-or-death sword fight: the first has trained for exactly one week. They've learned the basic stances, a few cuts, maybe one or two fancy techniques. Nothing is mastered, but they have a foundation."
He paused, making sure everyone was following.
"The second person has never held a sword. They have never had a single lesson, and don't understand even the basics of form or technique. They are completely, blissfully untrained."
Iida's hand shot up. "Sensei, surely the person with training–"
"They fight to the death." Dabi continued, brushing past the interruption. "No rules, referee, and time limit, just two people with swords in their hands. So tell me… who walks away alive?"
Now he had their full attention, the class breaking into debate almost immediately.
"Has to be the trained guy." Kirishima said confidently. "Even one week of practice gives you an edge! It's about discipline!"
"The untrained person could get lucky." Hagakure countered, her sleeves waving. "Maybe they'd do something so weird and unexpected the other guy wouldn't know how to block it?"
"Statistically, the trained individual should demonstrate superior performance." Yaoyorozu analyzed. "Though variables such as raw athletic ability, reaction time, and psychological fortitude could certainly skew the results."
"The beginner might simply succumb to panic and freeze." Tokoyami added darkly. "Fear can paralyze the inexperienced."
Bakugo scoffed, leaning back with a look of pure disdain. "Doesn't matter. The one who wants it more wins. All that training means jack shit if you hesitate."
"Wrong, partly wrong, totally wrong and still wrong." Dabi acknowledged. "The person who trained for one week dies, and is almost guaranteed."
Silence fell across the training field.
"What?!" Multiple voices responded in shock.
"That makes no sense!" Kaminari protested. "Why would having more skill be a disadvantage?"
"Because knowledge without mastery is a death trap," Dabi explained, his voice taking on a serrated edge. "The guy who trained for a week? His head is a mess of half-remembered instructions. 'Keep your guard up. Don't overextend. Footwork, move the lead foot first. Execute Technique Number Three.' His brain is trying to process a manual while someone is trying to take his head off."
Dabi stepped into the center of the group, his body stiffening as he mimicked a basic sword stance.
"Their body hesitates, trying to remember the 'correct' form they learned. They attempt to execute techniques they haven't internalized, and every movement requires conscious command from his brain. In a real fight, conscious thought takes time. It takes away the valuable fraction of a second where they are vulnerable."
Then he shifted, moving with fluid, instinctive grace.
"Meanwhile, the person who never trained? They just swing the sword. They move however it feels natural, with no hesitation, second-guessing or trying to remember if this is the right stance or that's the proper grip. They move on pure instinct and survival drive. Their body does whatever it takes to not die, and ironically, that single-minded desperation often works better than half-learned technique."
The class was silent now, actually thinking about the implications.
"So, what you're saying is…" Midoriya spoke up, notebook already out and scribbling furiously. "-that partial knowledge is a trap? It creates hesitation and a false sense of security that doesn't actually exist under pressure?"
Dabi gave a small, approving nod. "Half-learned techniques create a false sense of control. You start believing you have an edge you haven't actually earned. But if you can't execute it cleanly while someone is trying to kill you, you end up in a worse position than the person relying on pure, animal instinct."
"But then how are we supposed to actually improve?" Uraraka asked, her brow furrowed with genuine concern. "If trying new moves in combat is dangerous, how do we ever move forward?"
"Master it first, at least to a point where it's battle-ready." Dabi said simply. "Drill it until it becomes instinct, until your body can execute it without conscious command, even under stress, even when you're injured or exhausted."
"That takes forever!" Kaminari complained.
"Better to take time and survive than rush and die." Dabi countered, his voice flat and uncompromising. "This is the difference between training for a trophy and training for survival. In sports, you can afford to experiment and fail. In hero work? Every mistake is a permanent one."
He let that sink in before delivering his final point.
"The line between life and death is razor-thin." Dabi said. "A split-second hesitation while you try to recall the right counter, a sloppy execution because you haven't drilled the muscle memory, a flicker of doubt about whether you can pull it off; that's all the opening an enemy needs."
The weight of his words settled over the class like a physical thing.
"So here is the rule." Dabi continued. "In training, experiment freely. Try every stupid idea you have, push the boundaries, and fail where it's safe. But when the stakes are real, whether in practical exams or field work, you rely only on what you've mastered. You use what your body knows well enough to do on instinct."
Most of the students still looked uncertain, the depth of the lesson not yet fully integrated into their worldviews.
That was fine. Dabi knew they would understand it eventually.
They would feel that cold realization when they found themselves in the middle of a real fight, realizing that the 'cool new move' they hadn't quite perfected was the very thing that was about to get them killed.
Hopefully, they would learn that lesson here, rather than where there were no do-overs.
"Alright, the lecture's over." Dabi announced.
.
….
[To be continued…]
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