Shimotsuki's last words still hung in the cold dawn air.
"Show me how you fall."
Zoro drew Wado Ichimonji in a single clean motion without taking a fighting stance. He simply stood with the sword at his side, his eyes fixed on the old man who hadn't moved from where he stood.
Shimotsuki carried no sword. Both hands hung at his sides, as though the real question had nothing to do with fighting at all.
"Three swords," Shimotsuki said, his eyes moving slowly between the white blade in Zoro's hand and the two sheaths on his hip. "When you draw one, what do you do with the other two in your mind?"
Zoro paused. "I keep them ready."
"You keep them ready." Shimotsuki repeated the words without sarcasm and without agreement. "And what does that readiness cost you?"
Zoro didn't answer. But he didn't deny the question either.
Behind them, Aizawa stood with crossed arms and watched the exchange with eyes that missed nothing. An old man asking his student about the cost of holding a sword was not standard weapons training. It was something else entirely.
"Sit," Shimotsuki said.
Zoro sat across from him on the grass with the sword resting on his knees.
Shimotsuki looked at Aizawa. "What comes next is for the boy alone. I respect your presence, but I won't be able to speak freely with others listening."
Aizawa took the words in for a moment, then said he would be within reach. He turned and walked toward the far end of the rocky valley without adding anything else.
When Aizawa's footsteps faded past the threshold of what could be heard, Shimotsuki settled in front of Zoro.
"Tell me what happened in Kamino. I want the moment your strength failed you. What led up to it."
Zoro looked at him steadily and didn't ask how he knew the details. He said only that he had been facing multiple enemies at the same time, creatures with raw physical power that far exceeded anything he had expected.
He paused, then continued. His Armament Haki had been pushed to its absolute limit. Every time he coated his swords to block a lethal blow, the coating threatened to shatter. He was forcing too much energy into the blades just to keep them intact, and eventually the sheer exhaustion of maintaining that brutal output pulled him under.
Shimotsuki was quiet for a long time. He looked at the small mountain behind Zoro, then at the waterfall, then at the heavy air between them.
"You are treating your Haki like a blunt hammer," Shimotsuki said finally. "You believe that pushing more volume into the steel makes it stronger. That is the mentality of a brawler, not a swordsman."
Zoro narrowed his good eye. "If I didn't push it, the swords would have broken."
"Because your flow is chaotic." Shimotsuki corrected him smoothly. "You give each sword a share of your attention, but you try to fill all three at maximum capacity at the exact same moment."
He let that sit, then continued. "Right now you are pouring a raging river into three small cups simultaneously. Half your energy splashes onto the ground and you never even see it. The exhaustion that took you down wasn't from the enemy. It was from your own waste."
Zoro received this in silence with the same steadiness he received everything that deserved receiving.
"How do I fix the flow?"
"By stopping the flood." Shimotsuki rose slowly and signaled Zoro to stand with him. "Close your eyes. Hold Wado Ichimonji only. Keep the two remaining swords at the absolute edge of your mind. Do not let them be a burning fire. Let them be a quiet ember."
Zoro closed his eyes and adjusted his grip.
"Now coat Wado with Armament Haki. Only Wado. Make it dense, not loud."
One attempt. Then another. The dark metallic sheen crept slowly up the white blade.
On the third try, Zoro felt a clear and distinct difference. The Haki in Wado was present, razor sharp, and bound to the steel like a second skin. The other two swords sat behind his awareness like embers that neither died nor flared. The coating didn't drain his stamina at the alarming rate he was used to.
"Hold it longer," Shimotsuki said.
Zoro held the dense coating for thirty seconds, then sixty, then two full minutes. His breathing remained perfectly even.
"Open your eyes."
He did. The blade gleamed with a terrifying, contained darkness.
Shimotsuki gave a faint nod. "That is the difference between someone who uses Haki and someone who understands it. Once the steel becomes familiar with this flow, maintaining it will be far easier."
In the ground floor lounge of Heights Alliance, Midoriya sat at one of the large dining tables with his hero notebook open in front of him.
He was staring at the page where he had written All Might's advice from the day before.
"Energy that isn't directed doesn't disappear. It looks for an outlet."
Midoriya pressed his right hand into a fist on the table, looking at the jagged, thick scars running across his knuckles and fingers. He felt completely stuck, unable to untangle the true meaning behind those words.
Iida walked out of the kitchen area carrying a massive, awkwardly stacked tower of recycling bins and heavy plastic crates to help clear the morning clutter. He marched forward with his usual rigid determination.
A stray skateboard left carelessly near the sofa by Kaminari rolled directly into his path.
Midoriya inhaled sharply, bracing for the crash.
Instead of tripping or dropping the load, Iida executed a rapid, sharp pivot. He drove his right leg firmly into the linoleum floor and activated the internal torque of his engines in a single instant. The sudden burst of lower body power counterbalanced the shifting weight of the crates perfectly, keeping his upper body completely steady as he slid past the obstacle without losing a single container.
"A hero must always maintain absolute lower body stability to distribute unexpected weight effectively!" Iida announced, adjusting his glasses with his one free pinky finger.
Midoriya froze. His eyes locked onto Iida's legs and stayed there.
He looked down at his own scarred hands. Then back at the powerful structure of Iida's boots.
An outlet.
The realization hit him like something physical. The energy didn't have to go through his arms. His arms were constantly breaking because he treated them unconsciously as his only weapons, blindly copying All Might's style. But his legs were entirely healthy. They carried a massive amount of untapped power and natural muscle mass. If he could distribute the explosive impact of One For All through his lower body, using it for high-speed mobility and combat kicks, he could save his arms entirely.
The riddle All Might had left him dissolved into a clear, brilliant path forward.
Midoriya grabbed his pen and started sketching fast, his mind running faster than his hand could follow.
As the rest of the class drifted into the common area for breakfast, Iida noticed a detail and stopped in the middle of the room with an expression of careful confusion.
"I noticed Zoro wasn't in his room this morning." He chopped the air with one hand. "I saw him go up early yesterday. But today I haven't seen him anywhere."
Midoriya looked up from his frantic sketches. "Same here. I looked down from my balcony because I had gotten used to seeing him train behind the building every morning. He wasn't there."
Uraraka and Mina exchanged a curious look, and Mina suggested he might have found a quiet spot on the roof to sleep outside.
Todoroki said from the end of the table, holding his warm cup of tea in both hands, "No. Zoro doesn't get lost in his sleep. He goes exactly where he intends to go, and then simply cannot find his way back. Those are two very different things."
In the far corner of the table, Bakugo was eating his spicy meal without raising his head. But his sharp ears were catching every word.
When the students arrived at Gym Gamma in their hero costumes, Zoro had already finished his private session with Shimotsuki and reached Section 17 well before any of them.
As they entered the massive industrial gym and looked toward the monitoring screens, screen seventeen showed him moving between the concrete bridges.
His rhythm was entirely different from the day before. Quieter. More measured. Deadly.
Bakugo stopped mid-step, his eyes locking onto the screen. "When did that moss head get here?" The words came out as a low growl.
Kirishima answered naturally that it must have been very early, judging by the heavy sweat already on the swordsman's shoulders.
Bakugo didn't add anything. But something in his expression shifted. Not his usual loud provocation, but something closer to a silent, burning decision made entirely in private.
He cracked his knuckles once, lightly, and walked toward his section without looking back.
Uraraka noticed the shift and smiled quietly, pointing out that Bakugo had just gotten seriously motivated.
Jiro plugged her earphone jacks together and said in her usual flat tone that Bakugo was always motivated, but this was a completely different level.
Before everyone dispersed toward their zones, Aizawa called out from the upper observation platform in his flat, tired voice.
"After the first training session today, anyone who feels something needs adjusting in their costume or support equipment will go to the Support Department. Hatsume and Power Loader are available to receive you in rotating groups. Four per group."
He said nothing else and returned his gaze to the monitors.
The announcement moved minds before it moved bodies. Kirishima looked at his hardened hands. Yaoyorozu thought about the exposed space her costume needed when producing large items. Todoroki didn't move, but his eyes shifted slightly toward his left side. Midoriya looked down at his heavy red shoes and grinned.
The first group consisted of Midoriya, Iida, Uraraka, and Aoyama.
Ectoplasm walked them to the Support Department in a separate campus wing, where the sound of grinding machines and sparking metal reached them twenty meters before they arrived.
The heavy steel door opened automatically. They stepped into the chaotic workshop.
Mei Hatsume was standing on top of a messy worktable, holding something small and highly volatile with transparent safety gloves. Her oversized glass goggles made her eyes look the size of her palms.
She looked up and beamed instantly.
"Midoriya! Iida! Uraraka!" she shouted with the chaotic happiness that completely dominated whatever space she occupied. "And Aoyama! Wonderful, come in, come in!"
Power Loader stood at the side of the workshop, reading a technical file with practiced calm. He looked up, welcomed the group, and asked who wanted to start.
Midoriya stepped forward. "I have something very specific I want to discuss."
Hatsume's interest doubled immediately. She declared she loved specific requests.
Midoriya sat down and explained the raw energy that leaked into his hands because his arms were what he relied on most. He described his new idea of distributing the explosive flow to his legs to relieve pressure on his damaged arms without losing any attack power, which would require specialized sole protection and dedicated leg support.
Hatsume stopped talking for the first time since they had arrived.
Then she slowly summarized it back to him: he wanted a costume modification that protects his feet the same way it protects his arms, without adding any bulky weight to either.
Midoriya confirmed it was exactly right.
Hatsume's golden eyes lit up with absolute madness. She laughed loudly and announced that a spectacular new baby was about to be born in her workshop.
On the other side of the workshop, Iida was explaining a completely different problem to Power Loader, detailing how the burst speed of his Recipro Burst made him collide with obstacles he couldn't see in time.
Power Loader listened, wrote notes, and said with focused attention that Iida needed a forward sensing system that worked at a three-meter range. He promised they would build exactly that.
The remaining groups moved through at a faster pace. Kirishima, Bakugo, Sero, and Kaminari came in together.
Kirishima asked for better flexibility in his costume's joints at the hardening points.
Bakugo said nothing at first, sitting in the corner with crossed arms. After a long silence, he demanded an adjustment to the internal discharge system in his gauntlets, noting that his sweat explosions concentrated in the right palm slightly more than the left. He said it in the tone of someone reporting a critical mechanical fault, not requesting assistance. Hatsume smiled widely and didn't comment on his attitude.
In Section 17, Zoro hadn't gone anywhere near the Support Department. He was sitting on the edge of the high suspension bridge, quietly sharpening Sandai Kitetsu.
The faint metallic scraping echoed through the empty concrete section.
Footsteps approached from behind at a familiar, tired pace. Aizawa noted that everyone else had already gone to upgrade their gear.
Zoro replied calmly that he knew, but he didn't need anything from a bunch of mechanics.
Aizawa came and stood beside him, looking down at the dark void below the bridge. "Your three swords are not something built or made in this school. I understand that perfectly well."
He paused. "But the costume itself. The simple white shirt, the haramaki, and the bandana."
Zoro said nothing. Aizawa continued.
"Kenji, my teacher, wore a very simple costume when he worked as a pro hero. He didn't overcomplicate it with gadgets. A fitted combat shirt and a sturdy belt that kept his sword at his waist. Nothing more."
His tone was not advising. It was merely observing. "You resemble him a lot in that aspect. But your white shirt gets shredded and exposes all your blind spots after the very first heavy strike."
Zoro kept sharpening the cursed blade, then slowly stopped. "What are you suggesting?"
"I am not suggesting anything. I am describing a solution." Aizawa said it flatly. "A combat kimono. Dark colors. Light material. It hides your muscle movements and footwork from the enemy without restricting what you do with your arms."
Zoro returned the sword to its sheath with a sharp click. He thought for a few seconds, imagining the unrestricted movement of a traditional robe across his arms during a full swing.
He stood up, adjusted his three sheaths on his hip, and turned toward the exit. "Fine. I will go check it out."
Aizawa watched him march away. The tired teacher knew perfectly well that Zoro had turned with complete confidence toward the general education wing, which was in the entirely opposite direction of the Support Department.
He decided it was not his problem and let the swordsman figure it out.
Ten minutes later, Zoro was marching down an unfamiliar wide corridor lined with pristine blue lockers and academic club posters. He was completely certain the loud mechanical sounds should be right behind the next set of doors.
He pushed open a heavy oak door, fully expecting the smell of oil and welding sparks.
He found himself standing in the middle of the school's massive, silent library.
Rows of dusty books stretched out before him in every direction. A few students looked up from their quiet reading with total confusion.
"Who keeps moving the hallways in this place?" Zoro muttered under his breath.
He crossed his arms and stared at the nearest bookshelf as though it were personally responsible for his detour.
He turned sharply on his heel, walked back into the main corridor, and nearly walked directly into a group of students.
Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, and Aoyama were on their way back from their session with Hatsume.
"Zoro!" Midoriya blinked in clear surprise, looking at the library doors behind the swordsman. "What are you doing in the academic wing? I thought you were training in Gym Gamma."
Zoro kept his arms crossed and looked at them with complete, unshakable confidence. Not a single trace of embarrassment showed on his face.
"I am taking a tactical route. I am memorizing the structural layout of the school's emergency exits. The Support Department is obviously just around the next corner."
Iida chopped the air with his hand with mechanical precision. "Zoro, the Support Department is in the entirely opposite direction! You are currently heading straight toward the Principal's administrative office!"
Zoro clicked his tongue in annoyance and glared at the blank wall beside him. "I already knew that. I was testing to see if you actually knew your way around the campus."
He turned his body exactly toward the direction Iida had indicated. "Don't follow me. I have an errand."
Uraraka laughed quietly behind her hands as they watched him march down the hall with exaggerated, stubborn purpose.
When Zoro finally pushed open the correct heavy doors of the Support Department, Hatsume was busy discussing a blueprint with Power Loader. She turned around.
"Zoro!" she yelled happily, recognizing him immediately as the scary swordsman from her team at the Sports Festival.
She asked how his wounds were healing, whether he was still training like a maniac, and offered him the chance to try a brand new rocket-powered boot prototype.
Zoro cut her off completely, his voice perfectly level. "I am not interested in any of your inventions."
Hatsume blinked. "But I have a gadget that shoots..."
"I came to request one specific thing." Zoro said it calmly and absolutely.
Hatsume went entirely quiet. Power Loader knew from experience how rare that was.
The pro hero stepped forward and looked at the student with professional attention. He welcomed Zoro and asked exactly what he needed.
"A kimono," Zoro said. "Black. No useless decorations. The fabric should feel light enough that I forget I am wearing it, but it absolutely cannot tear in a real fight. I need wide sleeves that do not restrict my arms during high-speed swings. And a haramaki that holds all three swords firmly in place regardless of what my body does."
Power Loader sat at his desk and started writing. He confirmed the color, asked about material resistance, and inquired whether Zoro prioritized impacts, extreme heat, or both.
Zoro said impacts first. Heat resistance would be good if it didn't add weight.
Power Loader asked if the haramaki truly needed to be perfectly stable through jumps, dodges, and rapid rotation.
"Even if I am completely upside down in mid-air." Zoro said it with the deadpan expression of someone describing a regular occurrence.
Power Loader wrote the note down without remarking on the last sentence.
Behind Power Loader, Hatsume had been reading the requirements list over his shoulder in complete silence.
For two full minutes she said nothing. Her golden eyes moved line by line with the hyper-focused expression she only wore when an engineering challenge had genuinely seized her. Then she spoke.
"Nano carbon fiber woven seamlessly into traditional Japanese raw linen, because it is the lightest possible fabric for warm environments and sits comfortably against human skin while being heat resistant up to six hundred degrees and cut resistant at the same time."
"If we add a microscopic inner layer of impact-absorbing kinetic material, the kimono functions as a hidden tactical armor at zero added weight."
"As for the haramaki, I can integrate a biodynamic magnetic lock system that secures the sword sheaths with dynamic stability to resist any centrifugal force. This means even during rapid aerial rotations and high-speed directional changes, the sheaths remain perfectly stable."
Power Loader called her name in the tired, warning tone he had trained himself to use over the semester. She stopped instantly.
He looked back at Zoro. "We will take your measurements now. A UA prototype will be ready within two to three days using the rapid fabrication system in the lab."
"The official production version, built with the final specifications and reinforced
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