A cold silence fell over the area.
It was Kirishima who shattered the suffocating stillness.
"Hmm. So this isn’t supposed to get out, is it?"
Only then did Midoriya and All Might regain their composure.
Both stared in shock as they asked,
"K-Kirishima, h-how did you know?"
"Midoriya, shouldn’t you be keeping quiet?"
"No. I mean, isn’t it stranger to not know how I found out?"
"Huh? Why?"
Kirishima was dumbfounded by Midoriya’s question.
Those shadowed eyes, piercing blue irises, and that rare, pure blonde hair—
Above all, a 220-centimeter-tall Japanese man isn’t exactly someone you’d mistake for an ordinary passerby.
Though his muscular build could be imposing, he might as well have been considered family.
Kirishima mused that people in this world were oddly oblivious at times—either failing to notice such a striking figure or simply overlooking him altogether.
"No matter how you look at it, he’s All Might. The hair, the eyes, the height. Sure, you might say he’s like family, but Midoriya—you nearly kept calling him All Might several times before switching it up, didn’t you?"
"Was it because of me? Ugh!"
"Yeah, because of you."
"Ahem. Kirishima, there are circumstances," he added.
"Of course there are. That’s why you carry yourself like this. Considering no one in the media has seen All Might’s current appearance yet, it must be hard to reveal everything. Your secret is safe with me."
Before All Might could elaborate further, Kirishima interjected.
He didn’t want to see the great hero troubled over something as trivial as his identity.
To Kirishima, All Might’s bearing was perfectly suited to a man of his accomplishments—an unmistakable air of dignity.
Of course, even the manga from his previous life occasionally portrayed All Might with a hint of timidity.
That nuance, strangely enough, reminded him of Midoriya.
"There’s no need to explain the details. I’ll just take it as 'there are circumstances' and keep the secret," he said.
"Oh, thank you!"
All Might exclaimed as he briefly shifted into his Muscle Form.
Watching his unguarded expression brought a genuine smile to Kirishima’s face.
Even after fighting villains for so long and holding up Japan on his own, the hero had never lost his humanity.
It was both astonishing and deeply admirable.
In that moment, Kirishima found himself yearning to be just like him.
"Alright, let’s get back to what we were doing."
"Ah, right. I forgot—I was so shocked," Midoriya admitted.
"I was so surprised I couldn’t think straight either."
Kirishima smiled at them, readjusted his stance, and resumed his posture with unwavering precision.
His form, as if measured to the millimeter by an expert, unfolded before their eyes.
Midoriya had witnessed it many times before, yet it never ceased to amaze him.
Just by standing there with such impeccable form, Kirishima seemed to radiate an indomitable spirit.
The bearing of a true master.
"Then, let’s begin."
With that brief command, Kirishima sprang into action.
His movements were so swift that Midoriya almost missed them entirely.
It was just a simple step or two, yet it looked as if he had teleported.
Astonished, Midoriya blinked as Kirishima’s fists flew.
Punches, faster than sound, sliced through the air—only the start and finish visible, with the middle a blur.
Still, one could discern the precision of the move.
Midoriya recalled something Kirishima had once said:
"Midoriya, a punch in boxing isn’t merely about swinging your arm. It’s driven by the motion of your legs. Style creates the fight, but every style begins with the lower body."
It was a revelation.
And it explained why Kirishima had dismissed Midoriya’s own punches as a mess.
Compared to this, the punches Midoriya threw—relying solely on his upper body—seemed utterly ineffective.
Meanwhile, All Might’s face registered astonishment.
The youth before him was the same age as Midoriya.
At barely fifteen, one wouldn’t expect such remarkable prowess.
Yet Kirishima had already ascended into the realm of masters.
From his demonstration alone, it seemed that only a top-tier Hero could hope to contend with him.
Before anyone could recover from the shock, Kirishima concluded his brief display.
"That’s all. I did my best—though I’m not entirely sure how it came off."
As his intense expression softened back into his usual demeanor, he offered a sheepish smile.
Kirishima knew, objectively, that his strength was exceptional.
Yet compared to All Might, he was as insignificant as a firefly before the sun.
He was curious how he appeared in the eyes of such a superhuman.
"Wow! Kirishima, I could barely follow that—amazing!"
"Ahem. For your age, you’re remarkably strong," All Might remarked modestly.
That was hardly flattery.
Even disregarding his age, Kirishima was undeniably powerful.
In terms of sheer combat ability, he could easily pass as a Pro Hero at this very moment.
Perhaps he might even shatter Hawks’ record of opening a Hero agency at eighteen.
But sensing that Kirishima wasn’t merely fishing for compliments, All Might pressed on:
"Thank you for the praise. But tell me—was there anything that seemed lacking?"
"Honestly, Kirishima, you’re nearly perfect already. What I’m about to critique might sound forced, but no one is flawless."
Kirishima listened intently to All Might’s words.
No one can be perfect.
It was a simple truth.
And yet, Kirishima still longed for absolute, flawless strength.
What advice would someone embodying that perfection offer him?
His heart began to pound.
"If I may be blunt, you seem particularly affected by the condition of the ground. Don’t you think?"
"That’s true. A sandy surface is one thing, but muddy ground or underwater combat poses its own challenges," he replied.
"Then, if you want to handle those situations too, why not practice aerial combat? You’re only going to keep getting stronger, and who knows—you might even learn to launch yourself by generating shockwaves through your legs, much like I do."
"That does make sense."
He had already been considering aerial combat to some extent.
In a world bursting with diverse Quirks, neglecting the sky as part of the battlefield would only limit one’s potential.
Yet he had never thought about using his legs to create shockwaves; he’d only imagined kicking off the ground and taking flight.
"So, how exactly can I produce a shockwave with my legs?"
"Huh? I simply put all my force behind them and push off, don’t I?"
"Ah..."
Watching All Might explain so casually, Kirishima was once again reminded of whom he was speaking to.
After all, this was the same man who once earnestly advised, "Smash with your glutes!"
A prodigy in his own right, yet hopeless when it came to teaching technique.
He had encountered many of that sort before, but All Might stood out—even if it was in the worst possible way.
"Yes. I’ll give it some careful thought."
"Haha, sorry if I wasn’t much help."
"Not at all. Getting advice from you is an honor. I’m more than satisfied."
"Oh, is that so? Then I’m relieved!"
"Hahaha."
Kirishima and All Might shared a hearty laugh.
Midoriya, still puzzled by their antics, broke out in a cold sweat.
"More importantly, shouldn’t we start training now? It feels like we’ve wasted enough time."
"Oh! Right. Midoriya, today too, PLUS ULTRA! Let’s push harder than yesterday!"
"Eek! Yesterday was exhausting enough!"
"If you were weak, I wouldn’t be urging you! You’ve built a strong body with my help, so you must keep improving!"
"Yes..."
"Today, I’ll train with you as well—so let’s get to it with all our might."
Somehow, having been molded from a young age, Midoriya had already developed the grumbles of a seasoned veteran.
In his previous life, upon learning he could become a Hero, he had thrown himself into training like a madman; now, he was subtly trying to ease up.
Of course, once he started, he completed every task without a word of complaint.
Kirishima grabbed Midoriya by the nape and led him toward a pile of trash.
"Alright, it’s been too long since we trained together. How about it? It might be fun—don’t you look forward to it?"
"No. It doesn’t sound fun at all..."
With a dejected Midoriya in tow, Kirishima began clearing away the trash.
This time, he deliberately refrained from using his Quirk to loosen up a bit.
Even so, his superior strength allowed him to clear much more than Midoriya could manage.
Only when the sun began to set did the two finally finish cleaning and bid farewell to All Might.
"Well then, we’re off. Midoriya’s mother said dinner is ready."
"Understood! Good work, Kirishima. Midoriya."
"Thank you for today, Teacher!"
"You really need to work on not blurting out 'All' unconsciously. At this rate, everyone will catch on."
"Yeah. If you’ve noticed, maybe I should stop using it altogether."
"I don’t think that’s the real issue..."
Kirishima almost remarked that the problem was simply Midoriya’s carelessness, but he held back.
He decided that as long as he remained alert, everything would be fine.
Not using that word was so typical of Midoriya—and it was rather amusing.
"Hahaha! Then I’ll take my leave—I have evening patrol duties, after all!"
"Yes. Please be careful on your way back and don’t overdo it."
"Well, if I run into a villain, I somehow end up subduing them before I even realize it..."
Watching All Might shrink into his own awkward manner, Kirishima couldn’t help but think just how much he resembled Midoriya.
"Now that I think about it, didn’t someone ask if this kid might be All Might’s illegitimate son?"
Kirishima mused as he regarded Midoriya’s grinning face.
He recalled the remark vaguely—a comment made in passing by someone whose memory had since faded, noted mainly by a distinctive part in his hairline.
"What was his name? Todoroki? No—Shoto, wasn’t it? Wasn’t he also from this city?"
Apparently, he had been introduced as Endeavor’s son.
Though he clearly harbored disdain for Endeavor, that wasn’t the pressing issue. So, with a nod, Kirishima bid farewell to All Might along with Midoriya.
"Then we’re off. I don’t think I can come tomorrow, so it might be a while before we see each other again."
"Oh? Why not tomorrow? Is something the matter?"
"I have to see Bakugo tomorrow as well. Would I come here just to see you?"
"Ah, Kacchan..."
"Anyway, I really should get going. Meeting you was truly meaningful, and I appreciate the advice. Until next time."
"Hahaha! Yes. I look forward to the day we meet again, Kirishima!"
After one final farewell to All Might, Kirishima headed home with Midoriya.
The two walked with the setting sun at their backs.
"Tomorrow I’ll see Bakugo’s parents again after a long while. His mother will probably still look as youthful as ever, and I wonder what his father is like."
"Now that you mention it, just as my mom always adored you, Bakugo’s parents have loved you since you were little, haven’t they?"
"I’m grateful for that. It’s not every day you meet someone who wins you over—even after they beat you up the first time."
"Haha. True. I remember, the first time we met, you actually ended up fighting with Bakugo."
"Did I? He was the one who jumped in first. Besides, wasn’t it because I was trying to stop Mina from intervening when he was yelling?"
"Yeah. Those were the days."
Midoriya said, a nostalgic look softening his features.
Kirishima found it amusing that a fifteen‐year‐old could reminisce as if recalling events from sixty years ago, and playfully smacked Midoriya’s head.
"Don’t get all nostalgic now. That was only ten years ago—why act like you’re recounting old times?"
"Ten years is plenty for everything to change! I’ve changed a lot too!"
"Yeah, a lot indeed. Back then, you wouldn’t have even shouted at me—you’d have been on the verge of tears."
"I wasn’t that bad!"
"No, you were. If your memories aren’t all sugar-coated, you were practically a mess back then."
"No! That’s not true!"
On their way home, where a warm meal awaited, the two exchanged fond recollections of earlier days.
There wasn’t a trace of gloom on Midoriya’s face as he retorted to Kirishima.
Kirishima grinned at the sight.
It seemed the kid had grown up quite well.
The outcome of his own interference had turned out remarkably for the better, and that filled him with contentment.
Fifteen years old, yet already thinking like a father—Kirishima mused as they headed home.
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