Kenji's alarm buzzed, cutting through the quiet of his small apartment. He groaned, fumbling for the snooze button, but caught himself mid-reach, letting his hand fall back to his side.
He'd set that alarm for a reason, and if he'd learned anything from all those training montages he'd watched, hitting snooze wasn't part of the routine.
He rubbed his eyes, blinking against the early light filtering through the window, a soft gray hue barely starting to brighten.
With a heavy sigh, he sat up, feeling the soreness from yesterday's workout settle into his shoulders and back, a reminder of the unfamiliar strain he'd been putting his body through.
Muscles he didn't know he had ached, every movement a reminder of how far he had to go.
But this was part of it. All of it, he reminded himself, swinging his legs off the bed and forcing himself upright.
The floor was cold under his feet as he shuffled into the small kitchenette, grabbing a glass and filling it from the tap.
He drank in slow sips, letting the chill of the water wake him up fully. 'Nothing beats a cold glass of water when you wake up'
Outside, Nagazora was still and quiet, the streets empty, just the faintest glow from streetlights casting long shadows.
Most people weren't even thinking about waking up at this hour. But I'm not "most people" anymore, he thought, a flicker of determination settling over him.
Not with this power. Not with what he'd seen, and what he now felt responsible for.
He set down the glass, stretched his arms over his head, feeling the stiffness crack and loosen. "Alright, Kenji," he muttered, forcing a small grin, though it felt strange in the stillness of the morning. "You're up. Might as well make it worth it."
He slipped on a pair of worn sneakers and stepped outside, the cold air immediately biting at his skin. His breath came out in puffs of white, and he could feel the lingering fog of sleep clinging to him as he took his first steps toward the park a few blocks away.
He walked in silence, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes on the path ahead. This early, the world felt like it belonged to him alone, a private stretch of time before everything else would kick in.
When he reached the park, he took a deep breath, savoring the smell of damp earth and cold grass, sharp and grounding.
This spot was quiet, a small corner near a set of old trees, their bare branches stretching up like skeletal hands against the pale dawn sky.
He'd scouted the area yesterday, searching for a place where he could start his training without drawing too much attention.
This corner would work well enough for now, shielded by bushes, tucked away from prying eyes.
With another deep breath, he dropped down to the ground, starting with simple push-ups.
The soreness from yesterday's work made each movement feel like lifting a weight far beyond his usual limit, but he gritted his teeth and kept going, settling into a rhythm.
"One… two… three…" He counted aloud, voice barely above a whisper. By the time he reached 15, his arms were already shaking.
A reminder that even though he could punch through concrete, his body itself wasn't anywhere near where it needed to be.
'Though that raises another question. HOW am I able to use OFA if I'm not nearly as physically fit as Deku was?'
Just another question that he doesn't have the answers to.
He dropped to his knees, catching his breath, his arms burning with every heartbeat.
For a moment, the temptation to call it a day was there, gnawing at the edges of his mind. He could just go back, hit the snooze button a few more times, give himself a break.
But no. Not today.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, even though the cold had barely lifted. "Just a little more," he told himself, dropping back down, settling in for another round of push-ups, then crunches, then squats.
The burn in his muscles grew, intensifying with each set, until his body felt like it was weighed down by lead.
After what felt like an eternity, he sat back on his heels, breathing hard. The sky was starting to turn a softer shade of blue, the first rays of sunlight just beginning to edge over the buildings in the distance.
He couldn't help but feel a strange satisfaction as he watched the city wake up around him.
His muscles ached, his hands were scraped from gripping the rough ground, and he was exhausted before the day had even started.
But he was here. He'd done it.
Forcing himself to his feet, he walked over to an old tree, its bark gnarled and thick. He pressed his palm against it, closing his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his energy, that warm, electric pulse beneath his skin.
It flickered to life, faint but present, and he let it flow down his arm, feeling the power surge just enough to give him that extra edge. He kept his focus steady, muttering to himself, "Control… just a little."
With his fist raised, he aimed for the tree, tapping it with as much restraint as he could manage. His fist connected with a dull thud, sending a small tremor through the bark but leaving it mostly untouched.
He pulled back, eyeing the small dent he'd left, a faint imprint where the bark had cracked just slightly.
"Better," he whispered, his voice tinged with satisfaction. It wasn't much, but it was progress. His breath was still uneven, his heart pounding in his chest, but he'd done it.
Glancing around, he noticed the first few joggers passing by in the distance. He straightened up, giving his arms one last stretch, feeling the satisfaction of a morning well spent settle over him.
His body protested with every movement, but he knew this was just the start. The ache in his muscles, the exhaustion in his limbs—it was all part of building a foundation, the kind of strength he'd need to wield OFA effectively.
He took one last look at the small dent in the tree, a tiny reminder that he was making progress, however slow.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned back toward the path, his thoughts already moving to the rest of the day ahead.
---
By the time Kenji reached the Blue Dragon Couriers' small, cluttered office, the soreness in his arms had faded to a low throb.
The smell of coffee and stale cardboard greeted him as he pushed through the door, nodding a quick greeting to his co-workers. Most of them were still blinking away the last remnants of sleep.
He grabbed his delivery list and scanned it, noting a few familiar addresses on the route. With a shrug, he slung a faded messenger bag over his shoulder, hefting the first stack of packages into his hands.
For anyone else, they'd have been heavy—three overstuffed boxes stacked one on top of the other. But Kenji barely felt the weight, his power humming faintly under the surface.
Alright, small test, he thought, adjusting his grip. If he could control the energy just enough to give him a boost to lift the boxes without straining, it'd be one step closer to mastering that delicate control he was aiming for.
As he made his way out the door, he kept his focus on his hands, trying to measure his grip and keep the boxes stable without relying on raw strength alone.
It was like balancing on a tightrope. Too much energy, and he'd risk crushing the boxes; too little, and he'd be handling them like anyone else.
"Morning, Kenji," one of his co-workers called out as he passed, pulling him out of his concentration.
Kenji gave a quick nod, mumbling a "morning" back before continuing down the sidewalk. He forced himself to relax, easing the energy just enough to keep from snapping his fingers through the cardboard edges.
His steps fell into a rhythm, and a small, satisfied grin crept onto his face as he made his way through the quiet streets.
The first delivery was to an apartment complex about three blocks down. He arrived at the door, knocking lightly.
An older woman with frizzy gray hair opened it, squinting up at him before her face broke into a broad smile.
"Ah, Kenji! Always nice to see you, dear. Do you have my order?" she asked, her voice warm but a little shaky.
"Morning, Mrs. Nishida," he replied, managing to balance the packages on one arm while handing her a smaller, lighter box from the top.
Light touch, he reminded himself, and to his relief, the box slid off his hand without incident.
"Oh, thank you, dear," she said, clutching the package to her chest. "Always a help, you young ones. Thank you."
He smiled, nodding politely as she disappeared back into her apartment. As he walked back to his bike, he felt a spark of accomplishment, a small, but meaningful sign that his control was growing, little by little.
At his next delivery stop, he hoisted an especially bulky box out of his bag and held it for a second, gauging its weight.
This time, he wanted to see if he could keep his power limited to just one hand—if he could channel enough strength to lift it without his whole arm feeling like it was vibrating with energy.
"Alright… easy now," he muttered to himself, gripping the box firmly, willing his power to stay in check. His fingers tightened around the cardboard edges, and he lifted it just off the ground, careful to keep the box steady.
It held. For a moment, he almost wanted to laugh—this small success felt monumental.
But just then, his concentration slipped, and he felt the power surge unexpectedly. His fingers pressed too hard, a loud tear ripping through the box as one side gave way. The contents—a set of neatly wrapped books—tumbled to the ground, scattering over the sidewalk.
"Damn it," he muttered, dropping to his knees, quickly gathering up the books before anyone could notice.
His fingers moved fast, almost instinctively, a faint warmth prickling at the back of his mind— danger sense.
He managed to grab the last book just before a passing car splashed a puddle nearby, narrowly avoiding disaster.
'Ok? Didn't know danger sense could do that'
As he stuffed the books back into the torn box, he felt frustration bubble up, gnawing at his focus. Why can't I just get this right?
He clenched his fists. He'd thought he was getting better, but in an instant, one slip had reminded him of just how far he had to go.
He took a deep breath, letting the frustration simmer down as he taped the box shut as best as he could. "One step at a time," he whispered, as much to himself as to anyone else.
He took a second, glancing down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. Alright, lesson learned. Be patient. Control takes time.
As he got back on his bike, he tried to focus on the small successes rather than the setbacks.
Every delivery was a chance to practice in more unconventional ways how to control his power, he will get there, someday.
When he stopped for a quick lunch at a convenience store, he grabbed a protein bar and a bottle of water, plopping down on a curb outside.
The city pulsed around him, people hurrying by, and he let himself breathe, taking in the energy of the world around him.
He looked down at the bar in his hand, unwrapping it slowly, thinking about what he'd managed so far today.
It wasn't much, but even those small adjustments meant something. Each little improvement, each tiny success, was a step closer to understanding who he could become.
As he finished the protein bar, he checked his list and set out to finish the last deliveries of the day, already planning his next training goal: speed.
Maybe if I can just get faster reactions, he thought, it'll all start falling into place.
---
Kenji's shift ended just after noon, and his stomach was already grumbling by the time he reached the grocery store near his apartment.
The automatic doors slid open, letting out a burst of cold air that prickled his skin as he grabbed a basket, his mind already on what he needed for the week.
He scanned the produce aisle, eyes drifting over rows of fruits and vegetables. His usual trips here were quick and predictable—ramen packs, instant rice, maybe a couple of canned meals for good measure.
But today was different. He'd done a bit of research, scrolling through tips on building strength and stamina, and he knew he'd need a better diet if he wanted to get serious.
He picked up a pack of bananas, tossing them into the basket. Bananas were a safe choice; he could eat them on the go, and they'd keep him energized.
Then he wandered toward the greens, pausing with a frown. Spinach, broccoli, kale… it all looked a little too healthy for his usual tastes, but he remembered reading about the importance of vitamins and minerals. He grabbed a bunch of spinach, tossing it in with a resigned sigh.
"This had better work," he muttered under his breath, catching sight of the price tag.
Next, he wandered into the protein section, skimming over cuts of chicken and beef. He picked up a small pack of chicken breasts, feeling the pinch in his wallet already.
Meat wasn't cheap, but if he could stretch it across a few meals, it'd be worth it. His fingers lingered over a larger pack, but he set it back, grabbing a smaller one.
Better pace myself. No point in going all out if I end up broke before the month's over.
He moved on to the grains, picking up a bag of brown rice and some oatmeal. His stomach grumbled as he imagined the meals ahead, simple and plain, but he pushed down the thought. "Fuel, not flavor, I also can't cook well. Yay" he reminded himself, half-laughing at how stupid he sounded.
If anyone saw him right now, they'd probably think he was gearing up for a marathon instead of… whatever this was.
As he made his way through the aisles, he couldn't help but glance at the instant ramen section, his old reliable.
He picked up a pack, feeling a tug of nostalgia, but the words of his research echoed in his mind: empty carbs, low protein. With a small sigh, he set it back down. "Alright, alright… focus."
After grabbing a couple of protein bars from a nearby shelf, he moved toward the checkout. The cashier scanned his items, the total climbing higher than he'd hoped, and he handed over his cash with a pang of regret.
He'd have to be careful with his spending, maybe cut back on takeout and extra expenses. He almost laughed at himself—he wasn't just training his body; he was retraining his entire life, one grocery bill at a time.
He stepped outside, balancing the bags carefully, feeling a small surge of pride. It wasn't much—just some spinach, chicken, and a few other basics, but it was a step in the right direction.
These small changes felt like pieces of a larger puzzle, each one necessary to build the strength he wanted, the control he was aiming for.
On the walk back to his apartment, he went over his list mentally, planning out how to make these groceries last the week.
Rice with chicken, spinach smoothies… maybe some eggs if I can find a cheap carton… It was a far cry from the comfort foods he was used to, but being tight on money there was not much he could do.
As he rounded the corner to his building, a flicker of doubt surfaced, just for a second. Is this really going to work? Am I really… cut out for this? He pushed the thought away, gripping the bags a little tighter.
There was no turning back now. He'd made a commitment, and he wasn't about to give up just because it was hard—or expensive.
Inside his apartment, he unloaded the groceries, carefully stacking items in his small fridge and pantry.
He arranged everything with the precision of someone setting up a game plan, lining up the spinach beside the bananas, tucking the chicken on the top shelf.
Then he stood back, looking over his haul with a mix of pride and apprehension.
Guess this is it, he thought, running a hand through his hair. Step by step. Every little thing counts.
He grabbed a banana from the counter, peeling it and taking a bite.
This wasn't going to be easy, but he'd chosen this path. No more junk food, no more cutting corners. If he was serious about getting stronger, then every small choice mattered.
As he chewed thoughtfully, his gaze drifted out the window, taking in the faint glint of sunlight on the horizon.
He could feel that same steady resolve he'd had all morning settling back in.
This wasn't just about training, it was about discipline, about proving to himself that he was capable of more.
Tomorrow, he'd start fresh, putting his body and mind to the test with every meal, every workout, every step. It was daunting, but in a strange way, he felt alive, more focused than he'd ever been.
With a final bite, he set the banana peel aside and stretched his arms, feeling the faint pull of his sore muscles, a reminder of how far he'd already come.
And how much further he still had to go.
---
By the time dusk settled over Nagazora, Kenji was back in the familiar shadowed corner of the old lot.
The cool air bit into his skin, a shiver running through him as he stretched his arms and legs, warming up for what he knew would be a tough session.
Today, he was going to try something new—a different approach to controlling his power. Something more… "all-in," if he could pull it off.
He paced the cracked concrete, muttering to himself, "Alright, Kenji… if Deku can spread his power evenly through his whole body, then you can too, right? Just... focus and… disperse or whatever."
He shook out his arms, closing his eyes, trying to feel the energy within himself, that faint hum lying just beneath his skin.
Slowly, he began imagining the power seeping out in a balanced flow, reaching every limb, every muscle, every fiber. He held his breath, concentrating hard, picturing himself glowing with a steady, faint red aura, no wild bursts, just calm, even control.
When he opened his eyes, he looked down. To his surprise, faint red streaks flickered along his arms and legs, a soft glow pulsing gently beneath his skin.
His whole body hummed with a quiet energy, a steady warmth that was… stable.
For a second, he felt like he'd done it, really figured out how to balance his power without burning himself out.
"Oh-ho!" he laughed, grinning wide. "Look at that! I'm like a budget Deku! Take that, anime logic!"
But the moment he took a step forward, his knees buckled. The glow vanished, and his legs gave out, sending him crashing to the ground with a grunt.
Every muscle in his body felt like it had been wrung out like a wet towel, fatigue washing over him as he lay there, panting.
"Ouch. Alright, maybe… not quite there yet," he groaned, rolling onto his back, staring up at the early evening sky as he caught his breath.
His limbs felt heavy, as if that tiny effort had drained him completely. It was humbling. Apparently, full-body mode isn't a 'just add water' kind of thing.
Once he'd recovered, he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, let's try… something else," he muttered, glancing around the empty lot for inspiration.
There was a metal fence off to one side, its posts rusted and leaning, and a pile of old bricks stacked nearby. He eyed them thoughtfully, an idea forming in his mind.
"Maybe I should work on bursts instead of… all-over mode," he reasoned aloud. "Quick little boosts. Short and sweet. Like… pop! Done." He flexed his fingers, setting his sights on the brick pile. If he could channel just a small amount of power into his fists without it going haywire, it'd be a good first step.
He walked over, took a breath, and balled his hand into a fist, focusing all his energy into that single point. The warmth built up in his arm, a steady buzz crawling down his forearm.
He felt the power spark up, ready for release, and he threw a punch at the top brick, careful to keep the energy controlled.
His knuckles met the brick with a sharp crack, shattering it into a satisfying cloud of dust and small chunks. Leaving the other bricks untouched.
"Yes!" he shouted, shaking out his fist. "Now that was progress!"
But before he could celebrate, a loud clunk echoed through the lot as the rest of the bricks tumbled down, scattering in a chaotic mess around his feet.
Kenji stared at the bricks for a second, chuckling in exasperation. "Yeah, okay, maybe a little too much enthusiasm there." He crouched down, sweeping the pieces back into a rough pile, glancing over his shoulder as if someone might be watching.
After resetting his "training area," he moved on to testing reflexes. He looked around, searching for something he could use to simulate an attack or dodge practice. His eyes landed on an old broomstick propped against the fence, and an idea sparked.
He set the broom handle tied between two fence posts, so that when he pushed it, it would move in all directions and he'd have to dodge them while closing his eyes. With the goal of activating danger sense,
Giving the broom a strong push he took a few steps back, he got into a low stance and closed his eyes, focusing on the stick as if it were an actual opponent.
He kept trying to dodge the stick, practicing his reactions, getting hit multiple times trying to activate that faint sense of anticipation, the same sense he'd felt before that Honkai Beast attacked him.
As he got hit by the stick for the fifth time, he felt a faint prickle at the back of his neck,
like something whispering, Move! He shifted just as his head passed the stick, avoiding it with by a hair.
He opened his eyes and grinned at a successful attempt.
"Hey… there it is," he whispered, feeling a thrill of excitement. Danger sense? Maybe? It wasn't strong yet, but the fact that he could even feel it at all was something.
But as he continued, the prickle grew weaker, his timing faltering. By the seventh or eighth dodge, he was moving slower, sweat trickling down his face, exhaustion seeping into his muscles. Danger sense, takes a lot more energy to sustain than he expected.
Then, he smacked his shoulder against the broomstick, wincing as it clattered to the ground.
"Ouch! So close…" He rubbed his shoulder, frowning as he set the broom back in place. It wasn't perfect, but he'd felt that spark—however brief it was.
Sighing, he sat down on an old crate, catching his breath and wiping sweat from his forehead. The sun was setting fully now, casting long shadows across the lot, and he watched as the light faded into twilight.
Despite the mishaps, he felt a flicker of pride. Every small failure had taught him something, inching him closer to understanding this power bit by bit.
He rubbed his sore shoulder, muttering under his breath, "Guess this is what real training feels like, huh? Painful and kinda dumb half the time."
But even with the bruises, he couldn't deny the satisfaction he felt.
He'd come a long way since that night at the mall, and even if he wasn't ready to take on the world, he was taking those first steps, however clumsy they might be.
Standing up, he brushed off his pants, giving the lot one last look. He was sore, tired, and hungry, but he couldn't shake the smile creeping onto his face.
It was worth it—all the aches, all the fumbles. Every mistake was a lesson, and every lesson was another step toward the person he wanted to become.
As he turned to leave, he raised his fist, giving the darkening sky a small salute. "Alright, Nagazora… watch out. Tomorrow, we go again."
And with that, he headed back, his steps a little slower, but his spirit higher than it had been in a long time.
---
The Next Morning
The alarm blared to life in the early darkness, jolting him awake. He reached for it with a groggy hand, groaning as he rubbed his eyes.
For a moment, the lure of another hour of sleep almost pulled him back under.
"Alright, Kenji," he muttered, rolling out of bed, his voice laced with a mix of exhaustion. "Time to get moving."