Chapter 3: Form and Technique
'For every lost battle, there is only one reason behind it: a lack of sufficient knowledge. Know your enemy. Know his strengths, be it tactical awareness or a powerful Quirk. Know his weaknesses, be it a fear of spiders or a lack of skill. The enemy you know is an enemy whose powers are easier to counter. Overwhelming strength overpowers skill in every engagement but overwhelming knowledge and appropriate use of that knowledge defeat even raw skill and strength.'
—Excerpt from the recovered 'Tenets of Combat' likely authored by an underground hero or vigilante
Izuku dreads every second of the next morning from the moment he awakes from his slumber, disturbed by nightmarish visions of creatures that defy mortal laws of biology. As he showers, he sees eyes that gazed past infinity, found the outer edges of existence pitiful, and returned to indifference. They follow him as he scrubs raw his skin long past the memory of gamma radiation streaking by in never-ending fractal patterns, their lines forming geodesic routes to the primordial origin of entropy where the arrow of time first formed and forced an incalculable point of mass-energy to expand outwardly in an inevitable death march of the final heat death of all that existed.
He changes and eats with the memory of corpses still moving, their bloated masses perverting the cycle of life and birth to bring forth a dead creature from a long-dead organism. Izuku doesn't want to think of how that calf could have survived—not live, never live—through such a creation. There would have been no nutrients to feed on. Unless it had fed on the rotting form of its progenitor as a carrion eater. But then, what sort of creature would come back from death to sing to its child likely long dead as well?
No, that makes it too sympathetic. It is a horror that should never under any circumstances be exposed to the world he lives in.
How different, am I? Izuku wonders. I died and returned. Does the fact that my body isn't rotting enough to make me any less a monster?
The thought stills him in the process of tying the last knot in his laces. Only monsters came back from the dead. He stands slowly and forced back the tears because anything would be better than this power.
I can't be a zombie, Izuku thinks, because I still have a heartbeat. Definitely not a vampire or anything like that. He removed his phone and typed a quick query. The first result is enough.
Revenant.
A ghost or corpse brought from the dead to haunt the living. How far removed is Izuku from that? Types of ghosts can be corporeal. And maybe his corpse came back perfectly but it didn't change that it had been a corpse twice in a single weekend. Once when the fridge had crushed him. The other when his head had cracked open.
Kacchan, he thinks suddenly, and wonders why. Not important right now.
Izuku sighs, trying to shake the thoughts away. It doesn't matter. So long as he didn't die again it could all be a hallucination brought on by overwork. There was no proof of it other than his memories of impossible creatures and the song thatwilldevourallmortalsoulsinworship, and those could be passed off as part of it.
You know it's real, a part of Izuku whispers. He ignores that voice.
His muscles are still strained. With time, he will be able to continue his exercises in the morning but until then All Might had encouraged he not wake up early to train.
Izuku takes the train to school. The repetitive clack-clack of the train tracks and the absolute mundanity of salarymen glued to their phones, delinquents with neon hair and more piercings than skin, and the occasional laughs from the two ladies across from him help lull him into a light sleep. It is simple, then, to let his mind numb even after he has disembarked from the train and joined his classmates.
He doesn't glance in Kacchan's direction, afraid that it would be the spark that sets off the wildfire. Even years after they fell out he can tell what mood Kacchan is in based on the type of anger in his voice as he shouts one of his lackeys into submission: the quick and intense explosion was usually amusement or mild irritation; that long drawn out inferno being genuine anger when someone spilt a glass of water on Kacchan's shoes. There, those bright embers are calm—or what passes for calm—thoughts or distraction by a relatively simple task the teacher had set: analysing the impact on poverty from the heroics industry. The streak of passion like a comet in the night's sky is a genuine shock. But the agitated sea of viscous magma has Izuku rushing to pack his items in his bag.
Because the last time he saw that rage-hate-envy mix, he discovered his Quirk.
He ducks his head low and leaves with the flow of students, joining the sea of bodies in the hallway outside. He sticks closer to the groups of girls. Less chance of Kacchan starting something with that group.
Kacchan's anger is almost physical in its intensity. Izuku flinches every time he feels those molten pits land on his back. Only once he has left the school and is back on the train did he let his heart rate drop from pounding to merely erratic.
At home, Izuku changes into his running gear and decides that, yes, he needed a new pair of running shoes. He eats an apple and mixes a protein shake before heading out.
All Might waits for him on the road overlooking the beach. Izuku focuses on his thin teacher, not letting his eyes roam to where he knows there should have been beached whales. He rakes his eyes over the scooter All Might leans against.
"Good afternoon, my boy," All Might greets and stands. He cracks his back in one fluid pop that left Izuku wincing. "How was school?"
It floors Izuku, as it always does, that All Might genuinely cares. Even his mother asked more out of perfunctory greeting than genuine interest more often than not. She cared when he came home bruised and bleeding, yes, but unless his life was in danger she wasn't too interested in how he spent his afternoons.
So Izuku opens up to the only adult who cares. "It was a bit boring for most of the day." A technical truth because Kacchan is always angry, and only sometimes furious. "But our history teacher had us discussing the impact of heroics on the cycle of poverty."
"Oh," All Might says, leaning forward slightly. "And did your teacher use Saruhiko Ando or Dylan Salvatore as resource material?"
Izuku knows on a purely rational level that All Might is smart. He had figured out the weakness of the Sludge Villain in seconds whilst Izuku had faltered. And yet he still found it difficult to reconcile the Symbol of Justice with this quiet, brilliant and frail man.
"Both, actually, though I'm not certain if I like Salvatore's stance. He just seems so dejected with the world? He expects perfection from heroes and argues their very presence invites challenges to their strength in the form of villains."
"Salvatore did commit suicide a few years later," All Might says as he mounted his scooter. "Now, time to get to work."
Izuku runs at the pace All Might sets, letting the repetition of step-breath-step distract him. It isn't a hard run by any stretch, not when All Might set the pace at one Izuku could follow easily. Eventually, though, the burning in his legs catches up to him.
"How do," Izuku says between breaths, "other heroes fight?"
It is a stupid question, Izuku knew, but he still needs to breathe. "What do you mean?" All Might asks, not slowing down.
"You and Endeavour have"—He pauses to take a deep breath and sprint up the incline—"combat Quirks. But what about heroes without them?"
All Might doesn't respond until they are at the bottom of the small hill and pulls over to the side. He motions to the grass. Izuku sighs but lowers himself and performs press-ups. All Might, he has learnt, might entertain his questions but not to the detriment of his training.
"What you're doing now." Izuku cranes his neck up to see All Might. "Training. UA will teach you the fundamentals but the agency you join will help you specialise further."
"Still," Izuku says going down, "being able to summon snakes that extend twenty metres is great but guns are effective further."
"True, my boy, but no trained hero would let a gunman get a line of sight on them. We all go through simulations to deal with those scenarios. And even then, we train our abilities to discover applications we were unaware of."
"And you went through the same?"
All Might chuckles deeply. "I was not born skilled, Izuku. I studied for years as a boxer even after receiving One For All."
"Wouldn't it make sense for me to learn how to fight as well? If I know how to throw a punch now, won't it be better than trying to learn alongside figuring out One For All?"
"You," All Might trails off. "You make a valid point. Come, let us finish this run before you go home."
Izuku stands. Rolls his shoulders. Shakes out his legs and runs.
TDB
TDB
He wakes up in the dark, blinking in confusion. Looking to the side, he sees that the alarm has yet to ring. Only by a few minutes, yes, but still odd. He shrugs. That just meant a few more minutes in the shower.
Making sure not to wake his mother, he walks to the bathroom and checks his wound. It is healing nicely though it will scar. He cleans it, wincing with every prod before taking a shower.
School is school, no more interesting than average but somehow more stressful. Kaachan doesn't glance at Izuku but that disinterest is almost worse than his anger. Almost. It leaves him tense, nervous the same way a mouse would be under a hawk's gaze. Because Kaachan isn't ever quiet. So maybe Izuku does run out the moment the last bell rang but no one is watching to call him out on it.
He's at the beach early as usual and It is not empty. It takes him a moment to notice the man crouched on a precarious stack of appliances and dozing from what he can tell. The man's dark hair is one step away from impossible and that black jacket open at the front is completely impractical but Izuku would be lying if he thought the tiger skin wrap around his waist is anything less than cool.
Izuku isn't sure what to say to the man. He's dozing if the loud snores are any indication, and Izuku doesn't want to startle him and be responsible for the man falling.
So, he just stands there, awkwardly, nervously, until All Might comes looking like a hero and not a gaunt, sickly man. "Midoriya, my boy," the man greeted and then looked up to the strange man. "I see you've met Jin Mo-Ri."
The man yawns and stands, revealing his bare midriff and Izuku wonders if abs like that were possible for humans. "He's just been staring at me for the last few minutes," Jin Mo-Ri says. "Good instinct trying not to startle me."
Jin Mo-Ri flips and lands gracefully. He's not particularly tall, if anything you might consider him short. But his eyes are what truly set him apart because Izuku has never seen anyone with eyes that practically glow red or have a bright cross where the pupil should be. He doesn't bother wondering how the man deals with changes in light intensity because those eyes clearly work on the power of bullshit.
"Hi," Izuku says warily, looking to All Might for guidance. The man simply nods. "My name's Izuku."
The man considers Izuku for a moment and nods. "I will teach you to fight for Yagi cannot," he says simply.
Izuku frowns. "Who's Yagi?" he asks.
All Might splutters but the man simply stares at him in what might be shock or annoyance. "Ask your teacher later. For now, I want you to punch me. Don't look shocked and just do it."
Izuku glances to All Might once more. Sees his hero nod. Throws a punch.
His fist stops in the palm of Jin's hand, not budging an inch. His wrist hurts from the sudden stop. "Other hand this time." He does so.
"Again." Punch. "Again." Punch. "Again." Punch. "Again." Punch. "Again." Punch.
The man falls silent and steps back, looking to All Might. "How long have you been training him?"
"Two weeks now."
"And you've failed to teach him how to throw a straight punch," he accuses harshly. All Might winces. "Your teaching skills haven't improved."
Izuku has never seen his hero wilt like that, not against villains or vicious journalists and he's not certain which group is crueller.
Jin turns back to face Izuku. "You will kick now." He does so nearly a dozen times before Jin is satisfied. Izuku breathes deeply, trying not to look weak before this man who All Might so obviously respects.
"Your form is atrocious in different ways. Good. It means you've never taught yourself bad habits. I will not teach you to box as I taught All Might. Instead, I shall teach you Renewal Taekwondo." He crouches and like this Izuku is looking down on him as he smiles. "I designed it specifically for people with strengthening Quirks or those whose quirks increase over time, like All For One."
Izuku stills at how casually the man says Izuku's greatest secret. He looks to All Might who says, "Later."
Jin Mo-Ri snorts. "I see he's told you nothing about me. No matter. I was once called Jaecheondaesong but I very much doubt that name will mean anything to you. Two days a week I teach you form and technique, and All Might shall make you strong. Now, prepare yourself."
The training is harsh, harsher than anything All Mighty had put him through. Jin Mo-Ri is not a complicated man and hardly expects perfection on Izuku's first try or even his hundredth. He simply asks that Izuku try and he isn't about to fail at that. He never truly knew how to throw a punch before so Jin Mo-Ri shows him a straight punch and forces him to practice until the muscles in his arms cramp. And then he shows him two basic stances and forces him to flow between each until his legs quiver and he simply wants to pass out and die.
He survives and lies on the ground, breathing harshly long after Jin Mo-Ri has said his goodbyes and left All Might a warning to put more effort into teaching and less in heroics.
All Might hands him a bottle of water and Izuku takes it gratefully. He very almost gives up halfway to his lips.
"Yagi," All Might says, "that's me." Izuku quirks a brow. "My name. Toshinori Yagi. I forget sometimes that All Might isn't my name. I'm sorry for not telling you."
Izuku shrugs. "It's fine? I mean, I never asked so you can't really be held responsible for that."
"Giving one's name is only polite."
"And you gave me your secret. I think that counts for more." Izuku sits up. "Who was that?"
"Jin Mo-Ri," All Might says as if that's all the answer needed. "He taught me and many other heroes throughout the decades."
Izuku blinks. "He barely looks older than twenty and that's a stretch," he says quickly. "What quirk keeps you alive that long?"
"Not many," All Might says sombrely, looking away for a moment. "Jaecheondaesong was one of the first heroes, young Midoriya, though he's taken great pains to be forgotten in the modern age. He along with the Six freed Korea in what is known as the War Against Heaven."
"I've never heard of that battle," he says, "or the Six."
All Might huffs. "They might as well be folktales now. Ultimately, none of this matters. Jin Mo-Ri will teach you and that is all you need to know."
Izuku doesn't like that answer. But he is also doesn't press the issue any further.
He heads home and finds his mother almost done with dinner. Izuku greets her, smiling, and is up the stairs before she can reply. He sees tired eyes in the mirror as he cleans the wound. The shower helps to relieve some of the stress of the day and soothes the tiniest bit of pain.
Dinner is a quiet affair with Izuku too tired to initiate conversation. He knows his mother wants to say something, maybe a reminder to throw out the trash tomorrow. The plate is a few bites to being empty before she says anything.
"You always come home tired," his mother says simply.
He considers how much of the truth to tell his mother. "I'm just training to get into UA," he says because that isn't a lie. Perhaps not the whole truth but more than enough.
She smiles sadly. "Izuku, you know I'm proud of you no matter what you do."
"Except you don't think I can get into UA." Izuku stands and takes his plate. "Thanks for dinner, kaa-san."
"I didn't mean it like that," his mother says as he's placing the plat in the sink. "I just want to see you happy."
Izuku's smile is just as sad. "Then have a bit of faith in me."
It might be cruel to leave it at that but Izuku is in his bedroom long before his mother replies. He leaves a single lamp on and crawls into bed, covering his face with a pillow. He refuses to cry, absolutely refuses to act like a child. So no, those aren't tears staining his pillow.
He loses track of how long he's like that but eventually, his chest stops hurting and his eyes stop burning. It becomes easier to simply lose track of time and let his mind still. It is peaceful just to let his mind explore outward, expanding further and further. He passively follows the arcs of shadows and their gradients.
Izuku feels like he is sinking and that forces him awake. He sees something dark writhing on his bed and rolls off quickly, putting as much distance from what looks like tar boiling on his bed. Instinct makes him dash to the light switch and flick it on.
Brightness floods the room, batting away the shadows. They dissipate like mist and to Izuku it feels like they're dying and screaming all the while. His heart beats like a jackhammer until those shadows are gone and only the regular ones remain.
Izuku does not sleep well.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone