School had ended. Graduation banners had been packed away, classrooms emptied, and the echoes of the final bell faded into memory. For most students, it was a time of celebration and rest but for Izuku Midoriya, the work was only beginning. Ten months remained before the UA entrance exam, ten months to build strength, control his quirk, and forge himself into someone worthy of being a hero.
The city streets were quiet that morning as Izuku stirred awake, sunlight peeking through the curtains of his room. He stretched, muscles still sore from the previous day's training, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Today, like every day for the past week, he was going to the beach.
Dagobah Beach lay just beyond the city limits, a stretch of sand littered with rusted appliances, twisted metal, and the faint remnants of a forgotten past. It had become his proving ground, a place where he could test the limits of his newfound powers in isolation until today.
With a water bottle and a small bag slung over his shoulder, he stepped into the cool morning air and walked toward the distant hum of the tide. The scent of salt and iron filled his senses, and he felt the faint metallic heartbeat beneath the sand as he approached his training area.
"Alright…" he whispered to himself, closing his eyes and focusing. Slowly, almost subtly, a handful of screws began to levitate, circling lightly around his head. A bent pipe rolled toward him and stopped inches from his outstretched hand.
His focus wavered, and the objects clattered to the sand. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Training alone was necessary, yes but it was exhausting to test himself against an unpredictable sea of scrap.
Then he heard it: faint voices drifting from the other side of a large trash pile. Curiosity pricked at him, heart racing. He had never heard anyone else training here before.
Quietly, he lifted a rusted car hood with a gentle magnetic push, floating it beneath his feet like a platform. Step by careful step, he climbed the pile of scrap on the other side, trying to remain hidden. From this vantage point, he could see clearly without being noticed.
Across the sand, sunlight glinting off something bright, he spotted Kirishima, towel over his shoulder, laughing lightly as he lifted a large metal pipe with ease. Beside him stood All Might, arms crossed, his signature grin in place, though his posture was serious and deliberate.
Izuku froze, heart hammering. He wanted to listen, to learn, to understand All Might and Kirishima were speaking as if no one else were present.
In his distraction, he shifted slightly and the rusted car hood beneath him slipped, clanging loudly as it tipped against a pipe.
All Might's eyes snapped toward the noise, concern and suspicion flashing across his face. "What was that? Who's there?" he called, voice firm but controlled.
Izuku's cheeks burned. He hadn't planned to reveal himself. "I-it's… it's just me! I-I'm sorry!" he stammered, raising his hands slightly, voice trembling. "I didn't mean to— I was just… shocked… seeing you here… and with Kirishima!"
Kirishima stepped forward quickly, raising a reassuring hand. "It's alright, All Might. He's my friend. I trust him he wouldn't tell anyone. He's serious about training, and he wants to be a hero. He wants to go to UA too."
All Might's sharp gaze lingered on Izuku. "I see… very well. But understand, secrets like this One For All, my involvement they must be protected. Can I trust you, boy?"
Izuku swallowed hard, his chest tightening with a mixture of awe and fear. "Y-yes! Absolutely! You're… you're my favorite hero! I… I wouldn't tell anyone, I promise!" He stumbled over his words, fanboying slightly, cheeks flaming red.
All Might's expression softened ever so slightly, though his eyes remained serious. "Good. That is reassuring. Courage and trust are as important as strength."
Kirishima grinned at Izuku, clapping him on the shoulder. "Alright then! If you're serious, let's get to training. You train on your own a bit, I'll do my own, and at the end of the day, we can spar. That way we both get stronger, and we learn to fight together too."
Izuku nodded eagerly, determination settling over him like armor. The morning sun glinted off the scattered metal around him, waiting to bend to his will.
He began his training by lifting and spinning scraps, fine-tuning the orbiting patterns of his compressed metal balls. He experimented with trajectory, timing, and distance, learning how to ricochet balls off debris for unpredictable angles. Pipes became targets to smash or use as springboards; old barrels became shields; every piece of scrap was both an obstacle and a tool. He focused on precision, speed, and control, ensuring each spinning ball could be used simultaneously for offense and defense.
Meanwhile, Kirishima ran across the sand, lifting heavy metal beams overhead to test endurance and striking them into the ground to gauge impact resistance. He dodged falling debris, jumped across uneven piles of scrap, and practiced charging at imaginary opponents, hardening different areas of his body to prepare for unpredictable strikes. Even in the isolation of the beach, he challenged himself to push further than his limits.
All Might observed from a distance, occasionally offering advice. "Kirishima, maintain your posture when you absorb impact don't overextend your legs. Izuku, remember the spin radius on the balls too tight and you risk hitting yourself." His eyes never left them, alert to every subtle move and adjustment.
The morning passed, and the two trained tirelessly, each using the environment in different ways. Sand kicked up in clouds, metal clanged against metal, and the rhythm of their effort became almost meditative a dance of strength, strategy, and focus.
By mid-afternoon, the two friends converged, laughing and calling out to each other as they began sparring. Pipes and scraps became obstacles, debris became shields, and the beach transformed into a dynamic training ground.
"Alright, Izuku! Let's see what you've got!" Kirishima shouted again, fists ready.
Izuku tightened his grip on a rusted metal pipe, focusing. Around him, five of his compressed metal balls spun rapidly, while a sixth hovered close to his side, ready to act as a shield or springboard. His quirk hummed quietly in his mind, linking him to the metal around him.
As the balls orbited him, Izuku's mind flickered back over the past thirty days of relentless training. He remembered scavenging discarded cooking pans, broken pots, and pipes along the beach. At first, controlling them individually was clumsy; they collided and toppled unpredictably.
I need them small, dense, and coordinated… like mini wrecking balls, he had thought.
He had spent hours squishing the pans into dense spheres heavy enough to hit with real force, yet small enough to spin rapidly without losing control. He tested numbers, timing, and momentum, finally settling on five spinning offensive balls and one defensive ball to protect himself from Kirishima's brute strength. He practiced ricocheting off debris, coordinating the balls for both offense and defense, and integrating stray scraps as feints. Every day he honed the system, turning his quirk into a calculated fighting style.
Izuku swung the five spinning balls outward, each one whipping through the air in a controlled arc. They blurred together like a storm of metallic pendulums, each ball following its own orbiting path but all synchronized under Izuku's precise magnetic control.
The first ball struck Kirishima squarely in the ribs, a deep metallic thunk echoing across the beach. His hardened skin absorbed most of it, but the force still made him grunt and stagger a half-step.
The second came low, slamming into Kirishima's right shin. Hardened or not, the angle forced his leg to buckle for a moment Izuku had aimed it specifically to break his stance.
The third ball hit his left forearm as he raised it to block, sending sparks dancing where metal scraped against hardened bone-like skin. Kirishima shook his arm out, feeling the sting through the hardening.
The fourth and fifth balls came from opposite sides Izuku had curved their paths.
One smashed into Kirishima's back shoulder blade. The other clipped his hip with enough force to twist his torso. Even with hardening active, the hits were adding up, But Kirishima was built for battles like this.
He lowered his stance, grit his teeth, and charged through the barrage, letting the balls rebound off him like hail against a tank.
"Manly!" he roared as he powered forward.
Izuku's eyes widened. He yanked the sixth ball the defensive one—into position at his side just in time. Kirishima's first strike came fast: a hardened right hook aimed at Izuku's temple. Izuku barely managed to snap the defensive ball into the punch's path.
CLANG!
Kirishima's fist smashed into the ball, sending vibrations rattling through Izuku's fingers and forearm. Still, the force of the hit launched Izuku backward, boots digging trenches in the sand as he slid. Before he could regain balance, Kirishima followed with a shoulder tackle, all muscle and momentum.
Izuku planted the defensive ball under his foot and magnetically launched himself upward like a springboard. Kirishima's shoulder sliced through the air beneath him, missing by inches. But Kirishima wasn't done.
He leaped up after Izuku, hardened knee raised, aiming to slam into Izuku's stomach midair. Izuku crossed his arms and pulled two of the spinning balls inward to defend.
The knee crashed through Izuku's guard, slamming into his forearms and chest. The impact knocked the air out of him, sending him tumbling backward through the air.
Izuku recovered just enough to send one ball spinning toward Kirishima's face. Kirishima twisted his head, and the ball scraped across his cheek, leaving a shallow spark-trail but no real wound thanks to his hardening.
Izuku landed rough, skidding across the sand. Kirishima landed a second later, sending cracks through a buried sheet of metal beneath him.
Izuku's eyes darted left, right, calculating.
He pulled the defensive ball back to hover over his heart, ready to intercept. The other five resumed their furious orbit.
Kirishima wiped a bit of sand off his jaw and grinned wide. "That all you got, Izuku?!"
Izuku tightened his stance, metal balls humming around him like planets around a sun.
"Not even close!"
Izuku steadied his breathing, the six metal balls orbiting him like a shield of miniature planets. His chest burned from the knee strike, and his arms trembled slightly from blocking Kirishima's punch, but his eyes were sharp focused.
Kirishima stomped forward, cracking the ground under his hardened feet. "Round two, bro! Let's go!"
Izuku didn't hesitate. He flicked his fingers, and two of the orbiting balls shot forward like cannonballs.
Kirishima crossed his arms and tanked both hits one slamming into his forearm, the other hammering into his hardened jaw. It rattled him, but he kept moving.Izuku sent the third ball arcing wide, curving it toward Kirishima's spine.
Kirishima anticipated the move this time, twisting his body so the ball struck his hardened ribs harmlessly. Izuku smirked. "You're getting used to the angles."
"Sure am!" Kirishima roared.
He dashed forward. Izuku triggered a metal plate buried under the sand. It ripped upward with a burst of magnetic force, catching Kirishima by surprise as it slammed into his knees. The red-haired teen stumbled forward slightly—
And Izuku capitalized.
All five offensive balls crashed in from different angles:
• One struck Kirishima's thigh.
• One clipped his hardened elbow.
• One hammered into his ribs again.
• One smashed into his lower back.
• And the last slammed into his shoulder.
Even through hardening, the blows slowed him. But not enough. Kirishima planted a foot, roaring through gritted teeth. "You hit hard, but I hit back!"
He leaped through the barrage and closed the distance before Izuku could pull the balls back into position.
Izuku's defensive ball zipped in front of him like a metal shield. Kirishima punched straight into it.
CLANGG!
The sound echoed across the beach. Izuku was thrown backward, rolling across the sand. But the ball held. Izuku gasped for breath, controlling the ball shakily as Kirishima rushed again.
Izuku shot a burst of magnetic force at a buried pipe It ripped upward, aiming to knock Kirishima aside. Kirishima jumped over it.
Izuku hurled two balls at him. Kirishima swatted one aside with a hardened forearm, letting the second strike his stomach—absorbing it through sheer grit. He landed in front of Izuku.
Izuku tried to spring back using the defensive ball Kirishima grabbed him midair by the collar.
"Got you!"
Kirishima swung him downward. Izuku used his quirk to pull two metal sheets together, softening the impact.He hit the sheets hard but not painfully.
Izuku grinned. "Thanks for the opening." He snapped his fingers. The two metal sheets he had pulled together suddenly slammed together again right where Kirishima was standing. But Kirishima braced himself, hardening fully. Both sheets crashed against his hardened body and folded, unable to crush him. Dust and sand exploded outward.
Izuku's eyes widened. "He tanked it?!" Kirishima burst from the dust cloud. "MY TURN!" He slammed forward with a hardened shoulderIzuku blocked with the defensive ball, but the force still cracked the sand beneath him.
Izuku staggered. Kirishima didn't let up. A hardened uppercut caught Izuku under the ribs Izuku's breath left his lungs instantly. He tried to summon two balls for cover But Kirishima closed the distance, grabbed Izuku by the waist, and drove him backward into a pile of sand and scrap metal with a powerful tackle.
Izuku dropped to a knee, clutching his stomach. Kirishima raised a fist. "One more?" Izuku gasped for air, but tried to stand. Kirishima hardened his fist completely a thick stone-like texture forming over knuckles and forearm. Izuku pulled his defensive ball up But he was a second too slow.
Kirishima's punch landed squarely against the metal ball, which slammed into Izuku's chest with crushing force. Izuku flew backward, skidding across the sand until he stopped on his back, clutching his chest, breath gone, vision fuzzy.
The metal balls clattered around him, orbit broken.Kirishima panted heavily, hands on his knees, but stood upright. "…And that… is game," he said between breaths, giving Izuku a proud, tired grin.
Izuku coughed once, then laughed softly despite the pain. "You… win." Kirishima offered a hand. "You were awesome, dude." Izuku took it. "You were better."
From across the beach, All Might clapped loudly."Well done! That was a battle of heart, wits, and power!"
His smile shone proudly. "You both pushed your limits—and that is the essence of training!" Kirishima hauled Izuku to his feet. Both boys were bruised, sandy, and exhausted.
But smiling. Friends. Rivals. Future heroes.
Both collapsed, breathing heavily, sand and sweat covering them. Izuku looked up, grinning despite the sting. "You… you really are strong, Kirishima!"
Kirishima extended a hand to help him up, laughing. "You were incredible too, Izuku! That fight was so close… your style—using those spinning balls is insane! I had to push everything I had!"
All Might, observing silently from a distance, nodded approvingly. "Excellent work. Strategy, creativity, and adaptability… all of you are pushing your limits. That is exactly what training should be."
Izuku took Kirishima's hand and got to his feet, determination shining in his eyes. "Next time… I'll get you!" Kirishima laughed, punching his own palm. "I'll be ready for you!"
The sand lay scattered with debris, the remnants of their clash, but in that mess lay progress, growth, and the first taste of the friendly rivalry that would push both of them toward becoming heroes