After their unforgettable first encounter, the two plunged into grueling training with unyielding intensity.
The schedule was brutal—training began before meals and lasted over eight hours.
In his previous life, even top professionals would train their bodies for only three to six hours at most; this was an entirely different level of hard work.
Even three days into their regimen, they continued to exchange lessons with burning passion.
"Your lead foot keeps turning inward! I know it’s hard to break habits once they’re ingrained, but you must try harder. If your lead foot rotates inward, it compromises your defense against your opponent’s kicks—and it hinders your own kicks, too. Boxing even demands a stance with feet aligned straight. Get accustomed to it quickly!"
"Yes, sir!"
Kirishima complied with Samat’s instruction, adjusting his lead foot so that it pointed firmly forward.
While boxing stances—especially when crouched—often feature a forward-pointing lead foot, Kirishima typically favored a more upright stance.
In truth, the square stance of Muay Thai and the crouching stance of boxing were so different that their techniques didn’t entirely overlap.
"You’ve got your Quirk on your side, so maintaining your natural posture is acceptable. With your superhuman physical abilities, prioritizing mobility makes sense. Besides, the martial art you’ll eventually rely on isn’t Muay Thai—which you’re only studying for a few days with me—but boxing. You need to absorb what works and forge your own style."
"Mm. That’s true."
"I’m teaching you orthodox Muay Thai so you won’t be caught off guard by kickers. I know your talent is extraordinary, but you still lack practical experience."
"That’s true. I’ve barely had any real combat experience. I’ve fought a few times, but nothing worth bragging about."
While blocking a bamboo sword that whistled in from all directions, Kirishima replied.
In his previous life, even counting his amateur bouts, he’d participated in over a hundred matches—all fought under boxing rules.
Strictly speaking, Kirishima had little experience in no-holds-barred combat.
A handful of skirmishes in his childhood back then, and twice in this life against Villains—that was the extent of it.
Even so, while the brutal streets of his former life followed a harsh, unspoken code, it was still a far cry from pure chaos.
In modern Japan, having clashed with Villains twice at the age of fifteen was nothing short of extraordinary.
Samat’s standards—and Kirishima’s—were unreasonably high.
"I heard your story, and I’m relieved you haven’t let it get to your head over something trivial. Had you done so, I would’ve given you a proper thrashing."
"Haha. I’ve only fought opponents weaker than me. If I’m going to boast, I should at least defeat someone on my level first."
Samat smiled in satisfaction at Kirishima’s reply.
This boy was so combative it was hard to believe he had been raised in peaceful Japan.
Although aggressive individuals were not uncommon, few were willing to throw their whole body into battle without hesitation.
In a tranquil society like Japan’s, where violence was rare and life was cherished, the idea of plunging into combat was almost alien.
But this boy was different.
It was evident from his candid recounting and the energy he displayed during training.
He had been born a fierce predator and an insatiable conqueror.
"Good. Now, don’t just block—counterattack too. No punches; use only kicks."
"Yes!"
In Samat’s eyes, if this boy hadn’t been raised with love by ordinary parents, he might have grown up to be a Villain.
Yet Samat admired that raw, combative spark in Kirishima.
Though the passage of time had faded many things, the fundamentals of martial arts remained the art of obliterating one’s opponent.
Protecting oneself and annihilating the enemy had always been the supreme objective.
Techniques that overly focused on restraining an opponent’s injuries were, in the realm of martial arts, a true anomaly.
In that regard, Kirishima’s capacity to switch to an aggressive stance without losing his cool was ideal.
At the very least, he was the kind of fighter who wouldn’t hesitate at a critical moment and jeopardize everything.
Dodging Kirishima’s clumsy kicks while skillfully wielding the bamboo sword, Samat chuckled softly.
Initially, he hadn’t planned on taking the boy under his wing at all, yet now he found himself almost treating him like a disciple.
"Age really does weaken you," he mused. "I can’t help it."
Just then, the timer rang.
"That’s enough for today. You’ve improved a lot. Starting tomorrow, we’ll begin work on clinch techniques. Honestly, I’m not sure how much you’ll absorb, but it’s better to learn it all the same."
"Yes. I can’t stay long anyway, so the training has to be intensive."
"Big brother!"
As they spoke, the door swung open, and a little boy dashed in, calling out to Kirishima.
The child, his bright yellow hair fluttering as he ran, leaped into Kirishima’s arms without hesitation.
Sliding his hands under the boy’s arms, Kirishima lifted him and said, "Tetsuya, you always come running the moment training ends. And remember, you need to greet your grandfather before you greet me—he might feel left out."
"Ah! Right. I’m home, Grandpa!"
"Ahem. Yes, yes."
"Big brother! You promised you’d go out with me today. Hurry up—come on, hurry!"
As Samat acknowledged the child’s half-bowed greeting with a cough, Tetsuya’s attention immediately returned to Kirishima.
Though Kirishima had grown accustomed to the challenges of children since his reincarnation, he still found them perplexing.
"Alright. I’ll shower first and then we’re off, so wait a bit."
"Okay! Okay!"
Tetsuya nodded frantically, his eyes shining with excitement.
With a resigned smile, Kirishima patted the boy’s head and headed straight for the shower room.
During the three days he stayed at Samat’s house, he also grew acquainted with the family.
Among them, Samat’s grandson Tetsuya had taken an immediate liking to Kirishima.
The boy, who dreamed of becoming a support item developer, had eagerly tried to have Kirishima test all sorts of gadgets he had created.
Many of the items were crude—befitting a seven-year-old—but Kirishima found them impressive for his age.
Their design intent was clear, and they functioned with a decent level of effectiveness.
Tetsuya’s lack of technical skill meant his creations were somewhat unstable, and in that respect, Kirishima—protected by his [Hardening]—proved to be the perfect subject for testing.
Before long, the two became fast friends.
"Twelve minutes, thirty-seven seconds—thirty-eight seconds. Too slow, big brother!"
"No. I need to wash up properly before we go out. Otherwise, it’s rude to others. Why are you in such a rush? What time is the appointment?"
"We're meeting at four at Aunt Miho’s cafe."
"Huh? That’s still plenty of time, and it wouldn’t take long to get there."
"Still, I want to go as soon as possible!"
"Is that so..."
Kirishima merely shrugged at the child’s illogical chatter.
After ten years of looking after his friends since his reincarnation, he had learned that reasoning with children was futile.
For major issues, you must argue until they understand, but otherwise, it’s best to simply follow their pace.
Quickly dressing, Kirishima scooped up Tetsuya and left the house.
"Mom! I’m off with big brother!"
"Be careful, alright? And be on time. Thank you, Kirishima. I know training with your father must be exhausting, yet you still play with Tetsuya."
"Haha. I’m having fun too. I’ll take good care of him."
"Please do. See you later."
"We’re off!"
Outside the mansion, the scorching sunlight greeted Kirishima as he walked with the little boy.
Fortunately, the meeting spot Tetsuya mentioned was close by.
Hand in hand, Kirishima asked, "So, what kind of person is this Hatsume? You said you met her online."
"Mei noona? She’s not only pretty but her personality really clicks with mine. I’m going to marry her someday."
"Marry? How old is she?"
"She’s fifteen! Lucky, right? If she were eighteen, I’d be kind of disappointed. My ideal is someone within ten years of my age."
"Eight years apart might seem like a lot—but more importantly, if a girl your age likes you back, that would be a crime in itself..."
Kirishima was taken aback by Tetsuya’s bold declaration of marriage, but he knew that childhood infatuations were fleeting.
Taking it in stride, he hoisted Tetsuya onto his broad shoulders and asked, "Lucky, huh? By the way, if she’s fifteen, is she in high school?"
"No. She’s in her third year of middle school. Same as you, big brother."
"Hmm. Is that so?"
"Yeah. She said that during summer vacation she has so much free time—it’s great because she can make lots of 'babies'."
"Babies?"
"I mean her inventions. She calls her inventions 'babies.'"
"Ah. I had no idea what you meant. So, how did you meet her?"
"There’s a community for aspiring support item developers. Amateurs post photos and videos of their work, and people provide feedback. I keep posting mine too. I guess the [Infinity Gauntlet] really caught her eye."
Kirishima recalled the most memorable creation among the boy’s gadgets.
It wasn’t its performance that impressed him, but its name.
The item shared its name with a gadget used by the main villain in a blockbuster film from his previous life, making it instantly unforgettable.
There were no Infinity Gems in this world, but the device functioned similarly to a projectile system—a hexagonal bar, essentially a bullet, launched from the back of the hand into the knuckle when a punch was thrown.
Depending on its color, the bar could deliver electric shock, trigger explosions, ignite flames, or even freeze its target.
Of course, even if Tetsuya’s parents were supportive of his dreams, they wouldn’t have allowed him to build something so dangerous from the outset.
So he had to secretly reduce its firepower to a mere tenth while retaining most functions.
And once discovered, he wasn’t permitted to test it himself.
It was a good thing the project hadn’t been scrapped.
Originally destined to rot in a storage room, it had been rescued by Kirishima, who got to try it out.
Though it meant little to him—Kirishima was not the type who needed a weapon to supplement his own formidable power.
"Really? Didn’t you say you uploaded that at the start of the year?"
"Yeah. I posted it as a New Year’s celebration the moment January 1st arrived!"
"Hmm. So you two have known each other for eight months now?"
"Has it really been that long? Heh. At first we just exchanged comments on the post."
"Surprisingly normal communication."
"Then we switched to email, but waiting for replies was too frustrating for both of us, so we started using a PC calling program. Later, we exchanged phone numbers and even had video calls!"
"And now you’re finally meeting in person."
"That’s right! We’re going to meet frequently from now on. Huh? We’re almost there—put me down, big brother. I can’t let her see me acting like a little kid."
"No, you’ll look like a kid anyway."
"No, I won’t! It’s fine as long as I’m not riding on your shoulders."
"A normal girl would probably see you as a little kid regardless..."
As they strolled and chatted, the café where they were to meet soon came into view.
From afar, Tetsuya called, asking Kirishima to put him down.
It was amusing watching the little one try so hard to seem grown-up, yet Kirishima obediently set him down.
That behavior made him look his age—and it was endearingly cute.
Come to think of it, all his friends were, in one way or another, far from ordinary.
There was Mina, incredibly sociable; Midoriya, excessively kind; and even Bakugo, as fierce as a wild beast.
At least Ojiro, whom he met on this trip, was relatively normal.
"Ojiro, next time I see you, I’ll show you some kindness. Let’s get along..."
Thinking again about how impressive his tailed friend was, Kirishima led an excited Tetsuya into the café.
A kindly middle-aged woman greeted Tetsuya as he entered.
"Hello, Aunt Miho!"
"Oh my, hello Tetsuya. Is Old Man Sri Muang doing well? I see your parents sometimes, but I hardly ever see him."
"Grandpa is in perfect health. Lately, he’s been teaching my big brother."
"Huh? Big brother?"
"Hello. I’m Kirishima Eijiro. I’ve been learning all sorts of things from Old Man Sri Muang."
"Oh my. Really? I never thought he would take on a student. He must really like you."
"Pardon?"
"Oh dear, what am I saying—how silly of me. Just pretend you didn’t hear that."
"Oh. Understood."
Kirishima was puzzled by her remark, but let it go.
Samat had mentioned that he never intended to teach anyone, so Kirishima assumed her comment was related to that.
It was odd that an outsider seemed to know his thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to press the issue, nor was it important enough to pursue further.
After all, regardless of past events or opinions, Kirishima was now learning from Samat.
"Auntie, hasn’t the girl with pink hair arrived yet?"
"Oh? In fact, a young girl with pink hair arrived about five minutes ago. She’s over there."
She pointed toward one corner of the shop.
There, a girl with soft, flowing pink hair sat, tapping away at a tablet with a stylus.
"Oh? There she is—Mei noona!"
The girl didn’t seem to notice and continued focused on her tablet while occasionally taking bites of chocolate cake.
Tetsuya tugged Kirishima over to her and shouted again, "Mei noona!"
"Huh? And who might you be?"
"Wha—! It’s me, Tetsuya!"
"Who was that again?"
"You gave me advice about the [Infinity Gauntlet], remember?"
"Ah. The [Infinity Gauntlet] kid!"
"Didn’t I tell you we even had video calls?"
Kirishima was dumbfounded by Hatsume Mei’s complete failure to recognize Tetsuya.
But Tetsuya, undeterred, cheerfully declared, "Yeah! Today you said you’d meet me in person and explain everything!"
"I did. Sorry I didn’t recognize you—you looked a lot chubbier on our video calls, and honestly, I’m not very interested in people."
"Now that you’ve recognized me, it’s fine!"
Watching Tetsuya’s endless cheer, Kirishima let out a sigh.
It seemed that Hatsume Mei had absolutely no interest in Tetsuya.
Of course, if a girl his own age were into a seven-year-old, that would be a problem—but this was typical child behavior.
Soon enough, the two drifted into their own world, speaking in terms only they understood, and Kirishima sensed that today was going to be a long one.
Indeed, being the guardian of a child—especially one fixated on a field you knew nothing about—can be exhausting.
Wondering why, ever since his reincarnation, he seemed to get entangled with kids so often, Kirishima finally sat down.
The battle with an alien language had begun.
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