"You already know the first step," Shimotsuki said, his voice echoing in the cold dojo. "You awakened it back during your sports festival. The ability to hear the 'Breath of All Things'. That is the purest form of Observation Haki. It allows you to sense the weakness in a falling leaf or the strength in solid steel."
Shimotsuki took a slow drag from his pipe. "But hearing the breath is not enough. To protect your blades from shattering against overwhelming Quirks, you must impose your own will. Armament Haki is like wearing an invisible armor. Right now, your spiritual energy is locked inside your body. You need to pull that energy out and force it to flow into your weapon."
Zoro looked down at the Sandai Kitetsu resting in his lap. "Flow..."
"Close your eyes," Shimotsuki commanded. "Don't force it with your muscles. Force it with your spirit."
Zoro closed his eyes. He took a slow, deep breath, focusing on the raw, untamed energy boiling deep within his gut. He imagined that energy acting like a river, forcefully channeling it down his right arm, through his palm, and directly into the metal of the Kitetsu.
Suddenly, the cursed sword let out a high-pitched, metallic hum.
Zoro opened his eyes. The steel of the blade had not turned black, but a transparent, shimmering aura now danced violently along the razor-sharp edge, distorting the air around it like heat rising from asphalt. The sword felt incredibly heavy, radiating pure, scorching pressure.
Shimotsuki watched the shimmering blade and nodded in approval. "That is the first step. You've managed to create the invisible barrier, the 'Flow'. But you have a long way to go. You must train this relentlessly."
The old man pointed his pipe at the sword. "The black blade—Koka—requires you to condense that energy until it becomes absolute. It demands an immense physical toll, and it only truly awakens in the fires of life-or-death combat. For now, this invisible barrier will keep your swords from breaking, but you must keep pushing your limits."
Across the country, the other students of Class 1-A were finishing their own grueling weeks.
Tsuyu Asui had successfully utilized her adaptability to help the Pro Hero Selkie intercept a dangerous group of smugglers at sea. Kirishima and Tetsutetsu had survived a punishing week of relentless community service and physical conditioning under Fourth Kind. Bakugo had endured days of agonizingly strict behavioral correction under Best Jeanist, while Uraraka had completely transformed her close-quarters combat style through intense martial arts training with Gunhead.
The seven days of the hero internships were a harsh, unforgiving crucible. But as the week finally came to an end, the students of Class 1-A had been fundamentally changed.
The 7th Day - The Farewells.
Izuku Midoriya stood at the doorway of the agency, holding his heavy costume briefcase. His entire body ached with a dull, throbbing soreness from maintaining Full Cowling for days on end, but he stood straighter than he ever had before.
He turned to the short, grumpy old man leaning on his cane.
"Thank you, Gran Torino," Midoriya said, bowing deeply. "For everything."
"Hmph," Gran Torino snorted, adjusting his scarf. "Don't get cocky just because you figured out how to hop around without breaking your arms. You're still green, kid. You are not Toshinori. You are your own person. Remember that, Izuku."
Midoriya smiled warmly, gripping his briefcase. "I will!"
Meanwhile, back in Hosu City, Zoro stood at the entrance of the dojo, wearing his U.A. uniform with his black sword case strapped securely across his back.
Shimotsuki walked up to him and tossed a standard, ordinary katana with a black scabbard. Zoro caught it easily in his left hand.
"Use this to make do for now," Shimotsuki said, taking a puff from his pipe. "Keep working hard on your Armament Haki. It will help you protect your blades and greatly increase your offensive and defensive power. But remember, in the future, you must find a true third sword. Something strong that will give you more power and control."
The old master looked at the green-haired boy, a rare, faint smile touching his lips. "Give my regards to Kenji. And take care of yourself, brat."
Zoro smirked, turning his back to the old master and walking out into the overgrown courtyard. "I'll find it. See ya, old man."
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