Midoriya looked down at his scarred right hand, tracing the uneven lines with his thumb. The sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic filled the room, a jarring contrast to the copper and smoke that still lived in his memory.
"Todoroki-kun." He looked up. "Back in the alley. You used your left side. You used your fire."
Todoroki paused, eyes on his bandaged arm. Iida looked up too, surprise clear on his face.
"I realized holding back was pointless." Todoroki's voice was flat, unadorned. "Watching you all at the Sports Festival. The power and determination you showed." A brief look toward the window. "Rejecting half of myself out of spite wasn't hurting anyone but me."
His gaze came back to the room. "I chose Endeavor's agency not to forgive him, but to use him. He's the Number Two hero. If I want to be the best, I need to understand how the best operate. And I need to master these flames on my own terms. As my own weapon."
Iida lowered his head, eyes fixed on his trembling left hand.
"My left arm." His voice carried the weight of something decided rather than grieved. "The doctor said Stain's blade severed the nerves. The damage is permanent."
"Iida-kun..."
"They offered me an advanced surgery." He closed his damaged hand into a weak, shaking fist. "I refused."
"Are you an idiot?" Zoro said from the corner bed. A sharp burn flared across his ribcage as he spoke, but his eyes didn't move. "Fix your arm."
"No." Iida looked at Zoro directly. "I acted out of pure, selfish hatred. I abandoned my duty and almost got all of you killed." A pause. "Until I become a true hero, a man who can proudly inherit my brother's name, I will keep this damaged hand as a permanent reminder."
Todoroki looked at Iida, then at Midoriya's scarred hand. His expression was completely unreadable.
"I'm starting to think I'm cursed."
Midoriya blinked. "Huh?"
"Every time I'm involved, people's hands get destroyed." Todoroki's tone was completely serious. "First your hand at the Sports Festival, Midoriya. Now Iida's arm." A short pause. "Am I the Hand Crusher?"
The dry, understated delivery landed with no warning. Midoriya burst out laughing, the sound filling the cold room with unexpected warmth. Even Iida let out a genuine chuckle, his shoulders dropping for the first time in days.
"My hands are fine." Zoro smirked and crossed his arms over his bandaged chest. The movement pulled at fresh stitches and sent a dull throb through his torso, but the smirk didn't move. "Your curse missed me, Hand Crusher."
The suffocating weight in the room broke apart, replaced by something warmer.
The door slid open. Gran Torino walked in, followed by local Police Chief Tsuragamae.
"You took down the Hero Killer." The Chief got straight to it. "But you used Quirks and lethal weapons without licenses. That's a serious crime."
Iida gripped his sheets. The Chief raised a hand.
"If we make this public, you'll be called heroes, but you and your teachers will be arrested." He looked at each of them in turn. "The second option is a cover-up. Endeavor was nearby. We tell the public he defeated Stain. You get no credit, but your records stay clean."
"Cover-up." Todoroki said it instantly. Midoriya and Iida nodded.
Zoro clicked his tongue. "Take whatever glory you want. Just make sure the police give my swords back."
The Chief smiled faintly and bowed deeply to the teenagers. "As a protector of the peace, I thank you for saving lives."
He left. Gran Torino stayed, tapping his cane against the floor.
The door slid open again. The antiseptic air of the hospital room gave way instantly to the thick, earthy smell of old tobacco. A short old man with long white hair and a wooden pipe stepped inside, a trail of grey smoke following him in.
"You broke a sword and let yourself get carved open." Shimotsuki Kozaburo blew smoke toward the ceiling. "Pathetic, brat."
"Next time I won't." Zoro's smirk was easy and completely confident despite the pain in his chest.
Gran Torino went still. He stared at the old swordsmith, eyes going wide.
"Kozaburo?" Gran Torino's voice came out as barely a whisper. "Shimotsuki Kozaburo? I thought you died twenty years ago."
Shimotsuki shifted his gaze toward the old hero slowly. A small smirk formed around his pipe. "Sorohiko. Look at you. You shrank even more, you old geezer."
Midoriya looked back and forth between the two old men with complete bewilderment. "Gran Torino, you know him?!"
"Know him?" Gran Torino chuckled, something nostalgic passing across his wrinkled face. "Ah, the glory days." He looked at Zoro with new eyes. "No wonder you split that Nomu out of the sky. You're being trained by a living ghost."
Shimotsuki walked to Zoro's bed and dropped the broken sword hilt onto the mattress.
"Your Observation Haki saved your life." His voice was serious in a way different from his usual roughness. "But the steel failed you. You clashed against a will stronger than your metal, and that's why it broke." A pause. "As soon as you can stand, we start Armament Haki."
Zoro's eyes lit up. "I'm ready right now."
A few days later, at the League of Villains' hideout.
Tomura Shigaraki sat at the dusty bar, scratching his neck violently, watching the news on a small screen.
"Breaking News." The reporter's voice came through the television. "Following the arrest of Hero Killer Stain, police raided his apartment in Hosu City. They found a recorded video manifesto detailing his ideology. The video has leaked online and is spreading rapidly."
The screen cut to dark, grainy footage of Stain.
"Heroes today are fakes." Stain's voice filled the dim bar. "They chase money and fame. They do not sacrifice. Only All Might is worthy. This false society must be purged."
Stain hadn't made any speech on the streets of Hosu. But this leaked video was doing exactly what Shigaraki feared most. Stain was becoming a martyr.
"He's stealing my spotlight from behind bars!" Shigaraki hurled his glass at the TV. It shattered and rained across the floorboards.
The bar door creaked open. The broker Giran walked in, followed by two figures in the shadows.
"Don't be so upset, Shigaraki." Giran's greedy smile never changed. "The Hero Killer's video did you a massive favor. It brought all the crazies out of hiding. They think your League is connected to Stain." He paused. "They want to join."
A young man with black hair and grotesque purple burn scars stepped into the light. Beside him, a blonde girl played with a blood-stained combat knife, a manic flush on her cheeks.
"I'm Dabi." The voice was flat and clean.
"I'm Toga!" Wide smile. "I want to bleed people!"
Shigaraki stopped scratching his neck. A wicked smile spread slowly across his face beneath the hand covering his features. Stain had accidentally built him an army.
The four heroes left Hosu General Hospital in charged silence. The physical scars weren't the only things they were carrying.
At the train station, they parted ways. Iida went home, not to rest, but to face his family and stand by his brother Tensei. His gaze was calm with a weight it hadn't carried before. Todoroki boarded his train back to Musutafu, heading straight to Endeavor's agency, not as a resentful son but as someone who had decided to use every available resource to build himself.
Midoriya had already returned to Gran Torino. There was no warm welcome. The moment he arrived, the old man drove him straight into intense field patrols.
"Full Cowling isn't just a combat technique." Gran Torino bounced between rooftops at lightning speed. "It's a way of living. You breathe it, you move with it, until it becomes part of your nature. Don't think about it. Be it."
Midoriya sprinted after him, green lightning crackling across his body. His muscles protested immediately and the lactic acid built at an unnatural rate. The constant full-body flow of five percent of One For All felt like thousands of tiny electric needles under his skin. His lungs burned with every breath as he vaulted an air conditioning unit, his legs heavy as iron. Yet despite everything, he pushed through, understanding that the work of mastering this power had only just begun.
On the other side of Japan, in the crowded streets of Tokyo, people were staring.
Best Jeanist walked calmly while Bakugo followed behind him looking like a volcano that had been waiting too long. The stiff starched fabric of his preppy shirt dug into his neck and the insanely tight denim restricted his blood flow with every step.
"Look at them, Bakugo." Best Jeanist gestured gracefully toward the crowds. "A hero doesn't just fight. A hero is the image the public sees. The way your spine curves, the look in your eyes, even the way you walk, all of it sends a message." He glanced back. "You still lack elegance."
"To hell with elegance!" Bakugo roared, tiny explosions snapping from his palms. "I just want to blow things up!"
"And that is exactly why you are still a student." Best Jeanist replied without breaking stride. Bakugo's jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached, scanning the crowds desperately for any villain to put his frustration into.
Shimotsuki Dojo, Hosu City.
Zoro returned to the abandoned dojo. He sat down on the hardwood floor with a quiet wince, setting his swords carefully to one side. The cold drafty air bit at his skin and the dull pulsing ache in his stitched chest was a constant reminder he hadn't asked for. Shimotsuki Kozaburo sat in the middle of the dark room, smoking quietly. The old man didn't say a word. He just pointed at the floor in front of him.
"I watched what happened." Shimotsuki's eyes gleamed through the thick tobacco smoke. "You faced a real swordsman. A man whose blade was a direct extension of his will. That's why your ordinary sword broke. You clashed against a will stronger than your metal."
He pulled a small knife from his pocket and set it on the floor between them.
"Haki isn't energy you fire outward to hit things." His tone had something different in it now, quieter and more precise than his usual bark. "Armament Haki, Busoshoku, is the art of weaving your spirit around your body and your weapon. Think of your will as an invisible armor coating everything. If you can concentrate that armor and make it dense enough, your blade turns black. It won't break. It won't bend."
Shimotsuki stood and drew a dull old katana from the corner of the room. In an instant, the silver blade became a deep, glossy black, as though it had been dipped in the ink of night itself.
"This is Hardening, Koka." The pressure of his aura made the wooden floorboards creak beneath him. "It's the most difficult level of Armament. It requires you to feel every atom of your spirit, your pain, your drive, and push all of it directly into the steel."
.
.
For Advanced Chapters:
Today there will be Chapter 71, a fiery fight between Zoro and Muscular.
Pat reon is one of the biggest way to help your author to write more and also to get advanced chapters;
Pat re on.com/AZTh
Apple users should subscribe through the website, not the app, because the app costs about five extra dollars due to Apple's fees. That's why I strongly recommend using the web version.