28Disclaimer: Both Street Fighter and My Hero Academia belong to each of their respective franchises. I claim no ownership whatsoever.
After what must have been an unbelievable day for them, night had fallen over Gifu, the lights of its modern city smothering the stars above, unlike the bare countryside that was allowed to experience their wonder, leaving Toshinori to look longingly at the sky. He couldn't remember the last time he counted the stars. Maybe when he was a boy and his parents were still alive. Or when he was resting after a hard day of training with Nana or Gran Torino. Either way, it had been exhausting for him, forced to compromise after Gouki wouldn't allow him to leave, and even when he tried, the man just stared at him with that fatal look, as if he was daring him to try to get past.
Maybe he could have, if he had tried, but it would have meant destroying quite a bit of the area, and with two kids around, he just couldn't. So he found himself in the common room, sitting by the window in his formal shirt and trousers, his tie hanging loosely. Behind him was an awestruck Izuku who had been staring at him for most of their stay. Katsuki was in his room, far too preoccupied with his own affairs to have to deal with; in the boy's own words, a loser and a washout. The fact that those two words could be interchanged between him and Izuku made it all the more cutting.
He turned his head to look at the boy, who immediately perked up at the attention. It did feel a bit awkward, but nicer in comparison to the disgusted sneer Katsuki would give him ever since finding out the truth. "Are you feeling alright, Young-" He paused with a thought. Considering that they were fellow trainees now, it might not be that appropriate to remain formal. "-erm, Izuku?"
After what could have only been an uncomfortable moment for Toshinori, Izuku perked up again, only now processing what had been asked. "Huh? Uh, um, I-I'm f-fine, All Might."
Toshinori sighed. "You can call me by my name, Midoriya-kun. Or, if you feel like you're not ready to, Yagi-san will suffice."
Izuku, who was sitting on the tatami mat in his All Might t-shirt and shorts, nodded. "O-Okay, All Might."
"..."
"Uh, I-I mean, Togi-sa-no, I-I mean, Yashino-guh!" Izuku buried his face in his hands, lost in embarrassment over his fumbling. Toshinori could only smile, finding it a rather endearing quality, aside from his earnest attitude. He could tell that the boy was trying not to lose it completely in the presence of his hero, when some of his more rabid fans would have asked for an autograph every minute, if not every second. Maybe even a photo. Or two.
Okay, make that a full-body portrait, which he had indeed been asked to do in the past. Being admired was nice, but there comes a point in every public figure's life when it just starts to get awkward, if not exhaustingly inappropriate.
"It's alright, Midoriya-kun," Toshinori assured him. "But honestly, are you feeling alright?"
Izuku opened his mouth as if to answer in the affirmative, when it was in that exact instant that his mind crashed back down to the present reality.
He wasn't at home.
His parents weren't with him.
And he wasn't sure how long it would be until he got to be with them again.
He inhaled sharply, fighting back the urge to cry in front of his idol, but a few stray tears were already trickling out, his hands clenched tightly on his knees. Realizing his mistake, Toshinori slid over to comfort the boy. "Forgive me, Young Midoriya. I did not intend to cause you such distress."
Izuku shook his head, wiping at his eyes with his forearm before saying, "No, i-it's okay, All Might."
Toshinori's expression still furrowed guiltily. "You can still call your parents, correct?"
Reminded of that, Izuku's mood brightened slightly and he nodded. "I-I'll call them before I go to bed." Toshinori smiled before something else occurred to him.
"Speaking of, you haven't had dinner yet." He had been so absorbed in his mopi-contemplation that the thought of food didn't even enter his mind until now.
At the mention of food, Izuku felt a pang in his stomach. "M-Maybe Gouki-san will be the one to prepare the food?" He felt even sadder because this would be the first time in his young life that he would be without his mother's cooking.
Toshinori hummed to himself, sitting cross-legged with his arms folded across his scrawny chest. "Maybe. Or, we could just call for takeout."
"Forget the takeout," a voice called out to them, "dinner's ready, you losers."
Hearing this, both turned to the now open sliding door to find Katsuki standing with his hands on his hips. He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and brown cargo shorts. "Well? You two hungry or not?"
Izuku could only blink, thrown off by the boy's words. "K-Kacchan? Wh-What do you mean?"
Katsuki rolled his eyes with a groan, as if expecting such a question. "Just follow me and you'll see, Deku." Walking off, it took a few seconds for Toshinori and Izuku to trail after him in the direction of where they knew to be the dining area from the tour earlier. It was fairly simple in the minimalist sense, with a wide low table that was surrounded by cushions to sit on. Laid on top was a modest spread of grilled sweetfish and some tsukemono on the side. In the center was an ohitsu filled to the brim with steaming white rice.
"Who…" Toshinori began asking, his sunken eyes blinking rapidly at the prepared table complete with bowls, saucers and chopsticks. "Did Gouki prepare all this?"
Katsuki glared at the man, looking more than a little offended. "No, he didn't. I did."
Hearing this, Izuku gaped at the table and then at Katsuki. "You did all this, Kacchan?"
"Yeah," Katsuki replied with another roll of his eyes. "Do you really think I'm like you, Deku? That I don't know how to take care of myself? While you were busy being an idiot and drooling over your mom making you food, I paid attention to mine so that I could do it on my own."
Izuku could hardly believe it even when Katsuki explained it to him. That he already knew how to cook a complete meal without any help, in contrast to himself, who only went so far as to wash rice. The gap between them was simply that apparent. "Are you idiots going to keep staring, or am I gonna have to throw the rest out?"
Toshinori came to his senses. "Uh, n-no need, Bakugo-kun. And, it's never a good idea to waste perfectly good food." Katsuki glared at the man before admitting that he had a point. Good food, especially if it was cooked by him, shouldn't be thrown away on such a whim. "Midoriya-kun?"
Izuku was pulled out of his stupor, looked up at the older blonde and nodded. All three of them took their seats at the table, with Katsuki sitting on the opposite side from them.
"Hm?" Toshinori paused to cast his eyes searchingly. "Where is Gouki?"
"How should I know?" Katsuki replied in an annoyed tone. "I haven't seen him since we started unpacking. I figured I'd just help myself to the kitchen and put some food on the table until he shows up."
Toshinori hummed in thought. Could Gouki simply be preoccupied? After the shock of being left behind had passed, he dragged himself to the living quarters to indeed find his luggage and other essentials in the room in front of Izuku's. Instead of dwelling on his current situation, he decided to look at the positives, the possibilities. When he felt for his phone in his pocket, he was tempted to call either Mirai or Naomasa, but he knew that they had likely already blocked any contact with him, and he couldn't really call someone like Aizawa without having to go through everything that had happened for him to have reached this point.
He, Izuku and Katsuki took turns getting rice, and Toshinori couldn't help but inspect the finished product up close. The rice certainly looked like it had been cooked well enough, but he would have to reserve any criticism until he partook in it. Or not, as he did not want to make an even worse impression on the blonde, besides being just plain rude.
"Itadakimasu." They all signaled before digging in. After a few bites, Izuku's eyes widened at how well cooked the rice was. Soft and fluffy, it tasted even better with the fish and pickles, exclaiming through a mouthful, "This is delicious!"
Katsuki huffed at the praise. "Of course. It's not like I want to eat something that tastes like crap."
As they went about eating, Izuku glanced at Toshinori before turning his full attention to him, confused that he hadn't touched his food yet. "All-Y-Yagi-san, aren't you going to eat?"
Toshinori's attention was glued to the food in front of him for a moment before he turned to the boy and replied, "Uh, right." Clicking his chopsticks, he took a small morsel of rice into his mouth and chewed. He nodded and said in approval, "Hm. It's good." Plus, it had the ideal texture for him to soften up. As young as Katsuki was, being able to cook at such an age was commendable.
The rest of the meal proceeded in silence, with only the sounds of eating bouncing off the walls. Toshinori was taking small bites of everything, chewing it well to better digest.
Katsuki didn't fail to notice this, and he stopped in his meal to shoot a curious look at the man, asking, "Wait, I just remembered something. Didn't you say to my parents that you can't eat solid foods anymore?"
"Hm? Oh, you're right about that, Bakugo-kun, but not quite. To better understand, it's because of the damage my internal organs sustained after my fight with a very dangerous villain," Toshinori replied, putting down his bowl and chopsticks. "I had to undergo several surgeries, which included the removal of part of my lung and my entire stomach. I can still eat solid food from time to time, but when I do, I have to chew very well. It's the hard to digest kind that I have to avoid."
Both boys stared at the man, a more complete silence falling over the dinner table from that reveal. Izuku had been greatly saddened from learning of his hero's disability the first time, while Katsuki was only disappointed. In his mind, heroes were always supposed to win unscathed to fight another day. There was no room for losers in his book. "So? Who was it? Did you beat his ass?"
"Huh? Oh, h-him. He's..." Toshinori paused, wondering if he should be honest with the boys. He debated for only a moment before admitting: "I can't really tell you his identity, for he was a villain unlike any I've ever faced. But what I can tell you is that I managed to defeat him. I may have come out of that battle like this, but I made sure that I left him in a much worse state. He won't be cropping back up any time soon." I can only hope...
"Which means you didn't really win," Katsuki scoffed. "He's still out there, while you're stuck here."
"Young Bakugo," Toshinori began, not the least bit offended as he placed a hand to his chest. "There's more to heroism than just winning."
"Yeah?" Katsuki shot back. "Like what?"
"Helping people," Toshinori replied as if it was the simplest answer in existence. "The sole basis of heroism is to lend a helping hand to your fellow man. It's not just about stopping villains or saving the day. Every good deed, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, helps make the world a better place. Even I make time to help with what most would consider mundane tasks. Like carrying heavy bags, picking up trash, and of course, helping children and the elderly cross the street." He chuckled at that last part. "It's not really that complex. Even the smallest act of kindness can have the greatest impact."
Katsuki, a conflicted frown knitting his brows, opened his mouth to try and throw back a retort, before returning to his meal, ravenously tearing into his rice. Izuku was more inspired, taking to heart that being a hero wasn't just about the superficial things, but about helping others. "Ano, Yagi-san, if you can't eat solid food that much, what do you-" He was interrupted by the door sliding open, revealing it to be Gouki, which caused all of them to pause in what they were doing.
Silently, he cast his eyes over them before they landed on Toshinori, his red pupils and black sclera contrasting sharply with the blue pupils and black sclera of the other man. Both Izuku and Katsuki began to take note of these similarities, but the two men couldn't have been more different. The beastly man marched to the edge of the table and placed an insulated metal box on it. Sliding the hatch open, he took out a bowl with a cellophane cover and slid it over to Toshinori.
"...Soup?" Toshinori presumed, steam fogging the clear plastic. Did…Gouki actually go out and buy him this? "Uh, what…?"
"...Soup," Gouki answered in the simplest manner. Sweat-dropping, Toshinori proceeded to carefully peel away the plastic cover, and was hit with a very recognizable smell.
"This is..." He looked more closely at the contents of the bowl. "Cream soup." Thick white soup with vegetables and shredded pieces of meat. It wasn't a liquid food pack, which he always carried with him just in case, but it might be the next best thing. "Where did you get this?"
Gouki grunted. "Just eat."
Not wanting to be rude, Toshinori took the wooden spoon taped to the cellophane and dug in. He blew on it before carefully taking a sip: it was good. Better than any food pack any day and it was still warm. Gouki joined them as well, with Katsuki choosing to just focus back into his food. After the meal was over, both Katsuki and Izuku volunteered to wash the dishes, the blonde boy being thankful that they at least had running water and plumbing.
Toshinori was back at the dining table, having taken some beer out of his things, grateful to Naomasa since only he could have provided it. He wondered if Gouki would be up for a drink, but after musing on it briefly, the man didn't really seem to be the type. Nevertheless, he brought an extra can with him just in case. To his utter surprise, Gouki took the extra can without saying a word. He withheld the urge to propose a toast, knowing instinctively that the man had certain limits he shouldn't tread over. Both men drank in silence, with Toshinori simply basking in it until the man said, "Training will begin first thing in the morning. Be sure to be up by then."
Toshinori paused in his sip and had to jerk forward to keep from spilling some before he replied, "Uh, right. Um, if you don't mind me asking," he almost choked as the man let out a low growl, "but what exactly would the training entail?"
Gouki, with his usual scowl, replied with a vague "You'll see". He then took another sip of his beer, leaving Toshinori to guess. He wasn't sure what kind of training he would have to endure, as he had already experienced a rigorous regimen courtesy of his former trainers, as well as a plethora of experience from years of being a Pro Hero.
So it shouldn't be too bad, especially for the first day.
The next day…
Toshinori stirred as he felt an odd sensation worming its way from the top of his head. His eyes batted open, and his heart nearly stopped as his blue pupils met with red, causing him to have a minor panic attack.
Gouki, whose face was so close that Toshinori could feel the man's hot breath, said in a deceptively calm but throaty voice, "Get up."
Frozen with fear, the blonde broke the stare with an errant blink, and to his further horror, Gouki vanished without a trace, as if he had simply been an apparition that had haunted him in his nightmares. Sitting up from his futon, he glanced down at his alarm clock and it read 3:29 am.
Reeling from the terror that had washed over him, he decided not to keep the man waiting, fearing the worst. After gathering his thoughts and essentials for the morning ahead, he checked outside his room to see if the boys had woken up as well, only to see Katsuki passing by with a towel and toothbrush. He seemed to have mildly startled the boy, causing them to share a brief glance, but just as quickly, the young man tore himself away with the same disgusted sneer and continued on his way.
Toshinori then stopped at Izuku's room and, unsurprisingly, the boy was still fast asleep, snoring soundly in a disheveled heap, his blanket only halfway up to his waist. In the darkness of the room, a tablet could be made out next to Izuku's head, making it obvious that he had spent most of last night talking to his parents. "Young Midoriya," he called softly, nudging the boy's arm just as gently after shuffling up next to him, "Young Midoriya, wake up."
The young man soon stirred, moaning and mumbling something incoherent before he looked up to where Toshinori was kneeling over him. "It's time to wake up, Young Midoriya," the man said again. It took some time, but thankfully not too long for Izuku to rise out of his futon, numbly following along with the needed tasks to start the day despite how terribly drowsy he still was.
After washing up, a light breakfast was waiting for them at the table, courtesy again of Katsuki. When all three were finished, they went to the training area where Gouki was waiting for them. Both Izuku and Katsuki marched awkwardly across the yard, the gi uniforms they wore proving rather cumbersome from the weights sewn in, with the odd exception of Toshinori who, despite appearances, could easily do fifty times what they were trudging through. Either Gouki couldn't invest in the right equipment or he found it rather pointless. He was waging it to be the latter.
Once all three were in front of the man, he cast his gaze over each of them, bringing with it a heavy tsunami of tension that made their bodies go ice-cold. Reaching into his own gi, he produced two cleaning cloths and handed each of them to the boys. "Clean the house," he told them.
Hearing this and looking down at the cloth that was now in his hands in both surprise and disbelief, Katsuki shouted in outrage, "What?!"
Gouki, unphased, repeated, "Clean the house."
Katsuki practically threw the cloth to the ground, or at least he tried to, his arm locking up from the strain of cranking it back in his rage. "Argh!"
"Young Bakugo!" Toshinori quickly reached out his hand to the boy, and though the young man tried to fight off the contact, he gently grabbed where the limb hurt to apply some light pressure. "The gi you're wearing is weighing your body down, so you shouldn't make such sudden movements lest it places stress on your joints."
Katsuki jerked away from the man's grasp, and snapped, "Screw you!" He then settled with just disintegrating the cloth with his Quirk before he turned to face Gouki. "What kind of training is this? We didn't come here to be the help! We came here to become warriors! Heroes! Not be your servants!"
Gouki looked the boy dead in the eye and the longer he did so, the more the tension seemed to skyrocket, causing Katsuki to realize too late that he might have just made a mistake. "Strengthen your body, harden it. Then I may teach you." The next thing Katsuki felt was a sudden pressure around the crown of his head and his feet off the ground, causing him to flail uselessly as Gouki lifted him up to his level. "Do not be so presumptuous as to assume that you are ready. Only fools do that."
Katsuki was then dropped from the same height onto the hard ground, leaving a panicked Toshinori and Izuku to rush to the boy's aid. It had been so fast that the former had not been able to react. Even with his guard up, Gouki's speed was nothing to scoff at. It very much rivaled his own, but deep inside, there was a niggling feeling that the man was barely trying.
After being given some time to get his bearings; and a new cloth, a more compliant Katsuki went with Izuku to the house, ready to start on their 'training', leaving Toshinori alone with Gouki. There was a moment of awkward silence between the two men, and rubbing the back of his neck, Toshinori asked, "Uh, wh-what am I supposed to do?"
"Squat down," Gouki ordered.
"You... want me to do squats?" Toshinori asked with a raised eyebrow, having lost count of just how many squats he had done in the past.
"Squat. Down." Gouki repeated in a guttural growl, his patience having long waned.
Toshinori froze at the man's oppressive tone and obeyed, not wishing for a 'lecture' of his own. "Lower." He bent his body lower. "Lower." He did so again. "Stop. Hold. Spread your arms out." Again, the blonde obeyed, adjusting his body just enough to be stable. He waited for another order, but none came, which made Toshinori muse to himself if he was to assume this position for however many hours. That was until Gouki reappeared shortly, carrying a vessel in each hand. Getting an idea of what he was really intended to do, Toshinori held his position, his feet just far enough apart to keep his balance as Gouki placed a jar on each of his shoulders. They weren't that heavy for him, but he could tell from the weight that they weren't filled with normal sand. Indeed. Filled to the brim of each vessel was iron sand, which added a bit more than mere silicate.
To Toshinori's mounting surprise and disbelief, Gouki came back with two more, placing them on each of his bent knees. To his further alarm, two more were added to the very edge of his forearms, forcing him to add more strain to keep them aloft. "How…long…?" He gritted out.
"Until nightfall."
At that very moment, Toshinori wished more than anything that those words had simply been a trick of his ears, a delusion brought about by the shock. Watching Gouki walk away without another word caused him to despairingly concede, but with some optimism seeping in that his endurance might be more than enough to get him through this ordeal.
Hours later, when Gouki was satisfied, he called an end to the tortu-training. He checked on Toshinori first, his gi drenched in sweat, with veins popping all over his body from straining himself to the absolute limit. He was biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, using every ounce of energy and strength left to keep the jars from falling, only having had two close calls. The burn he was experiencing would have been unbearable for a lesser man, every muscle fiber, every joint and every single one of his bones screaming in absolute agony. Gouki slowly and methodically took his time to remove each and every jar, and once freed, the Number One Hero practically melted from his stiff confinement.
"You did not assume your muscle form," Gouki said in mild curiosity.
Toshinori replied through heavily labored breaths as he was lying flat on the ground, "I…only…do that…while…working…"
"...Good," Gouki said in satisfaction.
Izuku and Katsuki were the next to be found in the main training hall. They too were drenched in sweat and panting as if they had just run several marathons, flat on their backs and barely holding onto consciousness. They had barely finished the entire house, having only done the living room, the hallways, and the aforementioned training hall.
Some time later…
"To complete this part of your training," he told the boys after they were made to stand in front of him, with an equally exhausted Toshinori beside them as they could barely keep themselves upright, "you must do it again and again. Do not stop for anything. And I mean anything." He looked at each of the boys, who cowered under his scrutiny. The last time he'd checked on them, Katsuki was indeed pushing through the strain to keep up his work, but he couldn't help but slip in a few jabs at Izuku, tripping or knocking him down and letting his weighted uniform do the rest. He would not tolerate such distractions, promptly putting an end to such foolishness with the warning that they would not only be deprived of food and water, but would also be forced to endure the same kind of training as Toshinori. "You must always start at the same point. Until you can clean the entire house in a single day, only then we shall see to expanding your training."
The next day was more of the same, with Toshinori having to endure an extra large vessel being balanced on top of his head. Katsuki and Izuku, heeding the threat of Gouki's promise, went about cleaning the house at a more cooperative pace, and after being told to stop, they managed to reach the bathroom.
Not only the floors, but every inch had to be cleaned. This included walls, the ceiling, the furniture, and even the outside. All under the punishing weight of their uniforms, which made the entire deed even more hellish. They were only allowed rest to eat and drink, but any more would be met with swift punishment. If one screwed up, both would suffer, as Gouki did not play favorites. Katsuki had been a fool to assume such, the very notion beaten out of him by the grueling work.
A week passed, and Izuku couldn't stop crying for an end to the suffering.
Another week, and Katsuki very nearly called it quits, forced to repeat cleaning the floors after Izuku accidentally dropped the bucket full of dirty water.
Week three would see Toshinori having to balance anvils. Never mind how the man managed to even get his hands on such items, but his body was already being driven to the brink, having to endure for the better part of twelve hours while being at the mercy of the elements. The hot sun on his brow, the chilling rain, and Gouki's cold glare every time he was tempted to give up.
Day after agonizing day, and after the first few had passed, he was afforded some respite where he would eat from a liquid food pack for lunch, and a glass of water to stay hydrated, and even then, he was permitted a mere fifteen minutes, or ten if Gouki happened to be in a more 'generous' mood.
And just like that, he had been proven wrong. So wrong. Gran Torino might as well have been running a daycare compared to the anguish the three of them were being put through.
There was only one rule they were expected to follow, with the exception of Izuku.
No use of Quirks.
Katsuki was the only one to whom this rule truly applied, and he was reprimanded by Gouki every time for the wanton use of Explosion - mostly on Izuku. Strangely enough, the man never threatened to expel him, but simply increased his workload with heavier weights. Izuku's weights were also increased to keep their progress closely even.
As for the Satsui no Hadō, Gouki simply kept it at bay. At least until the actual training to control it would begin.
Week five would come, and with it…
"D...Done..." Katsuki puffed out a hoarse whisper after he finally finished wiping a corner for the tiniest bit of dirt. From top to bottom, every nook and cranny, they had done it. The whole house was finally clean, and had been done at such a repeated rate that it now seemed to glisten in the sunlight, not even close to late afternoon, the both of them having finished with plenty of time to spare. Izuku was right next to him, beaming with joy when he heard that they were done. He threw his cloth up in celebration, no longer feeling the punishing strain of the gi he wore, which was the same for Katsuki, who even found it in himself to smile at his rival's infectious happiness.
Toshinori took a deep breath, keeping his composure in spite of the added weight of more anvils piled on top of each other; numbering five each, determined to make it to the end. It was easier for him now, his concentration more relaxed. It helped greatly that Gouki would recently treat his soreness with hot tea baths and massages. His past rehabilitation had only ever been under one trusted person, Shuzenji Chiyo, aka Recovery Girl. He had the money to employ more specialized treatments, of course, and even artificial organs to replace what he lost. Medical technology had advanced independently enough from support items, and he had considered such a solution with the consultation of his inner circle, but he still would no longer be as he once was. Unfortunately, there was the risk of such replacements failing on him if he was to exert himself past a certain point, aside from the time/cost needed for their maintenance. As such, the implementation of them was written off as optional.
One would never guess that someone of Gouki's…countenance was even a masseuse, let alone a skilled one. When he asked out of curiosity, the man simply told him in no uncertain terms that he had gained an acute awareness of the human body and its pressure points through both traditional Ansatsuken knowledge and years of martial arts experience.
Toshinori wasn't so sure if he should ask such questions again after coming to know of such details.
Once the day was over, all three were standing strong in front of their master, who appeared satisfied through the glare he still sported.
"Keh," Katsuki scoffed with a smug grin on his face, "what now, old man? You got anything else for us? Maybe even polish those statues of yours as an extra service?"
Izuku nodded, a beaming smile of determination etched across his lips, feeling like he could take on anything with the confidence he was riding on.
Toshinori could only smile proudly at the boys as if they were his own students, but he was also proud of his own achievement, of his endurance and stamina that had grown from the training. He found it easier to move now, more relaxed than he had ever felt before. If he had been in his prime, he could only imagine how much of a difference it would have made had he undergone this kind of training. Maybe he wouldn't have suffered as much after his fateful battle with All For One, but he figured that was just wishful thinking. He had to focus on the present. Maybe there was a method to Gouki's madness after all, feeling ready for whatever else he might throw at them.
The demon in human skin only had one word for his students, which might just tip the scales for them.
"Fruit."
"..."
"..."
"...Fruit?" Toshinori found himself repeating in confusion, sharing odd looks with the boys at what might have sounded like a non-sequitur.
To answer their unsaid questions, Gouki motioned for them to follow him to the back gate, which he had Izuku and Katsuki open individually. Now that Toshinori knew that the gates had been modified to be heavier than before, the exact weight couldn't be determined, with Gouki choosing to stay quiet on that tidbit, but since he had opened it himself a few casual times, one panel each had to be at least two tons. In the previous weeks, Gouki had tested each of the boys if they could open it themselves. The first few tries were predictable failures, with poor Izuku memorably sobbing from the pain he was already feeling from the laborious cleaning.
"You can do it, Midoriya-kun," Toshinori encouraged. Having received such rousing words from his hero often had done wonders for Izuku's self-esteem and confidence, helping him to not lose hope in the face of such hardships. With a purposeful stride, the once timid shaggy-haired child began to push the gates open, almost losing his concentration when the loud creaking of the springs that would let the panels retract on their own assaulted his ears. He planted his feet firmly, not allowing himself to make the same mistake. The first time, a mere slip had been enough to nearly crush him, had not an alert Toshinori rushed in to pull him out.
Once Izuku finally passed through, the gate closed behind him. Backing away, he witnessed as the panels opened once more, revealing Katsuki determinedly pushing with all the strength he had accumulated after all their hard work. This was only the beginning. They would learn the fundamentals of fighting, and keep going strong no matter the challenge. Toshinori could only be impressed. In what amounted to a month, two young boys, not even eight years old, had become strong enough to contend with UA First Years. He could think of the reasons, the impossibility of it all, but he had witnessed it all quite clearly. It was almost miraculous. Or perhaps that was par for the course with a trainer such as Gouki, who did not seem to be one for compromises.
Once all three were outside, they traversed through a forest area, the wilderness of Gifu continuously untouched by modern development through strict conservation laws. Gouken had legally owned the land where the entire estate and dojo was built, and with Gouki having been bequeathed such lands, he was free to do with it as he damn well pleased, which included nothing short of-
"A…fruit garden?" Toshinori voiced out as he and the group arrived at a grove. Banana trees, durian trees, apples, oranges and grapes, strawberries, it was a vast orchard as far as their eyes could cover.
Toshinori was gaping in awe as he went near a banana tree. "How is this here? How long have you been growing this, Gouki?"
"It belonged to my brother," Gouki answered. Izuku and Katsuki went about the orchard in fascination, seeing all of the freshly grown fruits. Curious, and captivated by a bushel of strawberries, Izuku picked one out to try. He polished it on his gi first before biting into the tip.
"Mm!" He perked up from the taste, as he always loved strawberry flavored treats like ice cream, and this would be his first time eating the actual fruit.
Katsuki was more interested in the apple tree, easily scaling it with his gained strength when he would have had some trouble before. He plucked one out and bit into it with gusto, settling himself on a branch. His cheeks puckered from the sudden assault of the sharp sweetness, but he kept on chewing, enjoying himself.
"But," Toshinori began, "your brother passed away ages ago. Someone had to have been tending to it."
"There was," Gouki confirmed, walking up next to Toshinori. "An elderly man whose family was tasked by my brother. Once I came to claim it, they generously bequeathed it to me."
Toshinori could only imagine in dread how that exchange went, with Gouki coming upon the poor family like a devil out of thin air.
"They recognized me the moment I came to their door," Gouki refuted, having sensed Toshinori's worries without having to read his thoughts. "It would seem my brother had left them with ample warning."
Toshinori resisted the urge to laugh awkwardly from hearing that. "So," he began again, "are we going to pick some to eat?"
"To sell," Gouki corrected, drawing surprise from the others.
A few hours later, after filling two crates worth of fruit, Gouki, dressed in a white t-shirt under a black jacket and blue jeans, led his students to a truck by a shed that was adjacent to the stairwell that led up to the dojo. It was a classic pickup, used, with some scuff marks around the right front fender, the paintjob a faded blue. The cargo bed was filled with some random junk, but it otherwise looked like it could still run, which Gouki confirmed from testing the ignition.
Toshinori cupped his chin as he inspected the vehicle, figuring that Interpol could have only done some repairs, for there was no way that it had been sitting inside the visibly old shed for an extended amount of years without regular maintenance, the place littered with some old scrap and other things. Then again, Gouki must have simply bought it for dirt cheap. "Hey, uh," he started as he turned to Gouki, "are you driving?" The Number One Hero was in a simple black t-shirt and green cargo shorts. Black sandals adorned his feet.
Gouki didn't reply right away as he was glaring a hole into the old truck. Toshinori sweatdropped, already guessing what the man's answer was going to be.
"I can drive," Gouki then revealed, flashing out his license for good measure, which reminded Toshinori that Interpol had provided the man with nearly everything to pass as a private citizen. "You two."
The boys, dressed in their civvies, were each hauling a crate over their heads with little trouble. They both responded in unison, "Yes?"
"Clean out the cargo bed to make room," Gouki ordered. "I'll fill it with gas."
"Right," they dutifully obeyed, placing their respective crates down to the ground. After Toshinori opened the door, they each took turns taking out some rusted old rebar, some car parts, screws, bolts and a worn out rubber tire. They tossed the unwanted stuff aside, as Gouki was planning on scrapping most of it.
Once the group was set, Gouki started the truck and drove out of the shed, with some sudden braking that startled his passengers, the tires skidding loudly on the asphalt. The boys were seated by the cargo area, keeping watch over their contraband and to enjoy the fresh air outside of the dojo for the first time in weeks. Toshinori was on the passenger seat, looking out his window after cranking it open. He smiled, feeling appreciative as he slung his arm over the door, basking in the ride as the road ahead was ideally empty.
About half an hour went by when a bored Toshinori initiated some small talk. "Since when do you sell fruit?" It was an impulsive thing to ask, but he was far too relaxed to care for the consequences.
"...Whenever I needed money," Gouki answered, eyes glued to the road. "I would also sell other raw materials like animal hides."
Toshinori blinked, then gave the other man a sidelong glance. "Oh, right. You…used to wander around." He almost went with something less tactful, and dreading what unspeakable tortures awaited him had he said such. "What for? Travel expenses? Food?"
"A little bit of both," Gouki admitted. "There were circumstances where my options were scarce. Other times, I needed specific things that I could not simply scrounge."
Toshinori wiggled the fingers that he was hanging outside. "Were you…always alone on your travels?"
"The path I chose was a solitary one," Gouki stated bluntly. "If I ever needed company, I merely sought out strong opponents."
Toshinori winced. "So, uh, it's been kinda eating at me at times since, but how…exactly did you get stuck in ice?"
"I got stuck in ice," Gouki answered with the same bluntness.
Toshinori stared blankly at the man. "...Okay."
Another half hour passed before they entered a town, driving past some buildings until they stopped by a fruit shop. Toshinori spotted a lanky man dressed in a navy blue shirt with a haramaki wrapped around the waist, alongside faded and tattered jeans. His skin was tan, his hair in a buzz cut style, the strands graying. He had a friendly smile on, but what made his appearance somewhat distinct was that his eyes were catlike, indicating a mutation Quirk that allowed him nightvision.
"Good day," the man greeted, only to back away a step as soon as a tall man got out of the driver seat, his keen eyesight taking in the man's intimidating presence. His smile turned nervous, but eased a little when a much more amiable Toshinori was the one to greet him first.
Gouki, ignoring their exchange, turned to the boys and ordered them to leap over the walls of the cargo bed with the crates on-hand. Izuku looked unsure, while Katsuki obeyed with little hesitation, his crate barely weighing half of what he had become used to. With a jump that made the truck buckle, he landed near perfectly on solid ground before approaching the shop to deposit his share. Izuku, seeing this, gathered his courage and took the plunge, landing with but a few clumsy steps forward.
A vigilant Toshinori witnessed this with a nervous biting of his lip, prepared to move and catch either of the boys, but their success eased his worries. With that, he turned to the owner to properly introduce himself. "Hello, I'm Toshinori."
"Uh, Ogata," the bewildered man introduced himself in turn as he and Toshinori shook hands. "I received a call from someone named Gouki offering to sell me some fruit. I'm guessing that's not you?"
Toshinori shook his head with an almost apologetic smile. "Afraid not." He jerked a thumb to where the actual Gouki was sauntering near. Ogata cleared his throat and put back on a friendly smile, figuring that the man's appearance was merely due to a Quirk.
"If your product's fresh, I might consider," he declared, going over the crates for inspection of the fruit. He checked each and every one, even sampling some. "Everything seems good. You have any pineapples, perhaps?"
"Pineapples?" Toshinori thought. A tropical fruit, Japan did grow pineapples domestically, but certainly not on the scale of countries like in Southeast Asia. That wasn't to say that Japan didn't have a strong export of the fruit.
"I might be able to grow some," Gouki mused. After the weighing, Ogata paid what he owed: 40000 yen.
"That's it?" Katsuki commented after seeing the amount.
"That's it," Toshinori repeated in confirmation as they were about to board back into the truck, when a loud cry drew their attention.
"The demon! The demon's struck again!"
"Demon?" Izuku repeated in curiosity, trading a look with Katsuki, the two of them getting to their feet on the cargo bed to gain a better look down the nearby street. Toshinori craned his neck to look past the hood of the truck to find a crowd gathering, with an ambulance in the distance steadily racing near.
"Another attack…" The group heard Ogata say as he walked out of his shop to see the commotion.
"An attack?" Toshinori echoed questioningly.
"The Oniguma," Ogata replied ominously. "It's been terrorizing hunters and campers for the past few months now. It's even been spotted near town sometimes, but it mostly lurks around the deep woods. That's the second victim this week alone."
A gap in the crowd formed, allowing Toshinori to catch a makeshift stretcher where a man was being carried by two others, caked in what he could safely assume was his own blood, and morbidly, half of his face mutilated. The pair that was hauling the stretcher were hardly any better themselves, looking like they had just been through a fight for their very lives.
"Has there been involvement from law enforcement?" Toshinori questioned.
"There was," Ogata answered regrettably. "A pair of them went in to investigate with a handful of experienced hunters. All that was found of them were their bloodied remains."
Toshinori paled. "What about a hero?"
Ogata's brows crinkled, his catlike eyes forming slits. "We reached out to the city for one of the local heroes, but they declined, saying they were stretched thin. That had been over two months ago."
The Number One Hero frowned in curiosity and suspicion. There should have been a hero to respond to what was clearly becoming a crisis.
Gouki did not deign to comment. Instead, he signaled for the group to depart, as it was getting dark soon. They drove the rest of the way in silence, ruminating on what they learned. Toshinori was nuzzling his chin in thought, debating on whether to make a trip to the city to see what the reason was that the town was being snubbed of a hero to resolve the issue, or if he should be the one to investigate. The problem was if he would even be permitted to by Gouki.
"You should prepare."
Toshinori was brought out of thoughts, turning to Gouki. "Huh?"
"For the next phase of our training," Gouki began. "We'll be going camping."