Three Months Before the U.A. Entrance Exam
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[Midoriya Izuku's POV – Dagobah Beach, Afternoon]
Crack.
"Gah—!" Izuku's knees buckled as pain lanced through his hand, the force of his punch warping the air and shattering another finger. He dropped to the sand, gasping, watching the ripples of destruction fan out from his latest attempt at using One For All.
All Might, already halfway toward him, skidded to a halt beside his protégé.
"Young Midoriya! You're forcing it again!"
Izuku clenched his teeth, his breath ragged. "I—I had to. The exam's in three months. I can't afford to keep breaking myself."
All Might crouched beside him, frowning in that paternal way he'd mastered. "And you think you'll pass if you walk in with ten shattered fingers and no control?" He jabbed a bony finger to Izuku's chest. "One For All is like nitroglycerin—it's not about brute force. It's about finesse."
Izuku groaned as he stood, wiping blood and sweat off his brow. "Finesse… sure. But how do you finesse an explosion in your veins?!"
All Might let out a breath and turned his gaze to the ocean waves crashing in the distance. "You're trying to punch with a sledgehammer when you should be using a scalpel."
Izuku raised a brow. "That's… not exactly helpful."
"Then try this," All Might said, smiling. "Don't think of One For All as a floodgate. Think of it as a faucet. Start with a trickle. Just a drop. Let it whisper, not shout."
Izuku blinked, then looked at his trembling hand. He closed his eyes and focused inward—not on the roaring fire, but on the flickering ember. Something gentle. Measured.
A second passed. Then he threw a light jab.
Snap!
The air popped like a firecracker—but his bones held.
Izuku's eyes widened.
All Might's grin was instant. "Progress! That's it! Now hold onto that trickle, and turn it into a stream."
---
[Sasaki Kenjiro's POV – Dragon's Fang Martial Arts Academy, Evening]
The dojo smelled like blood, wood polish, and ancient discipline.
Kenjiro stepped inside, dressed in a sleeveless hoodie and fingerless gloves. His eyes scanned the hardwood floors, the worn mats, and the lined-up trophies behind glass cases.
An older man with a buzz cut and a jagged scar running down one cheek stood at the center, arms crossed.
"You're the brat who called about 'advanced training'?" the man grunted.
Kenjiro cracked his neck, then smirked. "Yeah. I need to learn how to break people. Efficiently."
The instructor raised a brow. "Cocky little bastard, aren't you?"
Kenjiro shrugged. "I've only got three months. I don't have time for beginner bullshit."
There was a pause. Then the instructor jerked his thumb toward a nearby dummy.
"Show me."
Kenjiro stepped forward. His fist shifted—mochi stretching and liquefying—before it slammed forward, wrapping around the dummy's torso. With a flex, the mochi hardened like concrete.
CRACK.
The dummy's torso exploded into splinters.
The instructor slowly lowered the cup of coffee he'd been sipping. "…Alright. Let's talk Muay Thai."
---
[Training Montage – The Grind Begins]
Week One: Muay Thai Basics
"KNEES UP, KID!" the instructor shouted.
Kenjiro grunted as he slammed his knee into his sparring partner's padded ribs. Mochi extended mid-strike, giving it unnatural reach.
"GAH!" the partner gasped as he toppled over.
"Don't apologize!" the instructor barked. "He needs to learn too!"
Kenjiro just grinned. "You said efficient, right?"
Week Two: Taekwondo
High-speed footwork. Controlled breathing.
Kenjiro leaped into a spinning roundhouse, his leg extending mid-kick like a whip.
BAM!
The heavy bag flew off its chain and slammed into the wall.
A younger student screamed, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"
Kenjiro dusted off his hands. "Adaptation."
Week Three: Quirk Integration
The dojo's back room became Kenjiro's lab. There, he fused martial arts with his mochi abilities:
"Mochi Elbow Cannon": A lightning-quick elbow that stretched mid-strike for unexpected range.
"Taffy Tornado Kick": A 360-degree spinning hook with elastic recoil.
"Hydra's Guard": A flowing defense—mochi absorbed attacks, then hardened around the opponent's limbs.
One evening, as Kenjiro finished a solo set, the instructor leaned against the wall.
"You fight like a damn anime character."
Kenjiro, panting, grinned back. "That's the idea."
---
[One Week Before the Exam – Midoriya's Breakthrough]
"Seven percent… I'm holding at seven percent!"
Izuku's voice cracked with disbelief and joy as green lightning danced across his body. No broken fingers. No blackouts. Just power—flowing, controlled.
All Might whooped. "YES! THAT'S IT, MY BOY!"
Izuku wiped sweat from his eyes. "It's… finally listening to me."
All Might ruffled his hair, voice soft. "No, you're finally listening to it."
Izuku closed his eyes, breathing in that humming energy. "I won't forget this feeling."
---
[Final Night – Kenjiro's Solitude]
Kenjiro stood atop Musutafu's tallest parking garage, hands in his pockets, wind tugging at his hoodie. Below him, the city hummed with quiet neon life.
He flexed his fingers. They shifted between solid and syrupy mochi, then hardened with a click.
Three months of sweat, bruises, and yelling echoed in his bones. His mind was sharper. His movements, second nature. His quirk? It danced now.
"Martial arts plus mochi… plus ten years of prep."
He grinned, feral and calm.
"Tomorrow, UA won't know what hit it."
---
[Elsewhere – Bakugou Katsuki's Room]
CRACK.
The desk split under Bakugou's fist.
He stared into the cracked mirror above it, breathing hard.
"Deku…"
Something was off. That nerd had been acting different. Stronger. More confident.
"He's hiding something."
He grabbed a grenade gauntlet prototype and slammed it down, scowling.
"And I'll burn it out of him."
******
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