"Alright, Fanboy," All Might yells, striking a bodybuilder's pose with the ocean as a backdrop, "hit me with your best Detroit Smash!"

Midoriya jumps back in shock, almost slipping on the wet sand of Dagobah beach. "But you saw what happened to me last time! If I punch you again, I'll break my arm!"

"Ah, but here's the thing!" his mentor explains, "When you hit a person for the first time with this Quirk, it keeps the output low, so you don't accidentally splatter someone on a wall." He takes a stance similar to that of a boxer and holds out a palm, facing it flat towards Midoriya. "Now, c'mon! Hit me!"

Midoriya looks down at his hands. He tries to remember how it felt when he used One for All last time, but everything's blank other than the vague comparison of an egg in a microwave. He'll have to settle for All Might's instructions again if he wants to do it. "Alright, if you say it's safe..."

His mentor nods eagerly, though waits patiently while he runs through the checklist. "I just need to punch this time, so maybe if I focus on my arm, my legs will be fine?" Midoriya mutters, backing up so he has room to get a running start. Once he's about ten or so feet away, he pulls his right arm back and sprints as hard as he can. He feels One for All course through him, noticing the sheer raw power it contains for the first time, concentrated entirely in his right arm. He nearly backs out, scared that it will blow his limb to bits, but at the last second, right when his fist is about to strike All Might's palm, the power level sharply dips.

"Smash!" A light gust of wind rushes through Midoriya's hair and open jacket. His fist is held tightly by All Might's hand. There's no pain. He doesn't even realize that he closed his eyes until he starts to open them.

Midoriya pulls his arm back, looking at it in wonder. "I… I did it..." he whispers.

"That you did, my boy, that you did." All Might inspects his palm. "Hmm, that wasn't too much power, but considering you can only handle the bare minimum, it'll do for the time being."

"So what's my training going to look like now?" Midoriya asks, eagerly shifting from foot to foot. His mood has already drastically improved. "Will we get to spar?"

All Might laughs, "No, no, we won't do combat training just yet. You need to get better at controlling and getting a feel for your limit first." He strolls over to the fallen pile of trash and picks out the back half of an old sedan. "Practice on this everyday that I'm not here before and after you do your regular trash cleaning, taking care to regulate the power. Once all of the junk is gone, I'll get you into a real gym."

"What about the rest of today and when youarehere?"

"You'll practice on me, of course. Now, take another hit so you get a better feel for your level." All Might holds out one of his hands again. "You may have completed the first step, but you've got a long road ahead of you."

Midoriya nods, determined. "I promise I'll keep working hard!"

"That's what I like to hear! Now, hit me!"

"Detroit Smash!"

[x]

A week goes by, with Midoriya's spirit the highest it's been in years. Something about having a Quirk, itching under his skin, ready to activate makes him feel as light as a feather. People at school were as usual, but now that the year is wrapping up they've all just seemed to forget about the quiet, Quirkless third year.

Midoriya went home every night that week and practiced turning One for All on and off in his room for hours. It was hard at first, but he does it so often that it now only takes a couple seconds to flip on in a limb.

Regulating the power is another story, however. All Might had once mentioned offhandedly that, in his prime, he could generate enough force to affect the weather patterns in an area four times the size of Manhattan. And on top of that, All Might's one hundred percent was probably somewhere around his seventy or eighty percent, if his mentor was to be believed.

He still practices, though. At first, it takes intense concentration, and Midoriya very nearly levels his apartment complex on accident. His limit is around five percent by his estimate, so he mostly focuses on keeping it at or below that level. By Saturday, he's got a good enough handle on it to make sure he won't accidently hurt himself, though the output tends to fluctuate from anywhere between two and five percent.

His training on the beach continues, with All Might showing up on Monday and Thursday. He supervises Midoriya as he hauls bigger and bigger pieces of trash away, and coaches him on how to properly throw a punch.

It's Saturday now, though, and Midoriya is happily sitting on the last piece of trash left on the beach. It's an old engine block, rusted over and brown. It's probably staining his pants, but he doesn't care. The next step is coming.

Midoriya closes his eyes, taking in the rays of the setting sun and the crisp sea breeze with a bright smile. School the previous day was really easy, and he got to take notes on a hero fight on the walk home. What's more was the fact that it wasGang Orcahe got to see. The man had stopped a bank robbery with amazing efficiency, and Midoriya got to see the rare event that was a water-based hero fighting on land.

A soft patter of footsteps on the sand behind him interrupts his thoughts. Midoriya looks over his shoulder. "Oh, hi, All Might," he greets, waving even though his mentor is only two feet away.

"Good evening, Young Midoriya. I take it that's the last piece?" All Might's bundled up in a long, cream trench coat with a violet scarf around his neck.

"Yeah. I got everything but this one in the dumpster a couple minutes ago." Midoriya stands, brushing rust off his pants.

All Might looks thoughtfully out to sea for a moment. He closes his eyes and sighs. "We're sparing today. Just get that engine block in the back of my truck and we can start."

Midoriya quickly complies, leaping over the seawall with five percent One for All channeled into his legs. He kind of botches the leap back, but he can't bring himself to care. He's going to learn how to fight fromAll Might.

"Right, since this is your first real practice match, we'll go easy." All Might grows to his hero form. "Don't be intimidated by my stature or my reputation. Right now, I am your teacher."

It's hard not to be, but Midoriya nods anyway. "So… do we just, uh, start?"

"Real fights don't have starting guns," All Might says.

"So is that a n—"

All Might cuts him off with a quick swipe to his head, which Midoriya barely ducks. "Keep on your toes, you zygote!"

They spar until sundown, and Midoriya gets more than a couple bruises, but he couldn't be happier.

[x]

Toshinori looks up at the moon. It shines brightly, lighting up the sea and casting long, narrow shadows on the world. It's full tonight, he notes. Something about the moon has always made him more thoughtful. Or maybe it was the stars surrounding it, though this close to the city, there were no stars.

The man taps his thigh gently with his hand, which is bathed in moonlight. He has to be honest with himself now, or he'll never be a good teacher. Young Midoriya's progress is too slow.

The boy learns quickly and practices diligently. He hangs off every word Toshinori says, almost taking it like gospel. He even smiles when he fights, bright and fierce. But he's far too stiff. Every attack is telegraphed seconds in advance, and the time in between moves is way great. He's missingsomething,but Toshinori can't figure out what for the life of him.

That's why Toshinori is holding his phone in his hands as he sits in his truck after another night of training. He's shaking, too, which does little to help his state.

There's five and a half weeks before the U.A entrance exam, and he knows his successor doesn't have the technical skills to get enough robot kills to get in. Shiketsu is also an option, but they're very cutthroat, and Midoriya wouldn't be at his best there.

Of course, there's a solution to the problem. Toshinori knows this well. It's actually pretty simple, if he's honest, which he always tries to be. But at the same time, it's also so, so difficult.

With a deep breath, Toshinori selects a contact and hits the call button. While it rings, he thinks. Will he be ignored? Sent to voicemail? Will his teacher even care?

The person on the other end finally picks up with a confused "Hello?"

"Uh, hello. Is this Sorahiko?"

There's a pause. "Who is this?"

"It's All Might."

"Who?"

"All Might."

"Toshinori?"

"Yes! It'sme!"

"Why are you calling me, Toshinori?" The voice is still soft and confused, and he can practically see the innocent old man facade his teacher is wearing.

"I've found my successor, and I need your help."

The line goes very quiet for a while. Then, "Why didn't youleadwith that, you big oaf!? And what do you need my help for? I'm an old man!"

Toshinori winces. "I'm not a good teacher—" "You can say that again." "—and so I need you to give the boy some pointers. Just two days." What Toshinori doesn't say is that spending more than forty-eight hours in the same city as Gran Torino would behell.

"... Fine. But the brat better be worth it!"

[x]

It's the second week of January, and Midoriya is very, very confused. "Wait, so you don't want to be my teacher anymore?"

"No, no! That's not what I mean!" All Might spits a wad of blood into the sand. "I'd just… like for you to see someone else briefly. Learning from just one person isn't good. And it's not like I'm throwing you to the street, the man's m-m-my former teacher." He wavers a bit at the end and his legs start to shake, which confuses Midoriya even more, and even adds a tinge of worry.

"Just how scary is this guy?" he half mutters.

All Might looks at him with a serious expression. There's fear in his eyes. "Very."

Midoriya swallows. His mouth feels dry for some reason. "S-so, where do I meet this guy?"

"Here's the address. It's an old building I rented out to be your gym. We'll use it after Gran Torino's… done with you." He hands Midoriya a small slip of paper.

"D… do I just show up tomorrow after school?" Midoriya asks, focusing more on the sheet of paper than All Might.

"Yes. And… good luck, kid. Gran takes no prisoners."

[x]

The building Gran Torino is waiting in is an old one. It was about three stories tall and made of red and black brick. The roof was flat and had what looked like an old jungle gym made of pipes on top. The windows were boarded up, and the fire escape on the side was rusted. A crude wooden sign that readGym Midoriyawas hung over the heavy metal door.

Carefully turning the handle and pushing in, Midoriya entered. The lights were off, and he clumsily waved his hand over the wall. Eventually, he found a switch, and the lights flicked on.

Taking a look around, Midoriya noticed that the room was filled with workout equipment and boxes. The building was probably one of those restaurant/apartment hybrids before it was sold because there was also a counter in the far end and a staircase leading up.

"Uh, hello?" Midoriya calls, carefully taking off his backpack and setting it on a nearby bench. "I'm looking for a person named Gran Torino? Are they here?"

There's a small sign sitting on top of the counter. Midoriya approaches it, feeling slightly unsafe. "Upstairs," he reads out loud, "Toshi says you're great, but we'll see about that. -GT."

He quickly grabs his backpack again before climbing up the staircase. It's narrow and creaky, which doesn't help his nerves. Once he gets to the top, he fumbles for another light switch and nearly jumps out of his skin when the room lights up.

"Oh my god, he's dead!" There's the body of an old man, laying on the floor in a pool of blood and what looks like entrails. Midoriya drops his backpack. "Oh, god, oh, god, what do I do? I should call—"

"I'm not dead!" the old man exclaims, pushing up. "I just took a fall while carrying some sausages!"

Midoriya looks around the room. It's probably twenty feet tall, and all cold, grey stone, with lots of protruding slabs of concrete. There's some pillars that go from floor to ceiling, and table-like rectangles of varying height. Why would Gran Torino be making sausages in here?

"Say, kid, who are you?" Gran Torino walks over and starts to poke at his backpack with his cane

"Uh, I'm Midoriya," he says. The man is very clearly senile, which kind of makes sense. He taught All Might, so Midoriya knew he'd be old from the get-go. But this is almost too much.

"Toshinori?" Gran Torino asks.

"Midoriya,"the boy corrects.

"Toshinori, what are you doing here?"

"I said my name isMidoriya!"The boy sighs. Then, the old man bends over and starts digging through his backpack. "Wait, you can't just dig through my stuff!"

But then, almost at the flick of a switch, Gran Torino changes. "Hmm. You've got good workout clothes and wrist weights. You came prepared for this." He's suddenly gruff and serious, inspecting Midoriya's green track pants and grey sweatshirt with a critical eye.

"Can you stop, it's not like you can just look through my bag!" Midoriya tries to stop him.

"Sure I can! Now, why don't you fire off a One for All smash at me," Gran Torino says after throwing the set of gym clothes Midoriya brought on to a nearby hunk of concrete.

"I—what? Right now? But I'm not even warmed up!"

"Pfft,warmed up.I'll get you warmed up after you show me how you fight." Gran Torino gets into a loose fighting stance a couple feet away from him. "Any day now!"

Midoriya bows his head in acceptance, "Alright," he says, tapping into One for All and cocking his left arm back. He rushes forward and swings his arm at five percent, aiming down so he hits Gran Torino across the face. But he only hits solid air.

"Oh, that's pathetic! You're so stiff and awkward! Toshinori wasn't kidding," Gran Torino berates, casually resting on a lumpy section of the wall. "Get your butt changed. I can already tell that I've got a lot to teach. We're gonna be here a while."

Midoriya changes at top speed, and quickly re-enters the training room. He doesn't even get the chance to ask a question before Gran Torino slams into his back, drilling him to the floor.

"Keep on your toes, kid! Did Toshinori teach you nothing?" The older man pushes back off, and Midoriya stands. Gran Torino very clearly relies on speed in his fighting style, and Midoriya can tell by his movements that the room is perfect for him.

Narrowly ducking an attack, Midoriya leaps to put his back to a pillar. If Gran Torino attacks chaotically, then limiting his options should help.

"Hey, you're not dumb. That's good," Gran Torino slams a fist into Midoriya's ribs, who didn't even see him coming, "but not good enough!"

Midoriya quickly recovers, pushing up in time to take a kick to the thigh. Gran Torino continues to bounce around the room, diving in for a hit every now and then. As time goes by, it becomes clearer and clearer that there's a pattern.

"Left, right, right, left, right, above, behind, behind, front, left, right, above…" Midoriya mutters, biding his time. Finally, after a couple more minutes of being hit, the moment shows itself. Gran Torino pushes off the ceiling, and Midoriya throws himself to the ground, rolling to his back. At the last second, he pushes up with one hand and throws a punch directly at Gran Toino's head. The man simply tilts to one side before giving his student an uppercut.

"Good eye, but you can't always sit and wait for the right moment." Gran Torino lands on the ground in front of Midoriya. "Real fights don't always have perfect moments, and natural disasters never do. Biding a time like you did is a good skill, but overuse will get you killed."

"I understand," Midoriya says, kicking at the floor in disappointment.

"Wipe that look off your face. You did good for a newbie. Better than All Might, anyways. At least you didn't puke your guts out."

"All Might didwhat?"

"I'll tell ya later. For now, I'm gonna eat some dinner. You're welcome to join me, or you can practice on those pipes on the roof. Just be careful, I don't wanna scrape you off the pavement!"

Midoriya chooses to go up to the roof for more practice. It's a no-brainer, really. He needs more practice. All the other kids taking the entrance exam have had at least eleven years to get used to their Quirks, but he's only had One for All for a since December. The exam's in five weeks, so he needs every bit of practice.

The roof of the building is wide and shrouded by a four foot tall stone wall. The bulk of the floor space is taken up by the ten foot jungle gym in the middle, but there's also a punching bag in one corner and another corner styled like a boxing ring.

The jungle gym on the roof looks old, but a quick shake shows that the welds and metal are both strong. The design is old and would probably give his mother a heart attack. The shapes the pipes make are all inconsistent and off-kilter, crisscrossing every which way. It's clearly made for someone his size, too, which is odd. Maybe it's so he can work on his flexibility?

Grabbing onto a pipe, Midoriya climbs up the jungle gym. He feels himself slipping and quickly activates his Quirk. He overshoots the next pipe and has to use his left leg to kick back up.

It continues like that for a while, with him maneuvering all over the pipes, sometimes going scarily fast. At one point, he even swings a full circle around a particularly high pipe before landing on the ground.

"That was pretty good, but your admiration for All Might is like shackles. It'll only slow you down." Midoriya looks up to see Gran Torino, who's standing with a plate of steaming pastries.

"Uh..." Midoriya says, unsure of how to respond. His admiration for All Might was what made it possible for him to keep going, and now that was a bad thing?

"Don't think too hard about it. C'mon, let's get some more practice in before you gotta go home."

The sparing after that goes a little better. Midoriya tries to mimic Gran Torino for a bit, but he quickly realizes that the focus needed to channel One for All first to his legs, then to his arms, then back again is way too difficult for him to achieve.

In fact, the focus needed to repeatedly turn the Quirk on and off is way too much for him. Towards the end of the practise session, Midoriya just settles on keeping the power in his arms at five percent.

It goes well until he loses concentration and accidentally hits with what feels like seven or eight percent. It's not too bad, but Gran Torino still sends him home a whole half hour early because, "You've messed up once like that, and it'll just get worse the more you practice. Come back first thing tomorrow morning."

[x]

That night after dinner, Midoriya takes a shower. His mom raised a fuss about the bruises and cuts that Gran Torino gave him, but he brushed her off. He needed to think.

The water was hot and steamy, fogging up the mirror and making the tile floor slightly wet. Slipping in, Midoriya lets the water hit his head before it trails down his body. His hair's a pain to wash, so he only bothers every other day. He washes his face next, and his body. Once he's done, he rinses off the soap that was all over his body.

All over his body.

Why was that thought sticking with him? He's showered like this forever—heck, everyone has. It's the most efficient way of cleaning yourself. What else were you supposed to do? Wash one arm at a time?

Wait.

Midoriya quickly gets out of the shower and dries off. Ignoring the fact that there's still some soap on his face, he activates One for All, but this time it's different.

Instead of just one or both arms, or even his legs, Midoriya lets a steady level of five percent flow through his body. It's tough, but not uncomfortable. He can move like this.

"I've got it!" Midoriya jumps, and promptly hits his head on the ceiling of the bathroom. He landed on the floor with a thump and scampered back up.

"Honey, are you alright?" his mom yells from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm alright! Just… slipped and fell!" Midoriya replies, hurriedly putting on his pajamas.

"Are you sure?" his mom calls again. She sounds worried, and there's footsteps coming down the hall.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's nothing bad." Midoriya opens the bathroom door to see his mom standing right outside. "The floor was wet, so..."

"Sweetie," his mom says gently. Her eyes are already watering. "Last year, when you said you wanted to bulk up, I was happy. Those meals aren't cheap, but that was okay. You were doing so much better!" She sniffs and wipes away a tear. "But now, you're gone from five in the morning until ten at night! It's just… I'm worried! And today you even came home with bruises!"

"Oh, Mom…" Midoriya says, because, what else can he? He hasn't told her anything about what he's doing or why. He's done nothing but give her the bare minimum and expected everything back.

"Please, Izuku, baby, justtellme what's going on! I don't know if I can take much more of this!"

"I…" Midoriya tries to say, but he falters. "It's nothing bad, I promise," he tries again, looking at the floor, "it's just… hard to share. But I'll try! Just… let me think for a moment?"

His mom nods slightly before walking off to the living room, and Midoriya slowly sits down in the ground. He rests his head in his hands.

Why is this so hard? Having a Quirk is a great thing and all he's ever wanted. Telling his mom should be easy! But it's not. Every time he thinks about it, he seesthatface.

"Oh, Izuku, I'm so sorry!"

The memory runs on repeat through his mind. It hurts every time, stabbing him through the heart. He tries to mouth the words and practice what he'll say, but all he can see are those tear-filled eyes.

But he has to do this.

Pushing off the floor, Midoriya slinks into his room and grabs a grip trainer. It's the heaviest one he's got, so he can barely close it on a good day. Walking out to the living room, he envisions that awful memory merging with the grip trainer.

"Mom," he says, standing just inside the living room. His mom looks up from her tissue. "I… have a Quirk."

Midoriya channels a small stream of One for All into his hand and squeezes the grip trainer as hard as he can. It snaps in two before falling to the floor. The memory goes with it.

The both of them cry hard late into the night, forgiving and apologizing over and over again.