Dagoba Beach shimmered under the early sun as Takeru floated a meter above the sand, arms folded, waiting. The rhythmic crash of waves mixed with the distant cries of seagulls, but he barely noticed. Takeru stared at his right hand—it had regenerated up to his forearm now—and his right eye was blurry, but he could see movement before putting on a new eyepatch. His mind was already assembling lesson plans for Midoriya: visualization drills, whole-body activation exercises, and most importantly safety. Anything to prevent a repeat of Midoriya breaking his bones every time he used his quirk.
Midoriya and All Might finally arrived. Midoriya waved awkwardly, already clutching his notebook, while All Might approached with his booming voice ready to greet the day—until he coughed blood, steam puffed off his body, and he shrank instantly into his gaunt form.
"Good morning, Takeru-shōnen," Skinny Might wheezed.
Takeru sighed. "Morning. Please sit. Both of you."
Midoriya sat so fast he nearly face-planted. All Might lowered himself gently, trying to maintain some dignity despite looking like a cardboard cutout of himself.
Takeru fixed the former Number One with a flat stare. "All Might, I have a question."
"Yes, Takeru-shōnen?"
"How did you learn to use One For All when you inherited it? Did you need meditation? Visualization? Breathing techniques? Anything?"
All Might smiled. "Oh, no. Nothing so complex. I simply clenched my butt cheeks and yelled SMASH from the heart."
Takeru blinked once. Then twice.
He slowly sank to his knees.
He tilted forward.
He put his forehead gently into the sand.
Midoriya panicked. "T-Takeru-kun?! Are you okay?!"
Takeru did not respond. He pressed his forehead deeper into the beach, considering drowning himself in six inches of seawater out of secondhand embarrassment.
"So what was your advice to Midoriya when you first gave it to him? Midoriya told me you trained him for ten months."
Skinny Might laughed. "You mean my special All Might All-American Dream Plan. Yes, but that was to build muscle, because Midoriya-shōnen was so scrawny and weak he would have exploded if he inherited my power immediately."
"So how long did you train with your power before you used it?" Takeru asked Midoriya.
"The day before the exam," Midoriya said quizzically.
"What advice did All Might give you on using his power?" Takeru asked, unable to hide the irritation in his tone.
Midoriya scratched his chin. "Clench your butt cheeks and yell SMASH from the depths of my heart!"
Takeru sighed. Unable to keep his rage from boiling within him, he used his superspeed and appeared behind All Might and karate-chopped him.
"OW!" All Might rubbed the spot, indignant. "What was that for, young man?!"
"You," Takeru said, voice frighteningly calm, "are an idiot."
Midoriya gasped. All Might sputtered. Takeru's eye twitched.
"That," Takeru continued, "was the worst advice you could give a quirkless teenager inheriting a nuclear battery. Clench your butt cheeks and yell smash? All Might—he could have killed himself! Or leveled a building! And killed a bunch of his fellow students!"
Skinny Might shrank even more. "I—I was speaking figuratively—!"
"You were speaking foolishly."
He exhaled, rubbing his temples. "All right. Enough. Let me fix this."
He stepped back and motioned for Midoriya to stand.
"Midoriya-kun, describe exactly what happens when you activate One For All."
Midoriya snapped open his notebook. "It builds up inside me like pressure—like pure force in my muscles—and when I release it into a punch… everything breaks."
"Because you misuse it," Takeru said simply. "All Might could handle it because he had a monumental frame, and One For All was far weaker when he inherited it because the stockpiling nature of the quirk means it gets stronger with time. You have a much smaller frame, and the quirk is far stronger than it used to be. Frankly, I am surprised you are not dead."
Midoriya gulped.
Takeru walked toward a nearby boulder and set his palm against it lightly.
"This is proper distribution. I am distributing the force across the surface area of my palm."
He spread the force across the entire surface of his palm. A deep tremor resonated through the rock.
Then he tapped the same spot with a single knuckle.
The boulder split cleanly.
Midoriya gawked at him like he had turned water into wine. Even All Might, despite everything, looked impressed.
"That," Takeru said, "is control. A palm spreads power across a wide surface. A knuckle concentrates it into one point. Same energy—different application. Your problem is that you only know how to punch with everything you have. Your body—especially your hands—were not meant to handle that. In time we could train to that extent, but for now we will need a different approach."
Midoriya bowed apologetically, as if his quirk had insulted the world. "S-Sorry—!"
"Stop apologizing," Takeru said. "Stand."
Midoriya obeyed instantly.
"One For All must flow through your body evenly. It must feel like a field surrounding your muscles. If you try to channel it through one limb, the stress will destroy the bone. We are going to visualize the power spreading across your body and just feel the sensation until you can tap into it at will."
He stepped toward the water's edge.
"Also, we need to change your fighting style. You punch too much. Your legs contain your strongest muscles. With your smaller frame and lower center of gravity, you should be able to kick fast and still maintain balance."
Before Midoriya could respond, Takeru drew his leg back and kicked the air above the water.
The impact didn't touch the ocean—but the air compressed violently.
A massive wave exploded outward, ten meters high, rolling like a displaced wall of blue glass.
Midoriya fell backward again. "WOW?!"
"Air displacement," Takeru explained. "Your kicks can generate shockwaves. Perfect for ranged combat."
Midoriya wrote at hyperspeed until the pencil snapped.
"All right," Takeru said, folding his arms. "Time to design your training program."
Midoriya straightened like a soldier.
Takeru outlined it clearly:
"First—visualization. Meditation every morning before activation. One For All must circulate around your body, spread evenly and thinly, to activate a small part of your power."
Midoriya nodded rapidly.
"Second—whole-body activation drills. Jogging with controlled output. Push-ups using minimal bursts. No more full-power smashes until you master distribution. We can always work on power once you have mastered OFA and your body begins to adapt. For now everything will be focused on precision and control."
More furious writing.
"Third—leg technique. You will practice kicks underwater."
Midoriya froze. "W-Water?"
"Yes. Water increases resistance but reduces bone impact. We will practice controlled shockwave kicks and develop that move before the festival."
Midoriya's eyes blazed with determination.
"Finally," Takeru said, voice softening, "do not fear your power and don't doubt yourself."
Midoriya bowed so deeply his forehead hit the sand. "THANK YOU, TAKERU-KUN!! I WON'T LET YOU DOWN!!"
All Might smiled quietly behind him.
And for the first time since receiving One For All, Midoriya didn't look terrified—he looked ready to prove his worth.
10 days later
Takeru's eyes were now perfect and his right arm was back, although his hand looked a little raw. I will be ready for the U.A. Festival—and not that I need two hands to win that. He felt magnitudes stronger than he ever had in his life. Even his personality had changed; he wanted to fight, to feel the thrill he felt when he fought the Nomu. The exhilaration of giving it his all, pushing his limits. Any self-doubt he had was gone—Takeru wanted it all now. Shun-san had made plans to maximize the spotlight on him. Bots on the internet controlled by the HPSC and certain paid journalists would ensure positive coverage to increase his hype. These were the last few days of anonymity Takeru would have before he became mainstream.
Dagoba Beach had become their second home. Ten days of training had reshaped the shoreline: fresh trenches from Takeru's footwork, gouges carved into rocks from Izuku's experimental kicks, and long smoothed patches of sand where their sparring sessions always ended. Takeru floated several meters above the water, arms folded, a glove covering his healing right hand. Izuku stood below him on the wet sand, panting lightly, wearing simple training gear.
"Midoriya," Takeru called down, "activate five percent."
Izuku closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing. A faint, controlled glow ran along his limbs. For ten days they had drilled this exact moment—visualization, meditation, pressure distribution.
"Good," Takeru said. "Now come at me."
Izuku sprang forward, sand exploding behind him. His speed had increased dramatically. He launched a kick toward Takeru's torso.
Takeru floated back an inch, letting the kick pass. "Better. Again."
Izuku pivoted, spun, and lashed out with a heel strike. Takeru caught it with one hand, barely shifting in the air. Even so, the impact vibrated through the surface.
"Remember," Takeru said, "legs for offense, arms for gauging distance and feints. You're not built to punch with your whole heart the way All Might did. At least not yet."
Izuku nodded and lunged again. This time he tried a feint—left hip twitching to suggest a low sweep before snapping upward with a rising kick. Takeru didn't dodge. He tapped Izuku lightly on the chest with his palm. Izuku shot backward like a launched volleyball and splashed into the shallows. He surfaced coughing but grinning.
"Safety first, Izuku-kun. Don't leave yourself open trying to finish the fight. Protect yourself at all times. If you are incapacitated, you could die, or people could be killed on your watch."
Izuku sputtered, "Y-You were holding back, right, Takeru-kun?"
"Yes," Takeru replied. "If I had actually struck you, your head would have flown to the next prefecture."
Izuku laughed nervously and stumbled out of the water. Takeru floated lower until he hovered just above eye height.
"Again," Takeru said, "but this time, approach from the air."
Izuku hesitated. "I still can't… not like All Might."
"You don't need to. We are practicing for the future—when you have more control over your ability—a way to maneuver in the air so you don't become a sitting duck. You can still dodge, better yet create a new vector of attack."
Izuku inhaled, gathered power into his legs, and launched himself upward. His silhouette cut across the sky. He twisted midair, pulling a move that resembled Takeru's spinning kick—though slower and rougher—and aimed it toward Takeru's head.
Takeru smiled inwardly. "Good. Now follow through."
Izuku extended his leg fully and released a controlled burst of power. The resulting wind pressure forced Takeru to shift aside for real this time. Izuku splashed down a few meters away but rose with triumph shining across his face.
"That felt different," he said.
"It should," Takeru replied. "You finally understand your vector. Kicking translates power into range without breaking your bones. You have far better control over your power now; with controlled output to your legs, you can not only move faster but attack at range as well."
Izuku nodded, writing mental notes he would later spill onto ten notebook pages.
Their sparring continued. Takeru taught him how to maintain distance: sweeping kicks, feints, and setups. Then they transitioned to grappling. Izuku rushed in, attempting a takedown. Takeru shifted his weight just enough to break the angle, then gently pushed Izuku off-center. Izuku stumbled and fell onto his back.
"H-How did you do that?" Izuku groaned.
"Balance," Takeru said. "That was technique. Grappling isn't about strength. It's about leverage."
He helped Izuku up with his left hand.
"Try again."
Izuku tried three more times. He failed three more times. Each failure ended with him face-first in the sand, sputtering but determined.
After an hour, Takeru motioned for him to sit on the driftwood log where they rested between sets. Izuku collapsed gratefully, hands shaking from exertion.
"Midoriya," Takeru said, "you're stabilizing five percent."
Izuku looked up sharply. "R-Really?"
"Yes. Your body isn't fracturing. We haven't had to visit Recovery Girl in three days. I would say that's your base form now. You can build from here progressively."
Izuku wiped sweat from his brow, trembling with excitement. "I—I actually did it."
"You did," Takeru agreed. "You need to build on this—not just power, but your own way of fighting. You owe it to All Might to make this power your own. Remember, Izuku-kun, this is your quirk now. To truly master it, you must believe it is yours. If you constantly doubt yourself, you don't just insult yourself—you insult the people who believe in you, like All Might and… me."
Takeru said it trying to sound earnest despite spouting utter nonsense. But the boy needed self-esteem—he was such a self-sacrificing masochist that Takeru had to save him from himself. Izuku nodded so hard it looked like his head would come off.
"What kind of style do you think would be best suited for me?" he asked.
Takeru pondered for a moment. "No style is truly original. Take the best from All Might's style and my own, and add your kicks. All Might's style relies on punches, but the speed and power behind them overwhelm people before they can even react. Do the same, but with your legs. I do something similar, but I use my flight to add another dimension to my attacks, making me more unpredictable. You could take the aspects of our styles that suit your body and make it your own."
Izuku's eyes widened and he grinned. "A-All Might's… and yours… combined?"
Before Izuku could start mumbling, Takeru karate-chopped him. Flattening the green-haired boy into the ground.
Izuku flushed, but his grin didn't fade.
Takeru pointed toward the horizon. "Once your legs reach higher thresholds, you'll create shockwaves like the ones I can. You saw it on day one. That's your future."
Izuku swallowed. "That's incredible…"
"Also," Takeru said, "you need support items."
Izuku blinked. "S-Support items?"
Takeru nodded. "Compression gloves that can direct the pressure. I heard you took out villains in the water rescue area with your finger flicks. Power Loader can design them. They'll make your ranged attacks viable."
Izuku frantically scribbled notes, nodding furiously.
"I'll ask him immediately!"
Izuku stared at his hands with renewed resolve. "Thank you… Takeru-kun. I mean it. I feel like—like I'm finally getting stronger."
Takeru nodded and smiled, and through the side of his eye he noticed All Might sitting in his small form quietly observing everything with a smile on his face.
Izuku exhaled shakily. "I won't let you or All Might down."
Takeru smiled and nodded.
AFO POV
The bar was dim, lit only by the soft glow of medical monitors and the hum of Garaki's portable lab equipment. All For One sat in his high-backed chair, posture relaxed, his ruined face hidden behind layered bandages.
In a glass jar was a huge arm severed at the elbow. AFO chuckled softly."An unexpected gift. I had assumed the boy who fought my Nomu was Toshinori's successor… but this—" He raised his chin toward the arm. "—this tells me he is something else entirely."
Garaki didn't look up, too engrossed in the tissue sample he was dissecting. "Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary. The muscular density exceeds anything I've recorded. And the quirk factor…" He trembled with excitement. "Smart Atoms. What a delightful name our Commission friends have given it… and accurate. The quirk is self-optimizing. Designed to survive."
AFO tilted his head. "Tell me, Garaki… could I absorb it?"
The question froze the doctor. His hands stopped mid-movement. Slowly, he lifted his goggles and stared directly at AFO.
"No," Garaki said. "Absolutely not."
AFO raised a brow behind his bandages. "Oh?"
"The Smart Atoms quirk resists integration," Garaki continued. "I've tried combining it with other quirks—dozens, in fact. The results were identical every time. Smart Atoms devours the new quirk factors. Treats them like foreign tissue. Erases them."
"Hmm." AFO's tone remained pleasantly calm. "An immune system."
"Yes! Exactly! If you absorbed it, it would attack your existing quirks. One by one, they would be stripped from you. Your body—already at its limit from decades of accumulation—would not survive the conflict."
AFO gave a soft, thoughtful laugh. "So I am reaching my limits."
Garaki bowed his head. "While the quirk is amazing and, based solely on quirk-factor output, might rival Star and Stripe's quirk or One For All, the risks of absorbing such a quirk outweigh the potential benefits. Even in a new body, there could be complications."
AFO rested his fingers together, contemplative."So be it. I will not take it for myself. But its existence… tells me the new age of quirks is finally here."
His voice darkened, satisfied."And when I choose my new body, I will choose one worthy."