Reality Checks and Awakened Powers
The first day of the hero internships was a massive reality check for Class 1-A. For many, it was nothing like they imagined.
"I'LL KILL YOU! LET ME GO!"
Bakugo roared, though his voice was muffled. He was tightly bound from neck to toe in thick, unyielding denim threads. Behind him, the Number Four Hero, Best Jeanist, calmly parted Bakugo's explosive, spiky hair, slicking it down into a painfully neat, classical style.
"Fierce bears and wild dogs can be tamed, Bakugo," Best Jeanist said smoothly. "I didn't choose you for your raw power. I chose you to correct your savage behavior. By the end of this week, you will be a gentleman."
Elsewhere, Mineta was on his hands and knees, scrubbing a hardwood floor with a sponge. He had chosen Mt. Lady's agency expecting... other perks. Instead, he was currently doing her laundry, cleaning her floors, and taking out the trash. He was an unpaid maid.
In a bright studio, Yaoyorozu and Kendo from Class 1-B stood under blinding camera lights, holding bottles of hairspray while the heroine Uwabami struck a pose. Both girls sighed internally. They came to do real hero work, not shoot shampoo commercials.
But while some students dealt with frustration, others were walking a much darker path.
In Hosu City, Tenya Iida stood beside the Normal Hero, Manual. They were patrolling a quiet street, but Iida wasn't looking at the civilians. His eyes were cold, scanning the dark alleyways. He hadn't come to Hosu to learn how to be a hero. He came to this specific city for one reason only: The Hero Killer.
League of Villains Hideout.
The atmosphere inside the dimly lit bar was suffocating.
Tomura Shigaraki glared through the hand covering his face. Standing across from him was the Hero Killer, Stain.
"You want me to join your little group?" Stain's voice was like grinding metal. He looked around the bar with absolute disgust. "What is your goal?"
"Goal?" Shigaraki scratched his neck aggressively. "I just want to destroy things that annoy me. Starting with All Might, and those brats at U.A."
In a flash of movement too fast to track, Stain drew his jagged blade. Before Shigaraki could even blink, he was slammed to the floor, Stain's knee digging into his chest and the cold steel of a blade pressed directly against his throat.
"You are nothing but a child throwing a tantrum," Stain hissed, his eyes burning with fanatic conviction. "You have no ideology. No grand purpose. Bloodshed without meaning is just petty crime. The only true hero in this fake society is All Might. The rest are cancers that must be purged. I will not align myself with a goal-less thug."
Stain pulled his blade away, leaving a thin cut on Shigaraki's neck. He turned and walked out into the shadows, leaving the League behind.
Yamanashi Prefecture.
Midoriya stood frozen in the doorway of a small, rundown house. His heart stopped. Lying face down on the floor, surrounded by a massive puddle of red liquid, was a frail old man.
"A-AHHH! HE'S DEAD!" Midoriya screamed in absolute panic.
The old man slowly lifted his head. He licked some of the red liquid off his cheek. "I tripped while carrying my sausage platter. Spilled my ketchup."
Midoriya face-faulted. This is Gran Torino? The man who trained All Might?!
At first, the old man seemed completely senile, calling Midoriya "Toshinori." But the moment Midoriya put on his upgraded hero costume, the senile act instantly vanished.
"Show me the power of One For All," Gran Torino commanded, his eyes suddenly razor-sharp.
Midoriya activated his Quirk in his arm, aiming a smash. But before he could even swing, Gran Torino vanished.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The old man ricocheted off the walls at blinding speeds, using the air jets on the soles of his feet. He slammed his boot squarely into Midoriya's face, knocking the boy flat on his back.
"You think of your power as something separate from yourself," Gran Torino said, standing over him. "And your overwhelming admiration for All Might is a shackle holding you back. Figure it out, boy."
That night, Midoriya sat in Gran Torino's kitchen, staring at the microwave. He had put a frozen Taiyaki pastry inside to heat it up.
Ding.
He took a bite. The edges were burning hot, but the center was completely frozen. He stared at the pastry. The heat hadn't distributed evenly because he just blasted it in one spot.
A spark ignited in Midoriya's mind.
That's it! he thought, his eyes widening. I've been using One For All like a light switch! I turn it on to 100% in just my arm or my leg when I attack, and it breaks my bones. I shouldn't just focus on one spot.
Midoriya dropped the pastry. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Don't flip a switch. Keep it flowing. Take the 5% that my body can currently handle... and distribute it evenly. Everywhere. All at once.
He clenched his fists. Suddenly, glowing red lines mapped across his skin. Vibrant, crackling green sparks of electricity erupted, wrapping entirely around his body.
Midoriya opened his eyes, feeling the power humming perfectly in every single cell of his body without breaking a single bone. He looked at Gran Torino, who was watching from the doorway with a satisfied smirk.
One For All: Full Cowling.
Hosu City - Shimotsuki Dojo.
Zoro threw the mop into the bucket. The wooden floor was practically glowing. There wasn't a single speck of dust left in the entire building.
Shimotsuki walked into the room, taking a puff from his pipe. He looked at the floor and nodded. "Not bad."
"Are we done playing house?" Zoro snapped, clearly annoyed. "Let's get to the real training."
"Impatient brat," Shimotsuki grunted. "Go put on your gear and bring your swords."
A few minutes later, Zoro stepped out. He wore his classic white shirt, dark trousers, and green haramaki. His bandana was tied around his left bicep, and his three swords were securely fastened to his right hip.
Shimotsuki's eyes immediately locked onto the swords. He pointed his pipe at the white-hilted blade.
"The Wado Ichimonji," the old man said, a rare trace of nostalgia in his voice. "I forged that blade myself. Carried it in my younger days, then gave it to Kenji as a gift. Now, it belongs to you. Take good care of it."
"I always do," Zoro said, resting his hand on the hilt.
Shimotsuki's gaze shifted to the reddish-brown hilt next to it. His eyes narrowed. "Where the hell did you get that one?"
"This?" Zoro tapped the hilt of the Sandai Kitetsu. "Found it in a police lockup with confiscated weapons. I liked it, so I took it."
Shimotsuki stared at him in disbelief. "You 'liked it'? Kid, are you out of your mind? Do you even know what that sword is?"
"No," Zoro answered bluntly.
"That is the Sandai Kitetsu," Shimotsuki warned, his voice grim. "It's a cursed sword. Every single swordsman who has ever wielded a Kitetsu blade has met a horrific, gruesome end. It is a bloodthirsty weapon that actively tries to kill its master."
Shimotsuki paused, expecting the boy to flinch, to sweat, or to immediately drop the sword in fear.
Instead, Zoro just smirked.
"A cursed sword that wants to drink blood?" Zoro chuckled, a dangerous thrill in his lone eye. "Nice story. I like it even more now."
Shimotsuki's jaw dropped slightly. He stared at the smirking teenager. Kenji wasn't exaggerating. This kid's confidence isn't normal. He's a monster.
"Anyway," Shimotsuki cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Kenji told me you awakened Haki. As you know, Observation Haki is usually the easiest to awaken. Armament is the second step. And Conqueror's... well, that's reserved for the elite few. You can't train for that."
The old man took a long drag from his pipe. "Before I teach you how to coat your swords in Armament, I need to see exactly where your Observation Haki currently stands. We're going to do a simple test."
Zoro's smirk widened. He knew exactly what "simple" meant coming from an old master. It meant pain.
Zoro rested his hand on his swords, his eye locked onto the old man. "I'm ready."
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