When Kirishima arrived at the beach, he whistled at the sight of a stretch of sand half-exposed by the retreating tide.
Once all the trash was cleared away, the place would look nothing short of impressive.
"How did you even find a place like this? Once it’s cleaned up, it’s going to be amazing," one asked.
"Oh—no, my teacher showed me," Kirishima replied.
"Really? He actually discovered a spot like this and plans to use it as a training ground?"
"Yeah."
"So what kind of training are you doing here?"
"I’m clearing out all this trash," Kirishima explained.
"Clearing out trash? Hm. Not bad. But that can’t be all, right?"
"Right. I’ve been mixing it up with other drills—and some of the training you taught me, Kirishima."
"But why waste time on trash cleanup?"
"Well, he said that the essence of being a Hero is to serve others—and that this was my first step toward that."
Midoriya felt a twinge of apprehension, worried that Kirishima might dismiss his efforts as trivial.
Yet Kirishima found the effort remarkable.
After all, All Might had held the No. 1 position for decades.
For someone at his level to care even about something as small as beach cleanup was astonishing.
It was a philosophy fundamentally different from his own relentless pursuit of power.
Kirishima admired that natural heroism deeply.
"Oh. That’s a great sentiment. So the whole beach used to be covered in trash?"
"Yeah. I started about four months ago, but I’ve only managed to clear half of it."
"That’s pretty fast, especially since you’ve been juggling other training as well—and you didn’t even use your Quirk!"
Hearing Kirishima’s praise, Midoriya felt a strange mix of pride and unease.
After all, Kirishima rarely offered compliments, though when he did, they came with precisely reasoned logic rather than empty platitudes.
Indeed, he was known for convincing even those who dreaded his critiques to agree with him—even when they knew the consequences would be harsh.
It was surprising, then, to hear Kirishima speak so highly of something as mundane as cleaning up the beach.
"Well, good. The beach is clean, and thanks to that, we’ve got a proper place to spar. Shall we get started?"
"Yeah. Today, I’m definitely landing a hit," Midoriya declared.
"That might be tougher than last time," Kirishima teased.
The two assumed their stances, facing each other at a comfortable distance.
As always, Kirishima’s posture was solid and impeccably precise, while Midoriya’s stance still looked a bit awkward.
Truth be told, Kirishima had intended to teach Midoriya boxing as well. Since he couldn’t stay right beside him throughout the drill, he had only managed to cover the basics—straight-line attacks like the one–two and some footwork.
The problem was that when they met again a month later, Midoriya’s form was a complete mess.
Without constant correction, subtle deviations accumulated until his stance became bizarre.
Kirishima had even gone so far as to instruct him to film his moves every day, reviewing the footage to correct his errors. Yet no matter how diligently he practiced, a month later he was right back where he started.
He could mimic Kirishima’s demonstrations well enough—so it wasn’t a matter of lacking mirror neurons—but the root of the problem remained elusive.
What perplexed him further was that Midoriya could flawlessly replicate All Might’s movements, deepening the mystery.
In the end, Kirishima concluded that Midoriya needed to develop his own fighting style. Rather than merely imitating others, he had to build a system centered on movements that resonated with him—even if that meant borrowing techniques from other martial arts.
Otherwise, he was on track to become nothing more than another All Might clone.
"Alright, here I come—Kirishima!"
"Bring it on," Kirishima shot back.
Midoriya charged without hesitation, launching a punch at his mentor.
Though a boxer might be hampered on a sandy field, Kirishima navigated the uneven ground with ease, dodging Midoriya’s attack.
The punch, so plainly telegraphed, was nearly impossible to land even if one tried.
"At this rate, nothing’s changed from last time," Midoriya grumbled.
"Wait a moment. I’ll show you," Kirishima replied coolly.
Dodging several more punches, Kirishima suddenly extended his hand and pushed Midoriya’s head.
It wasn’t a hurtful blow, but it left an unmistakable sting of irritation.
Midoriya winced yet continued his pursuit, his determination unshaken.
The friendly duel soon turned into a chase, with Kirishima circling around as Midoriya pursued him.
After evading yet another overly telegraphed punch, a flicker of annoyance crossed Kirishima’s face.
Of course, inventing a martial art was nearly impossible. Even those who had dedicated years to training rarely dared to create something new.
Strictly speaking, Midoriya didn’t need an entirely new martial art—just a personal fighting method that suited him.
The problem was that there was no sign of any real progress.
Exaggerated windups, overly rigid movements, and feet seemingly glued to the earth—these were the hallmarks of his current style.
It was hard to tell if he had found any room for improvement at all.
As Kirishima watched Midoriya, his gaze lowered in quiet concentration, Midoriya’s stance suddenly dropped while his left hand shot forward.
His right hand, held back, waited patiently for its cue.
"Dambe?"
In a puzzled tone, Kirishima murmured as Midoriya hooked his left hand around Kirishima’s own.
Deciding to see where this led, Kirishima let Midoriya take the initiative.
Midoriya pulled Kirishima’s hand downward and swung his right arm. It was unexpected, but not forceful enough to land a hit; Kirishima simply twisted his waist and dodged it.
In the next instant, Midoriya sprang upward and kicked toward Kirishima’s face. Reacting swiftly, Kirishima pushed off the ground to evade the attack, feeling Midoriya’s foot barely brush his hair.
"What did he mix into Dambe with that kick? Taekwondo? Capoeira? Well, that’s not really what matters," he mused, a hint of admiration in his tone.
It was a refreshingly creative attempt. Whether it suited the future wielder of One For All was another matter, but Kirishima was satisfied with the ingenuity behind it.
With a pleased smile, he reached out and flicked Midoriya’s forehead as the latter landed. Midoriya, whose balance had already been compromised once before by a similar blow from Bakugo, could only stagger in response.
Kirishima had controlled the force carefully—without triggering his Quirk—so Midoriya should have been able to take the hit.
"Alright. That’s enough. Better than I expected—clearly you’ve experimented with your techniques," Kirishima praised.
"Yeah. I’ve been researching and trying different things. I’m not like you, Kirishima," Midoriya replied, a spark of defiant determination in his eyes.
Midoriya refused to simply forget what Kirishima had taught; he was determined to master it through relentless practice and repetition.
But the more he trained, the more he realized that he couldn’t control his punches and footwork with the same millimeter precision as Kirishima. Their basic sense of spatial awareness and timing were simply worlds apart.
If he couldn’t master such precise control, what kind of fighting style would best suit the explosive power granted by One For All?
Midoriya searched for a method that would allow him to land a decisive, crushing blow.
One answer he discovered was Dambe—a martial art that treats the dominant hand like a spear and the other like a shield, using the shield to clear an opponent’s defenses before driving in the spear-like strike. It even incorporated a hidden kick in case the spear missed.
"Hmm. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to use it consistently, but the attempt was good," Kirishima observed.
"Honestly, I’m still rough around the edges. But I plan to keep researching and practicing," Midoriya answered.
"That’s the spirit. Keep pushing yourself, and you might just become the best," Kirishima encouraged, clearly pleased by Midoriya’s burning determination.
The quiet confidence Midoriya sometimes exuded, despite often appearing like a clumsy underdog, was exactly what Kirishima admired. Though he wished Midoriya would take better care of himself, he couldn’t figure out why his instincts seemed to kick in only when danger was near. Perhaps things would improve if he had a more reliable partner by his side.
As the two exchanged smiles, applause suddenly erupted along the beach.
"That was wonderful! Midoriya! And you must be Kirishima, right? What an impressive physique!"
"No—my teacher!" Midoriya blurted, momentarily confused.
"Oh, hello there," came the warm greeting.
Internally, Kirishima sighed quietly at the sight of All Might. The loose T-shirt clinging to his muscular yet gaunt frame only emphasized his frail appearance, and the dark shadows under his eyes made him seem almost sickly—though the determination in his burning eyes was unmistakable.
"So you’re the one Midoriya always talks about! You look even stronger than I expected! And I heard you nabbed a Villain recently, didn’t you?" All Might remarked.
"Ah, yes. It’s a bit embarrassing, but I was in a bit of a panic and just acted first," Midoriya admitted.
"No! I’m not blaming you. Kirishima, when you see someone in danger and your body reacts before your mind does, that’s truly admirable. You’re going to be a fine Hero!" All Might exclaimed.
*That wasn’t exactly my body reacting on its own,* Kirishima thought, a flush of awkwardness warming his cheeks as he absorbed the praise.
Though he had indeed acted decisively when the situation called for it—and admittedly enjoyed the thrill of stepping into battle against a Villain—it felt odd to be lauded for it.
"I don’t know about all this praise. I just did what I could," Kirishima said modestly.
"That attitude is wonderful! You truly are a good person, Kirishima," All Might replied.
"See? I told you he helped me a lot—my teacher that is," Midoriya added, still half-embarrassed by his continual efforts to mention All Might’s name.
All Might, a living legend in his own right, felt a twinge of unease as he watched Midoriya repeatedly try to invoke his Hero name.
"Midoriya, there’s no 'All' in my name. Now that I think about it, I know Kirishima’s full name, but he doesn’t know mine yet! Allow me to introduce myself properly. I’m Yagi Toshinori, and I’m helping Midoriya right now."
"A bit late, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Yagi. I’m Kirishima Eijiro. I’m sure Midoriya has mentioned that," Kirishima replied.
Watching the two introduce themselves, Midoriya’s heart soared—it was a moment he had longed for, seeing two of the people he admired most finally exchange greetings.
Although he couldn’t exactly reveal Yagi’s true identity to Kirishima, for now that was enough.
"So you’ve been overseeing Midoriya’s training all this time? I took a look myself, and it’s an impressively structured plan—one I’d gladly recommend to others," Yagi remarked.
"I was just helping him along with my own training. Truth is, if I were to coach him properly, I’d need to be with him every day—but distance didn’t allow that. It feels a bit odd to be praised for that," Kirishima replied.
"Not at all. Thanks to you, Midoriya’s strength has exceeded my expectations. Honestly, you’ve saved us a lot of time," Yagi observed.
Kirishima understood exactly what Yagi meant by that, though he made no comment. Revealing too much now would only invite suspicion about how he knew so much.
"Midoriya has kept pace remarkably well. I’ve known him for ten years now. When we first met, he looked so unsure of himself—I even wondered if he’d ever stick with training. I honestly thought he’d give up at least once along the way," Kirishima recalled.
"Really? You thought that? Why?" Midoriya asked, astonished.
"Why? Don’t you remember how you were when we first met? Bakugo was tearing into you over the smallest things, and you just shrank back in silence—completely overwhelmed. You had no backbone, yet kept saying you wanted to become a Hero without any true resolve. If you knew how much I worried about turning you into someone reliable, you’d treat me with more respect," Kirishima chided.
"Was I really like that?" Midoriya asked.
"Tch. You wouldn’t remember even if you tried. If you knew how much I fretted over whether you’d ever give up—sending you training plans, checking in on you—you’d owe me more than just thanks."
In truth, Kirishima had always worried about Midoriya’s future. He already foresaw what Midoriya could become, even if Midoriya himself remained unaware.
Understanding how easily one could waver in an uncertain future, he continuously adjusted the intensity of the training—resetting, reevaluating, and starting over again until Midoriya finally caught on.
"Why would I ever give up? You believed I could be a Hero, Kirishima. I may be weak at times, but I’m not the kind of person who quits when someone like you is there to support me."
"Alright, alright—fine. I stand corrected. You did well," Kirishima conceded, ruffling Midoriya’s hair affectionately.
It wasn’t a matter of denying his success; the praise was well earned.
"The bond of friendship between us—it’s a sight to behold! And more importantly, during that spar just now, you held back against Midoriya, didn’t you?"
"Yes. It might sound a bit cocky, but if I went all out, Midoriya would be finished in one blow," he said.
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Yeah. That’s about it."
Midoriya had never seen Kirishima’s perfected supersonic strike, which explained his measured confidence.
If Kirishima truly fought at full power, he was certain he could end the bout before Midoriya even recognized the fight had begun.
"I understand. Forgive my forwardness on our first meeting, but would you mind showing me your full-power technique? I might have some advice for you."
"Of course. After all, you’re my teacher," Kirishima replied with a wry smile.
There was no reason to turn down the help of a living legend like All Might.
Stepping a short distance away from the pair, Kirishima focused his energy and pushed his Quirk to the limit.
His cells hardened as they clustered together into larger, tougher polygons that transformed his skin. With each layer of hardening came an increase in his physical abilities, and he raised his durability as much as he could.
"Then let’s begin. It’s a bit embarrassing to display my technique in front of All Might," he announced.
"Hey!"
"K-Kirishima—wait, where’s All Might?"
It was only after blurting out All Might’s name and catching the surprised expressions of his companions that Kirishima realized his mistake.
He had been so focused on the idea of showing All Might his best strike that he’d gotten carried away—and that one slip had cost him dearly.
A cool sea breeze swept between the three frozen figures, and then, silence fell.
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